Solid gold dancing, baby!

My dance instructor is going out of the country for a couple of weeks, and she decided to go out with a bang. So, for our final session before her break, we had a “superclass”. For those of you not in the know, a “superclass” is a class that’s twice as long as a normal class. So instead of dancing for an hour, we did it for two.

I think I already told you how grueling my first dance class was. However, yesterday’s superclass was a breeze. I got tired, but nowhere as tired as I did when I started up. And I think I got about 65% of the dance steps right, which is an improvement considering that I didn’t get any steps right the first time.

The best part was that the superclass was that they gave away medals at the end, and I GOT FIRST PLACE!!

Fred Astaire, eat your heart out!

It happened at the gym

I was at the gym yesterday and a girl I’ll call Sorella asked me about a some girl who used to go to the gym and whom she’d hadn’t seen around lately. Sorella figured that since she’d seen me talking to this girl a few times, I’d know whatever had happened to her. When Sorella started describing the girl, I realized she was talking about… Ivy.

So, I had to tell her the reason why Ivy wasn’t going to the gym anymore: she passed away over a year ago.

I thought I was finished telling people about Ivy’s passing. But it turns out I was wrong. It’s a sad task, of course, but the worst part is having to kill somebody in a person’s mind. Let’s see if I can explain the previous phrase.

Right now, you’re alive in the mind of everyone who knows you. After you die, all those people who don’t know you’re gone will still think they can give you a call or go out with you at any given time. So, in a way, you’re still alive. But then, as people are told of your passing, you start to die in each of those minds. It’s like you die a thousand deaths. Not that people will not remember you or miss you. It’s just that, from that point on, they’ll know that they will never be able to see you ever again. No more phone calls six times a day from you. No more no more Christmas gifts, no more going to the movies. Nothing. It’s over. You’re dead.

So now, thanks to me, Ivy is dead in Sorella’s mind as well.

Zoo visit, botched

I was on my way to the zoo to take some more night shots of the animals, but traffic prevented me from going. I mean, it was like a solid wall of cars, which stretched out for miles. Talk about a total drag.

Another crush bites the dust

Oh, it's a sad day for me. One of my most intense crushes, Neighbor Girl, is getting married.

Lemme tell you about Neighbor Girl. As her name implies, she lived with her family next door. I've known her for almost 20 years. She was a cute girl, but when she hit 14, she got HOT. She looks a lot like Kristin Kreuk: tall, slim and breathtaking.

Despite having her living so close, I never figured a way to get close to her. The fact that I am almost ten years older didn't help. A 24-year-old going out with a 34 year-old isn't so out of whack, but a girl merely 15 years of age going with a 25-year-old would've seemed kinda weird.

Anyway, a little time later I started going out with Ivy and so Neighbor Girl got sidetracked. But even so, every time I caught a glimpse of her coming out of her house I couldn't help but give out a little sigh for 'my impossible love'.

Fast-forward five years. Single once more, harmless little crushes like Neighbor Girl became a bit more relevant in my life. My brain started entertaining the notion that something could actually happen between us. Nevermind the fact that in the 20+ years of living by her, I had exchanged words with Neighbor Girl exactly once. And please ignore the fact that she had been going out with a guy for a couple of years. My heart wanted to believe it was possible.

But it wasn't.

My mom broke the bad news to me today. Neighbor Girl got preggo and is getting married ipso facto, this very Friday. I am heartbroken. It's as if a little bit of me has died.

As I said, it's a very sad day indeed.

Survived my first dance class!

Did I tell you I was gonna take some dancing classes? Well, I've always thought that dancing is one of the fundamental skills a man must master in order to be called a man. I read somewhere that in some animal species, all the males are required to do a dance in front of the ladies. And the ladies choose their mates according to their dancing abilities. Some of this is also true in the human realm.

Dancing has been a part of my life since I can remember. My parents loved to dance, and they did it so well, that watching them was always a delight. Along the years, I've been able to learn a few moves here and there, but I'm still a crappy dancer overall.

So I decided to start attending dance classes down at the gym I go to. (Did I tell you I went back to the gym? Oh well, that's a whole other post). The teacher is very young and gorgeous, which helped me take the plunge.

Well, today was my first day. I was nervous. Was I gonna be the only dude? I had visions of me making a total fool of myself. Turns out my fears were unfounded. There were a couple other dudes in there, and everyone was a beginner, so even though I sucked, I wasn't the worst dancer in the room.

We learned five basic steps for salsa, and two ways to spin. It was a bit difficult at first, but then I kinda got it. Then the steps became more and more complicated, and I had a lot of trouble keeping up, but in the end I had fun.

I must say, though, that salsa can be exhausting. I could feel my legs becoming heavier and heavier by the minute as my stamina evaporated. I looked at the teacher: she hadn't even broken a sweat. Just when I thought I was gonna drop dead, the class finished and I was released at last.

I was so utterly tired that I could barely breathe, much less move. I dragged myself out of the dance room, and drank about a liter of water in one sip.

I can't wait for the next class.