My Tango Diaries

I'm dragging today. Another Tuesday night milonga means a late night before and early morning work day. I go through this every week. And I don't plan to change a thing. It's worth it. It's worth every yawn, worth every "could you repeat what you just said? My brain wandered off." It's worth every, "you look kinda tired today." "I was up dancing tango." (I try to stifle the glee I feel every time I tell someone at work that.) So many great things about last night's milonga. A tanguero finding *his* tango. Dancing the heck out of a milonga - I mean *flying* the milonga. Lovely. New people. Old friends. Tanguera bonding. Putting down roots in this amazing community of warm, kind, big-hearted tango dancers. What could be more welcome than a solid, weekly milonga venue with good friends, good food and live music from Glover? I can't think of thing. No se pierdan ni un compás de este tango que va cautivando rebelde y dulzón. Entre vu...

I made it through almost two of Daniela Arcuri's classes before my ankle gave out. It wasn't too bad - sore and weak - but if I continued dancing on it, especially through milonga class, I'd be unable to dance later. So I gave up 2/3 of the way through molinete class. The molinete class *alone* was worth the price of all three workshops! Daniela taught everyone (leaders and followers) how to lead molinetes three ways, as well as how to follow them. She emphasized recognizing where and when the lead is felt and how to position feet to lead it more smoothly. While this made me appreciate more how much is involved in leading the step, it also made me very grateful to be a follower. I thought my brain was going to melt from too much information. Daniela's first class of the day, a yoga inspired tango exercise class (which I had already taken twice!), still makes me feel like totally inept Daniel Larusso at the beginning of Karate Kid. I caught myself wondering if I was g...

I just passed the 8th month mark of my tango life. If I were an 8 month old baby, this is how my world would look: Some of the major milestones for the 8 month old include: * Crawling backward and forward . (Well it certainly can feel like crawling. Trying to walk while remembering to tighten my core, relax my hips, stay in line with my feet, lower my shoulders and breathe . . and of course, relax.) * Babbling and recognizing some words . (My painful attempts at castellano.) * Loving to imitate people they know. (helloooooo YouTube!) * Being very curious, and exploring everything. (Classes, workshops, books, practicas. If only I could give up sleeping and eating, I would have more time for tango! Also, see above: YouTube.) * Being frightened by new experiences, new people, and being upset when left behind. (oh yes....tango anxiety. The internal dialogue of: why can't I remember to collect! Why didn't so-and-so ask me to dance? What if no one asks me to dance? What if someone ...

( Disclaimer for the record, again - I am not a teacher - only dancer, and still a pretty new one at that. These are simply my opinions and not meant to be taken as the gospel truth about anything. What follows gets a bit ranty and occasionally preachy. Please feel free to rant/preach/bitch generally, back to me in the comments. I'm a glutton for punishment - so fire when ready.) I've emphasized how much milongas are the core of my tango addiction. They are the safe haven of my hectic world - the place I go to see my friends, enjoy the music, and dance until I practically fall down. Milongas are a sanctuary. Milongas feel safe, and comfortable, and welcoming. They feel this way because milongas are not practicas . They aren't classes. They aren't workshops. The beautiful feeling of a milonga can be shattered by dancers consistently experimenting with new moves they haven't learned well on unsuspecting, and unwilling partners. (Let me stress that I learn a ton at m...

This a picture of me from my high school yearbook. Despite what I see in the mirror, or reflected in other people's eyes, frequently this is what I see in my own mind's eye when I think of "me". Part of me is stuck there in time - awkward, anxious, and (what I thought at the time) unpopular, inept. Despite how far I've come, she still lives in me. Her fears, her troubles. Sometimes I bring her to the milonga - or rather she brings me. My confidence wanes. Instead of being a grown woman at a milonga, I'm a 17 year old at prom. I can't seem to connect to people with her in the way. She's too strong an influence at those insecure times for me to just push her out of my mind. I have to deal with her. All of that brings to mind a meme that's going around right now on Facebook and other places. What would you tell your teenage (I think 16 is the age given in the survey/meme) self? If you could go back in time and sit down with yourself at that age - wh...

"Love and dignity cannot share the same abode." -- Ovid Lately a different version of this rings in my mind. "Tango and dignity cannot share the same abode." I am only speculating, but I think the "dignity" meant above, is more like "pride". To be open to the connection, we must be open to the truth. And the truth may be that we're clumsy tonight, or we were insensitive to our partner, that we were wrong, that we were judgmental, that we hurt someone. In my last post, I emphasized the importance of letting our partner know what we need. To be honest, but never mean or ugly. To make it about the action, and not about the person. I can't keep up if we dance so quickly to this orchestra. (Rather than, 'you're motorboating me through the line of dance.' ) I'm not comfortable holding a conversation when dancing. (Rather than, 'I can't hear the music over your constant chatter.' ) May we open the embrace a little ...

So the question remained. If the situation with the previous leader could be turned around so radically - how could I affect change in my dances with other leaders that I had found troubling in one way or another? Would there really be a change? Is it my place to even try? After all, I'm not a teacher - and if I try to take on that role, I become rather a hypocrite. I looked at what had happened previously and decided, as quickly as I could, what I needed to do. (It had to be quick because neither of these leaders used the cabaceo and approached me without much warning.) Mr. Ballroomdancer-armpullerbackwrencher: My last dance with this gentleman left me running for the bus home. Instead of letting him know that his method of leading was, at first uncomfortable, then finally downright painful, I stayed silent. First, because I thought I was just following badly. Second, because I was embarrassed to be in pain. For many, probably most, people that second thing will make no sense. Wh...