Breathe in. Breathe out. Tango.

"Because I have no answers to my questions, I tango. I tango because I have to move in the midst of these uncertainties. . . . " Tango and the Political Economy of Passion, Savigliano

There is something going on, but I don't know what. Everything makes me want to cry. Happy things, sad things, irrelevant things. Maybe it's hormones. Maybe it's lack of sleep. Maybe it's both. All I know is that I'm becoming increasingly self conscious - expending extra effort to keep the world at bay while I work this, whatever it is, out.

I find comfort in tango as usual
in dancing, in listening, in watching.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Tango.
se llama tango y nada más.

I come home from practicas and milongas tired - the good tired of exertion and excitement wearing off. Not the tired-to-my-bones sort of weary that I am throughout most of the day. I am tired. Maybe that's all that this is. Tired of lab tests that give me the whats but not the whys. Tired of battling insurance companies. Tired of writing and rewriting my job description as my organization decides how much we're all worth.

Tired of reading the news. Talking about the economy. Wondering about the future.

I change shoes to change my mind.
Feel the floor under my feet.
Just walking box steps.
Forward, pivot, side, pivot, back . . .
Feeling the air move.
Whispering sound of shoes.
The familiar faces.
and familiar hugs.
The music starts.
A warm hand.
A smile.

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Tango.

Comments

Ganchos . . . again . . .

(Image courtesy of Emilie Boudet: http://www.emilieboudet.com) From the Facebook comments on my "Expressing the music or dancing for tables" post: "But adornments can become problematic when they interfere with something I'm trying to do. (I have enough trouble as it is). Some of these are basically harmless and don't really bother me that much. Like some ladies insist on doing a gancho whenever I lead them to step over my leg. I'm mostly amused by this. Some girls just like their ganchos and will seize any opportunity to do one." Predictably, I have several problems with the above behavior. First of all, they aren't "their ganchos" ! The gancho for the follower is led. It is my (nearly fanatical) opinion that it should never be an adornment or something the follower just decides to do on her own . As someone who is now attempting to learn to lead, the last thing I want to see, or heaven forbid feel, is a stiletto heel near my crotch ....

"Proper" Tango Shoes

Periodically someone, usually a man, will be bring up the topic of "proper tango shoes." If he's referring to the problem (and dangers) of trying to dance in flip-flops, or mules, or platform shoes etc., those are definitely valid, and very helpful points to be made. The likelihood of damaging your feet is very high without the proper support of high quality shoes. My problem comes with the idea that the *only* proper tango shoes have 4" stiletto heels on them and fetish-worthy embellishments. (Okay, I'm pretty keen on the embellishments myself.) "goofy ballroomy shoes are a turnoff... get rid of them..." - Alex Tango Fuego (granted this is from 2007), http://alextangofuego.blogspot.com/2007/10/to-dance-or-not-to-dancebrutally.html And, in the comments on a blog post, Anonymous said... " This is a controversial one. If a follower isn't wearing tango shoes then it's usually a good sign she's not particularly good." From Ms. Hedgeh...

Expressing music or dancing for tables?

Too much of a good thing? As sort of a follow-up to my thoughts on technique, I've run into a little snag I'd like some feedback. When I get compliments about my embrace, I'm absolutely elated. When someone compliments the way my walk feels, I feel accomplished. Compliments about my musicality - ditto. When I start getting lots of compliments about my foot work, however - I get worried. I shouldn't right? A compliment is a compliment, and should be taken graciously. It's certainly meant as a positive thing. It's a good thing if a dancer's feet are pretty - why else would everyone wear those silly, yet gorgeous, shoes? But like Richard Dreyfuss staring down his plate of mash potatoes in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, I can't help thinking it means something. Something not good. I don't mean like a backhanded compliment - but more like a fear that my priorities have unintentionally shifted. Maybe it's a community thing. Online I very often r...

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