Six Degrees

This weekend I saw six very important men in my life. Three of them I love unconditionally, always. Two I loved at one point or another. But because of the way things go for us “sensitive folk” and because people must change, or maybe - more so - I changed, it was bittersweet. The last I fell in love with years ago and for whatever reason, this one resonated. Seeing him as a complete stranger was rather strange. I didn’t expect to feel relieved by my remembering that feeling. I was.

Sol Y Sombra

I lucked out last night. Of course this is a conclusion I'm making after the fact. I did my first performance of the year with the Sol Y Sombra Dance Company in Huntington Village. What made this experience special was being billed (my name) on the program this time. I suppose dancing in 4 numbers instead of the usual 2 had a little something to do with it. I'm not quite sure what to say. My nerves were relentless. We had to be there at 4pm for sound check. That's 4 hours of pacing, applying makeup, pacing, prepping, putting on my poker face, and pacing some more. It was painful. The rain never came, which would have meant cancelling the show. I guess, in some way, Mother Nature knew what I needed. She brought in the sun right when shade would soon follow. I felt ill. Then of course I actually fell. It was during rehearsal for sevillanas - an old traditional flamenco dance from Sevilla that is typically done with a partner & castanets. All the musicians asked me if I was OK. Try "yes, but my ego just jumped over a cliff." Anyway, the worst had passed & it could only get.. sunnier. By curtain time, I had forgotten all about fear & sunnier arrived. Aside from the occassional misteps & flowers flying out of my hair, I made it through unscathed. My family showered me with compliments afterwards. They took it a step further by saying some of their friends, whom I've never met, thought I was the best one. Ego boost? Check! Even if they were biased, it's what I needed. The best part was the salsa piece we did with a little flamenco peppered throughout. I had a chance to showcase everything I ever learned from the salsa queen herself, my mom, since I was like 3 years old.

The whole day I had made up my mind to give up dancing. The stress wasn't worth it. Truth is I really wasn't "the best one," far from it. But I felt alive. And I just can't say no to alive.

Review: Fiona & Damien

Last night I went to go see two very different performances. First, Damien Rice. A straightforward, honest, bare-your-soul type of show. There was a lot of electricity, so he rocked out, sang a lullaby, then rocked out again. An amazing guest vocalist, Lisa, who gave Fiona a run for her money in the sultry & deep tones department, a cellist, a kick ass drummer, and the bassist stood on stage. No backdrop, no cool effects, no sharp threads. I was smitten. Then came my dear Fiona. She's so lost. I kept waiting for paramedics to take her away in a straight-jacket. Then I thought a group of priests would storm in from the Vatican to perform a very special exorcism. She was breathtaking at times. There were moments of pure brilliance. But something happened once she crossed that very strange line. It got awkward. The edge of insanity is usually occupied by geniuses like Bjork or Iggy Pop, but a Ms. Apple? Hmmm... All in all I had a great time. I still love her, found a new love in Damien, and became inspired. That's a damn fine time if I do say so myself.

A Pocket Watch -

Since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted one. I thought enclosing a watch into a little round metal compartment meant controlling time. The idea that time could be kept hidden appealed to me. That it was tangible and vulnerable. That maybe it could be stopped! There was also all this history, or so I imagined. Like maybe a pocket watch belonged to someone very special, someone from centuries ago. I figured the mechanical ones (of course) would never tick endlessly and haunt me when I was typing, rubbing my chin, riding a bike, painting my nails, or any other ordinary activity that might become a reminder of time running out. It would simply sit in my pocket until I was ready. Time waiting on me for a change. Clearly, I didn’t know what pocket watches really were… that they were even more magical.

My father’s side of the family is planning this huge surprise party for my grandfather. He will be 80. Someone in our pretend 10-person committee (only 5 of us are doing all the work) suggested the gift be a wrist watch. I pulled the “head of the committee,” my uncle Nacho, to one side and made my case for the pocket watch. Majority has ruled for it. Finally, I’ll get to see an heirloom in the making for someone who’s been around a long, long time. Ah, yes, someone very special.

Noche Flamenco

Flamenco embodies everything that I am. If you really want to know me, watch a gypsy glide and with one swift move take your breath away. Ok, so maybe I don't have that kind of presence since I am a bit clumsy and bubbly, but I'm tellin' ya I can migrate (figuratively speaking) like there's no tomorrow.

On a more serene note, I sat in Central Park on this very still night and watched "Noche Flamenco" by a small company of musicians and dancers from Spain. I'm completely rejunivated. Tomorrow when I stand with the other girls in class, I'm going to dance with some... class.

IndepenDANCE

My weekend was filled with so much dancing I thought my feet would grow some... feet & walk away refusing to carry the rest of me, so I'd simply collapse. It was either a death wish or some insane obsession to move freely. I danced Thursday evening at my cousin's salsa lesson. I persuaded him to meet friends at a lounge where I danced some more in my pumps and business suit. I danced on Saturday for flamenco class and again at a garden party under the Brooklyn stars. I danced on Monday for salsa and flamenco rehearsal. Later that night I went out again for some goth/new wave/punk/alternative dancing. I can't stop dancing even if today my feet have left the building.