Nine Nights…

I’m not on the A-list. I’m not a dance snob. But I bitch about dance snobs; does that make me a dance snob? Everyone’s a critic. Everyone’s a bitch. And no one’s the best.

I’ve danced the last _nine_ nights. I’ve seen people that I haven’t seen in a while, made a lot of friends, and eaten at a lot of diners. We’ve talked dance, relationships, basketball, and philosophy; and we’ve bitched a lot. We’re all different people: we dance differently, we want to dance differently, and we’re at different stages in our lives. But we all dance.

On the one hand that gives us an important bond. I could travel anywhere in this country and have a place to stay and a welcoming group of friends. But within every group there is some tension, and it ain’t just counterbalance. I know that I’m being judged. I don’t dance like DC dancers. Hell, I dance better with people who don’t have an idea of what the dance _should be_. 6-months of _dance_ makes a more open-minded follow than 12-months of Hollywood or Savoy. And I don’t think I have to dance your dance to make you have a good time.

Part of it’s my own fears, and part of it’s healthy… but I just don’t enjoy that this scene is so latently competitive. And that I’m becoming pickier, too. That I don’t like at all.

I have a clear preference for certain music, DJs, and follows. I know why I didn’t have a good time tonight, but I don’t need to point fingers. People around here do it enough to make up for me. Sometimes I feel like I’m in high school, complete with cliques and labels and all.

Fortunately most of the time I just get to dance, and enjoy it for what it is. Sometimes I’m in the spotlight, and sometimes I still get turned down. But all the while I know that I’ve gotten somewhere and will continue to progress in my own way. I just want to have fun. I don’t think this needs to be such a big deal. I need to rest…