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Oct. 24th, 2013 10:32 pm(x-posted from Facebook)
The part attached to the link:
Hi! So, every year there is a fall concert hosted by the Boston branch of the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society, (known also as the awesome group I dance with every Monday night) full of incredible musicians playing Scottish tunes and delightful people dancing. This year, um, one of those people dancing is me!
I am still kinda boggling that I even got asked to be on the demo team, since that's where the _really good_ dancers are, but apparently I am good enough, and I am working my butt off with the rest of the team and we are gonna look absolutely wonderful.
If you're not doing something else this weekend, you should totally come to one of our performances, and enjoy the set. It will be a fine time!
***
The part not attached to links:
And the part I'm only gonna post to my wall, not actually connected to the event page....
This is my first time performing* onstage in damn close to a decade. It's the first time I've rehearsed for weeks on end and learned a part and worked with the directors and fellow cast to make something the best it can be. It is a true fact, albeit one not advertised that I thrive on the spotlight. My parents tease my sister for "the Aly show", never think I did not strive just as hard to Perform.
Here's the thing: I am a damn good dancer. I can be coy all I want about "however is it I got chosen", but when forced to speak blunt, I know just how sharp and well I possess this talent**. Not surprising, when you consider I've been doing Scottish damn near weekly for damn near six years now.
And true always that the ways I dance are for me, solely and entirely. Oh yes, it appears I dance with people much of the time, but my movements within the set are always to my benefit. It takes much to calm me down, to restrain my wings when I can fly across the dance floor. Being asked to rise up, to perform, to show others the joy and delight and beauty that can come from this form of dance...that is enough.
So I dance for myself, because I'm the only one who can witness in my mind the way the world lights up when it all comes together just so. But I have always yearned to perform, to be good enough to impress upon the rest of the world, and that's not just for me anymore. That's putting it out there, asking the rest of the world to judge me for a thing I decided a long time ago wasn't something I was willing to be judged about.
And there is a sadness, locked deep and quiet in the back of my mind (in the same place where my desire for flowers, real ones, exists) at the potential that no one who cares for me will witness this performance. This thing I have warped myself for, ever slight, to make myself part of something more and better than solely me. It is a terrible truth of adulthood that when parents are so far away, they are no longer obliged or entangled such that they must come see you perform.
There will be people who know me, and people who don't, who will share in the triumph and beauty and send congratulations and appreciations for this thing we have all worked so hard to create. There is no one, not a one of you, who HAS to be there for me, especially not when weekends are busy and theatre is expensive. If nothing else, I will be there for myself.
But...(in that quiet shy voice of someone unused to the idea of wanting)...I would like it if you came to watch. I would like it quite a lot.
Thanks for listening to me ramble about this thing which is important and powerful to me.
~Sor
MOOP!
*In a serious way, ceidlighs and amatuer nights and last minute presentations of Highland at Pinewoods don't count.
**And one of the parts of being as good as I am is that I _know_ how far I have to go. There is a path, and I will walk it someday. I fully expect*** that I will be a licensed and hired teacher for the RSCDS, before my thirtieth birthday. Hard work and practice and improving my footwork and learning how to smile and nod and pretend the ways they want so that this hobby I love can have someone queer like me to protect it.
***Expect is often a terrible word, for the two very different meanings it can hold. Here I use both. I expect(predict) that I will achieve this goal. And I expect(obligate) myself to put in the work to get there.
The part attached to the link:
Hi! So, every year there is a fall concert hosted by the Boston branch of the Royal Scottish Country Dance Society, (known also as the awesome group I dance with every Monday night) full of incredible musicians playing Scottish tunes and delightful people dancing. This year, um, one of those people dancing is me!
I am still kinda boggling that I even got asked to be on the demo team, since that's where the _really good_ dancers are, but apparently I am good enough, and I am working my butt off with the rest of the team and we are gonna look absolutely wonderful.
If you're not doing something else this weekend, you should totally come to one of our performances, and enjoy the set. It will be a fine time!
***
The part not attached to links:
And the part I'm only gonna post to my wall, not actually connected to the event page....
This is my first time performing* onstage in damn close to a decade. It's the first time I've rehearsed for weeks on end and learned a part and worked with the directors and fellow cast to make something the best it can be. It is a true fact, albeit one not advertised that I thrive on the spotlight. My parents tease my sister for "the Aly show", never think I did not strive just as hard to Perform.
Here's the thing: I am a damn good dancer. I can be coy all I want about "however is it I got chosen", but when forced to speak blunt, I know just how sharp and well I possess this talent**. Not surprising, when you consider I've been doing Scottish damn near weekly for damn near six years now.
And true always that the ways I dance are for me, solely and entirely. Oh yes, it appears I dance with people much of the time, but my movements within the set are always to my benefit. It takes much to calm me down, to restrain my wings when I can fly across the dance floor. Being asked to rise up, to perform, to show others the joy and delight and beauty that can come from this form of dance...that is enough.
So I dance for myself, because I'm the only one who can witness in my mind the way the world lights up when it all comes together just so. But I have always yearned to perform, to be good enough to impress upon the rest of the world, and that's not just for me anymore. That's putting it out there, asking the rest of the world to judge me for a thing I decided a long time ago wasn't something I was willing to be judged about.
And there is a sadness, locked deep and quiet in the back of my mind (in the same place where my desire for flowers, real ones, exists) at the potential that no one who cares for me will witness this performance. This thing I have warped myself for, ever slight, to make myself part of something more and better than solely me. It is a terrible truth of adulthood that when parents are so far away, they are no longer obliged or entangled such that they must come see you perform.
There will be people who know me, and people who don't, who will share in the triumph and beauty and send congratulations and appreciations for this thing we have all worked so hard to create. There is no one, not a one of you, who HAS to be there for me, especially not when weekends are busy and theatre is expensive. If nothing else, I will be there for myself.
But...(in that quiet shy voice of someone unused to the idea of wanting)...I would like it if you came to watch. I would like it quite a lot.
Thanks for listening to me ramble about this thing which is important and powerful to me.
~Sor
MOOP!
*In a serious way, ceidlighs and amatuer nights and last minute presentations of Highland at Pinewoods don't count.
**And one of the parts of being as good as I am is that I _know_ how far I have to go. There is a path, and I will walk it someday. I fully expect*** that I will be a licensed and hired teacher for the RSCDS, before my thirtieth birthday. Hard work and practice and improving my footwork and learning how to smile and nod and pretend the ways they want so that this hobby I love can have someone queer like me to protect it.
***Expect is often a terrible word, for the two very different meanings it can hold. Here I use both. I expect(predict) that I will achieve this goal. And I expect(obligate) myself to put in the work to get there.