I don't fall on my ass: I improvise an impromptu drop that requires a sweeping of the posterior across the floor...

So, first Showcase since law school is officially under my belt and sliding down to the low-riding position of my sagging jeans (those jeans that seem to be defying gravity and holding on just shy of scandalous based only on some hope and a denim-related religious incantation or two). In a lot of ways, this wasn't such a huge deal, seeing as: (1) Before law school, I competed and did showcase performances a fair amount, many of these with Nate even; (2) I have continuously done tango and blues demos in all manner of odd places through and post-law school; (3) this was a fairly casual deal, really. Yes, a standing room only sold-out event with probably a hundred  and change people having come, but compared to some of the other events... not so huge. 

SHE'S A WITCH!! Looong time ago and with a dress that
cost more than my kidneys (which I can honestly admit that 
I never quite liked as much as every one else)

 But this came with thrill of publicly dancing with the illustrious Nathan Simler at his current utterly astounding level of awesome. He was obviously talented when I finally started with him as my teacher, but he has had two professional partners, hundreds of competitions and training hours into those competitions, and an incalculable amount of coaching and training since we started this whole student-teacher imbroglio. Granted he had started this whole transformation at the tail end of my pre-law school days of yore, but still... three years is three years and as unfathomable as it has been he can and does actually get even better all the time! I'd say it's unfair, but then again considering how often I actually manage to successfully practice beyond the occasional kitchen technique session in my underwear while breakfast is cooking... And let's not forget the complete lack of ballroom on my part for three years. Ok, we can forget that. I'd prefer to forget that!

how many years of reading this case book
instead of going to a lesson???

 Anyways, he is unquestionably one of the most supportive leads and makes his follows look good, but you reach a certain level of talent and even your partner dancing at twice his/her best looks a bit shoddy when directly contrasted against your exponential upping of sheer ability. In short, I have no delusions that it would ever be unclear which of us was the professional and which the amateur... but there are different levels of how emphatically amateur, some which are a bit bruising for the ego to handle. And, of course, my tango performances are all completely unchoreographed. It was also a definite rush job, the performance, so there was a mix of high chances of looking comparatively pathetic, no particular sense of the choreography (I still don't know what the choreography should have been at certain points), and the usual perils of inevitable wardrobe malfunction - I'm still known for my mooning of the basketball audience at a prior performance involving a very short and unruly skirt that became a belt. Oh, and did I mention there was no dress rehearsal and the performance was the first time we'd danced in the space? But we did it! Twice! Definitely not the same way twice, but twice. 

Some things that I noted/recalled: 


1. Holy crap those two minutes are like accounts of crack cocaine use: two minutes of sheer unadulturated rush and then it's suddenly over except for the beating heart and an uncontrollable jones for the next hit. 

(and an amputee possibly!)

2. I wear contacts when I dance to avoid having a completely vacant face and/or wearing glasses (focusing one's eyes has an amazing effect on audience engagement). I don't wear contacts very often otherwise. When I do wear them, I appear shocked and stunned every time I look in the mirror. My eyes are so ... OPEN and HUGE. Granted, you can barely see them from the dance floor, but passing a mirror, I am pretty sure I look like a caricature of an anime character without my glasses. 


3. So even with the extra thrump of stage makeup, it still takes me about ten minutes to thrown it all on and maybe took another five to gel my hair into submission. Given the whole "women take an eternity to get dressed up" thing, I am starting to feel like I'm not a true woman. 


4. That said, apparently I must ordinarily look like a troll and/or rather quickly "clean up nice" since almost every one first would look at me without recognizing me, then realize who I was and then exclaim almost skeptically *you look gorgeous*! Got the same reaction when I was made up all purdy-like for Molly's wedding last year. Yes, really, the birds in my hair do take away from my eyes sometimes, I know... 


5. Two night performances are always interesting. The first night has the dual positive and negative of raw adrenaline. The energy is intoxicating and the connection can be soooo tight, but it also can make the dancing slightly tense and/or lead to mistakes. The second night bears the burden and benefit of being more relaxed, which can mean a looser and more genuine performance, or a lackluster one that's prone to mistakes born of sloppiness... 


...or just stepping on your foot wrong and ending up on the floor. Which I did in my second night performance - the sold out one, of course. I caught myself quite well I think and while I've no doubt that 50% of the audience understood it was borne of a fall, at least maybe the other 50% were fooled enough by the confident way that I twisted around and met the floor in a full pose with a smile into think it was actually an intentional drop much in line with the other moves we were planning to do. Although it was baffling and befuddling, I actually still think the second night was my better performance. 


6. Oh the joy of trying to capture dancing in photograph. And yes, I'm reverting to my traditional posture of making fun of all the "interesting" photos of myself that my mother ever so graciously capture for me! 

Yeah, Nate, um that's a really neat karate move... and uh your
nails are really pretty with that french tip... yeah...

Look up in the audience, it's a bird... it's a plane...
Nate I don't know what you're talking about, but i don't get it!

Ok, seriously, he who smelt it dealt it!

Wow, that um "gluten free brownie" we ate from the uh concession table? Duuuuude what was in that?

And no, while self-tanner may have a reputation for turning one orange, the weird Triaminic tint is actually a trick of the lighting. The photos that don't totally embarrass me are being de-saturated per the first photo up there. I swear I didn't touch a bottle this time and my skin remains inordinately white, as evidenced by me a few hours beforehand:

Yes, some days you go to the office wearing a suit and some days you go dressed as Rosie the Riveter. It's just one of those things. And/or, no way in hell am I tackling the hair glue and bobby pin mess two days in a row. My hair may remain hidden under scarf for the next few years, honestly. 


Yeah, I mostly just included that to give your eyes a little watery cool down after all those embers of orange. 


But I digress. Back to point #1, what a thrill, even more so when it all goes horribly or fantastically wrong, somehow.