When I woke up yesterday morning, I had absolutely no idea that eight hours later I would be the proud owner/proprietor/sommelier of a real-life blog. You can thank (or blame) my good friend and colleague Sarah E., who always seems to know what I'm ready to tackle, at least six months before I do.
I am a Seattle-based writer and licensed barber who completed her Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at the University of Washington in 2009. Cutting hair is the best day-job in the world, but my graduate school internship as an Assistant Editor at City Arts magazine unleashed my long-dormant talents as a crackerjack interviewer and reporter -- I would love to work in print media again, or in a similar capacity involving communication skills and the arts.
My blog already has a picture, I know -- I was so excited yesterday, setting things up, I wanted to make sure I could post photos easily! This is me and my good friend Raven, taking a break between dances at Century Ballroom's Salsa Night.
Salsa dancing is relatively new for me, I just started taking lessons this past spring. It was the first time I'd taken an official dance class in ... oh, let's say awhile. I was the picture of optimism when my friends encouraged me to join them in taking salsa classes -- I had danced ballet, tap, jazz and modern in my youth, grown up watching"Flashdance" and "Fame,"memorized the"Thriller" dance moves and Madonna's choreography in her "Lucky Star" video. So what if the past fifteen years were a blur of sloth and drink, I still remembered myself at age eleven, or twelve, running a long line of cartwheels and aerials across a suburban lawn -- that's the body I thought would show up for salsa class, a couple months ago.
That's not what happened. Not even a little. I stood, on a hardwood floor in a large group of people, and wondered if, seriously, a neurological dysfunction had occurred, because I did not seem to be able to keep time to a salsa beat.
It's weird -- after what seemed like an interminable learning curve, I finally started getting better at salsa dancing -- nailing the basics, feeling the grooves. There are a few core moves to learn, then you depend on your partner for the rest. Someone, somewhere, snaps their fingers and you are a salsa dancer, no going back. You go out on the floor when someone asks you. You do salsa basic, of course, then a break-back, and twirl around with your arms raised and your skirts floating high, and laugh and say "Dios Mio! before sitting down and drinking some water.
See you on the dance floor,