We Can All Dance Together (Blog #177)

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Tonight I went to a birthday party for my friend Al. For the last couple months, Al and our friend Donna have been taking dance lessons and preparing a surprise routine for the party. Honestly, they’ve worked their butts off. Anyway, the party tonight was in Fort Smith at the old Shipley Baking Company. Unfortunately, it no longer smells like fresh bread, but it’s an awesome venue. I kept wishing I still hosted swing dances, as it would have been a great option for Southern Fried Swing, the mostly annual Lindy Hop convention I use to organize.

As Dad says, such is life.

Here’s a picture of the outside of the venue. The neon sign says, “Bakery,” which you can sort of make out, but sort of not because apparently my phone camera was drunk tonight. Anyway, the former bakery is open-air, which worked out super, since it’s fall. Granted, it’s Arkansas, which means it was humid. But there were fans strong enough to blow the wig off a drag queen, so the only people breaking a sweat were those of us on the dance floor. Not that I went around checking everyone’s armpits, I’m just guessing.

As if the place itself weren’t cool enough, Al served up a fantastic taco bar and free drinks. Talk about being in heaven. I was one happy camper. Funny enough, most the week I’ve been fretting, thinking that I needed to find a friend or date to go with me. I mean, I sort of tried, but finally said, “Fuck it. I’m used to doing things alone.” But trying to find a companion did make me think about my circle of friends. I’d like to tread lightly here because I think of myself as having wonderful friends, wonderful one-on-one friends. However, I don’t think of myself as having a group of friends, a “tribe” if you will. I used to have the dance studio, but it’s different leading a group and being part of one. Plus, I feel like I could do better about having friends in the gay community. I only feel mildly sorry for myself about this whole matter, but–going forward–it’s something I’d like to work on.

You know, we all have fantasies, but I imagine if I ever did find a group of homos (that’s short for homosexuals, Mom) to hang with, maybe we’ll be like the Sharks or Jets from West Side Story. We wouldn’t have to get in fights, mind you, but we could at least roll up our sleeves, do a little singing, surely a little choreographed dancing. Maybe–just maybe–we could have t-shirts that said, “We put the GAY in gang.”

Something like that–I’m still thinking it over.

The reward is really in the thing itself and how you grow in the process.

Anyway, the party tonight was a smash. When Al and Donna performed their dance, it was tough for me to get outside of teacher mode. I kept running the routine in my head. Next up is one basic, then a girl’s turn, then a guy’s turn. You know how you want your friends to succeed. Well, they did–they nailed it. Later Al and I talked about all the hard work they put in–all the time and effort for two minutes on the dance floor. As I think about it now, I guess it’s like everything I’m putting into this blog. I think about it “paying off” one day, but the reward is really in the thing itself–the learning, the practicing, and how you grow in the process.

The universe is a funny place. After all my fretting about having someone to be with and talk to tonight, Al introduced me to a group of his friends from Kansas City, a literal bunch of stellar men. Al said, “You should get to know them.” Well, the next thing I knew, we were all standing around eating tacos, talking, being–you know–friendly. When the party was over, we went back to Al’s house, chilled out. Uh, a few of us may have danced to the Dream Girls soundtrack. (It all happened so fast.) Now that I think about it, I guess it was all very Sharks and Jets–minus the rolled up sleeves.

I can’t tell you the number of insecurities that come out whenever I’m in a new setting, especially if there’s dancing. Part of me is always comparing, sizing everyone up, wondering what other people are thinking. I usually think anyone who is attractive, wealthy, or talented has EVERYTHING figured out. (I realize this isn’t logical.) Anyway, maybe you’re like this in some way. If so, you know–it’s exhausting. I’m glad to say it’s a lot better for me than it used to be. Just since starting this blog, I’m more comfortable in my own skin than I ever have been. Like learning to dance, progress happens bit by bit.

At the venue tonight there was a sign, I’m assuming leftover from the days of sourdough and rye. It said, “Waste is our biggest competitor.” This could be taken a number of ways, but my mind went to all the time and effort I waste comparing myself to other people, worrying about shit that almost never happens, and generally being afraid of my own shadow. Obviously, all that takes a lot–a lot–of energy, energy I could be using to connect with others, imagine all the good things that could happen, and dance with rather than run from my shadow.

I told my mom tonight that I’m almost always happy to write this blog late at night when the rest of the world is quiet and it’s just me and the clicking of the keyboard. Sure, I’m tired plenty of nights, but I consider this a sacred, mysterious time worthy of being tired for. But tonight in the company of both new and old friends as I was invited to crash on a couch and wake up to a pancake breakfast, I almost convinced myself I could pull double blog duty tomorrow. Still, now I’m at home, it’s five-thirty in the morning, and I’m keeping the promise I made to myself–I won’t fall asleep until this is done. So rather than thinking about what I may be missing out on, I choose to be grateful for what’s happened, is happening, and could happen. Honestly, I’m coming to think of all of life as sacred and mysterious, a place where friendly faces can show up out of nowhere and make you feel welcome, a place where outdated beliefs can fall away and we can all dance together like something you might see in a movie.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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You can be more discriminating.

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The Path of Totality (Blog #144)

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Last night I stayed in Kansas City with my friend Deb and her boyfriend, David, and this morning Deb’s sister, Aimee, joined us for sugar, carbs, coffee, and–after all that–other celestial wonders. If you haven’t heard already, there was a total eclipse today. I’ve been a little nervous this week that I’d “miss it,” but when I woke up this morning to cinnamon rolls, I thought, Screw the eclipse. This is better. Fortunately, I didn’t have to choose one or the other. And I have to admit–the eclipse was amazing. As one t-shirt said, it was “totality awesome.”

Feel free to roll your eyes.

In anticipation of traffic, we hit the road about nine, after David checked his kids out of school for a “once in a lifetime” event.” Honestly, if you held a gun to my head (please don’t), I couldn’t tell you exactly where we went. I just know it was about an hour away and was in the path of totality, meaning the sun would be completely covered up by the moon. As a bonus, the moon as ALSO completely covered up by clouds.

I mean, that’s basically what happened. As soon as we got to the farm we were going to (David said it belonged to like a family member of a friend of a family member), it started raining. A lot. So Deb and Aimee and I played Uno with the kids (in the car) while David took a work call. I normally don’t like card games, but I’ll say this–they’re more fun when you win and children cry.

I’m kidding. No one cried.

Eventually, it stopped raining, and the eclipse began. We still had a lot of clouds, but we were able to see most of the first half of it. Part of me actually thought having the clouds was exciting. It was like playing hide-and-seek. Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Another part of me was disappointed that we didn’t see the entire thing. This is a big deal, I thought, doesn’t the weather get that? But what do you do? You can’t make the clouds go away, shoo them off to another state the same way you’d encourage a fly to leave your cheeseburger. Still, even with the clouds completely covering the moon completely covering the sun, it was pretty amazing at the point of total eclipse. Except for the horizon, the sky was dark. The air got colder. The birds stopped chirping.

I ate Cool Ranch Doritos.

Like everyone else, Aimee and I took pictures. Then when the sun started to shine again, people clapped. Honestly, it was a little half-hearted, but I’m going to blame that on the clouds. But it still felt rather primal, this celebration of the idea that even when there are dark times, the light eventually breaks through.

The traffic showed up on the way home. David took a lot of back roads, but I have never seen so many cars amongst the cornfields. It was like Field of Dreams. (If you build a total solar eclipse, they will come.) As David drove, it started raining again, and puddles of water cropped up along the highways. At one point, traffic came to a standstill because two lanes of traffic were trying to squeeze into one lane of traffic at the point where there was a small creek of water running across the road. Well, apparently David’s a badass who doesn’t mind driving on the shoulder. The next thing I knew, he was splashing through the water in the unoccupied lane, then off we went, a string of other cars behind us who just needed permission go against the grain.

This evening I’ve watched as photos and videos of the eclipse have flooded Facebook the way the rain in Kansas City is, even now, flooding the streets. Some of my friends have commented, “I wish I’d had a pair of glasses,” the same way I’ve thought, I wish I’d been somewhere with fewer clouds. I guess we all do that, tell ourselves our day would’ve been better IF, our lives would BE BETTER IF. And yet that’s something–and I personally hate to admit this in writing–that we can’t know for sure. We just can’t. No one has a crystal ball.

And no–a disco ball will not do.

What I do know is that I laughed a lot today. I haven’t seen Deb and Aimee in over five years, and both of them are hilarious. Maybe I didn’t see those crazy shadows on the ground during the total eclipse climax (or whatever it’s called), but I did reconnect with my friends over cinnamon rolls and Uno, and–let’s face it–that’s not something that happens every day. The writer Elizabeth Gilbert says, “The action is here.” I take that to mean that we can IF and WISH all day long, but that’s only half-living, something akin to the path of “partiality.” Of course, real life isn’t something you wish and dream about–it’s something that’s right in front of you. What’s more, it’s whole and complete just the way it is. So perhaps fully accepting and living what’s right in front of you could also be called the path of totality.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Growth and getting far in life have nothing to do with where you’re physically standing.

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