Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
Thank you thank you thank you!!!
I knew you would come through. I just knew it!
How did you know that I really wanted this, instead of the way-cool-folding bicycle? Never mind. You know everything. I guess this means that I was a good boy last year.
I love you.
color blind
The Tango is many things. Some are infuriating. Some are blissful. For me, it has always been a refuge, but probably not in the way that you might think.
A child of mixed heritage, born into an unforgiving culture, I did not know, in the beginning, that I was different. Sometimes I felt exotic, perhaps, in the words and actions of people around me. Things took a strange turn, when my family came to this country. Suddenly, not only was I different, I was punished for it.
Eventually, I constructed an acceptable identity. I still remember a strange moment in high school. My best friend (White) and I (Asian) liked two girls, who belonged to a Mexican gang. During recess, my friend and I wanted to talk to the girls, who were surrounded by their male friends, all of whom, of course, were in the gang. When the men saw us walking toward their girls, they did the (to me) unthinkable: they gave us space, privacy, to talk.
The thing is, I have always just thought of myself as simply me. That my face conveys a cultural identity is very confusing. Often, when I see myself in a mirror, I would be surprised. "Holy cow! I am Asian."
A long, round-about way to arrive at this: for me, the Tango has been color blind, every time, and everywhere. Whatever else that happens, the heartache, the rejections, the bliss, the connections: pure and unadulterated by color.
A child of mixed heritage, born into an unforgiving culture, I did not know, in the beginning, that I was different. Sometimes I felt exotic, perhaps, in the words and actions of people around me. Things took a strange turn, when my family came to this country. Suddenly, not only was I different, I was punished for it.
Eventually, I constructed an acceptable identity. I still remember a strange moment in high school. My best friend (White) and I (Asian) liked two girls, who belonged to a Mexican gang. During recess, my friend and I wanted to talk to the girls, who were surrounded by their male friends, all of whom, of course, were in the gang. When the men saw us walking toward their girls, they did the (to me) unthinkable: they gave us space, privacy, to talk.
The thing is, I have always just thought of myself as simply me. That my face conveys a cultural identity is very confusing. Often, when I see myself in a mirror, I would be surprised. "Holy cow! I am Asian."
A long, round-about way to arrive at this: for me, the Tango has been color blind, every time, and everywhere. Whatever else that happens, the heartache, the rejections, the bliss, the connections: pure and unadulterated by color.
relaxing
A couple of years ago, as I immersed myself into the Tango, a colleague threw herself into West Coast Swing. I showed her mine, and she, hers. I really like this song, Sometimes, by B-TRIBE. Reminds me of Sofa Rockers (Richard Dorfmeister Remix), by the Sofa Surfers.
I feel extremely cool.
oh baby baby
me: "i danced by myself for a couple of hours today. i am a fabulous leader."
lomyl: "and a follower... especially when you are leading."
me: "i was nuanced, subtle, and very manly. not too bossy."
lomyl: "so the seduction was a success?"
me: "i sighed into my ear. and then i tried to nibble it, but my teeth aren't long enough."
lomyl: "and then you spun really fast, really macho?"
me: "i liked that, very much."
lomyl: "what, seducing yourself?"
me: "spinning very fast."
lomyl: "so that your spinning ears can catch the sweet sighing words?"
me: "oh baby, i love myself. i am so vunderful, so manly."
lomyl: "and a follower... especially when you are leading."
me: "i was nuanced, subtle, and very manly. not too bossy."
lomyl: "so the seduction was a success?"
me: "i sighed into my ear. and then i tried to nibble it, but my teeth aren't long enough."
lomyl: "and then you spun really fast, really macho?"
me: "i liked that, very much."
lomyl: "what, seducing yourself?"
me: "spinning very fast."
lomyl: "so that your spinning ears can catch the sweet sighing words?"
me: "oh baby, i love myself. i am so vunderful, so manly."
Una Vez
| Mori en los rayos del sol | I died on the rays of the sun |
| la niebla de un dia sin luz | on the fog of a day without light |
| y luego en la tarde serena | and then in the quiet afternoon |
| [ungieron] mi angustia y mi pena. | my angst and my sadness flew in. |
| Soñaba aquella tarde con tus besos | I dreamed with your kiss that afternoon |
| sentiame feliz con tu regreso; | I felt happiness with your return, |
| y al verte de nuevo ante mi, | and when I saw you again in front of me |
| cantaba en mis sueños asi. | my dreams sang this way... |
| Una vez, solo te vi una vez | Only once, I only saw you once |
| y te ame... solo basto una vez. | And I loved you, once was enough |
| Hoy no se si me falta tu cariño | And today, I don't know if I am missing your love |
| ay, de mi, estoy solo sin ti | Oh, poor me, I'm so lonely without you. |
| solo tu me sabes comprender | Only you can understand me |
| siempre tu, para poder vencer | Always you, to be able to win |
| nunca mas yo te lo juro vida mia | never again I swear you, my life |
| nunca mas podre vivir sin ti. | never again, I will be able to live without you. |
[To my extraordinary friend, thank you for the translation!]
hit from my blind side
Dear Diary,
I worked from home today, afraid of the traffic in DC (and of the possible snow). Yes, I am a total wuss. Wait until you hear my confession.
I took a break from a work-related-crazy-assed-head-banging-problem, and re-imported a CD by Orquesta Tipica Victor. Anyway, by accident, I played Una Vez. I found myself moving in the living room, tears streaming. I know I know, this seems to be happening quite a bit recently. But, this time, LOOK, I am by my fucking self, right? I have no business crying like a wuss-ass-shit-brain for the entire 3.3 minutes of this song. And then you know what I did? I fucking played it over and over again, like an idiotic masochist (if you knew how many times I played it...), so that I can burst into tears again and again. Fuck me. (OK, I am a leetel vulgeur today.)
Now I have to know the words. I mean, what if I am moved by some stupid-assed words, some dude singing about the hot dog that was too cold and he wants his money back.
So I go looking for the lyrics on the net. You think I could find it? No! No! No! So I get desperate, because, look, if I am going to be a wuss-ass, I want to be appropriately-wussied.
I fired a flare. My friends are coming to my rescue...
...
This is a very dangerous song for me. Very very dangerous.
I worked from home today, afraid of the traffic in DC (and of the possible snow). Yes, I am a total wuss. Wait until you hear my confession.
I took a break from a work-related-crazy-assed-head-banging-problem, and re-imported a CD by Orquesta Tipica Victor. Anyway, by accident, I played Una Vez. I found myself moving in the living room, tears streaming. I know I know, this seems to be happening quite a bit recently. But, this time, LOOK, I am by my fucking self, right? I have no business crying like a wuss-ass-shit-brain for the entire 3.3 minutes of this song. And then you know what I did? I fucking played it over and over again, like an idiotic masochist (if you knew how many times I played it...), so that I can burst into tears again and again. Fuck me. (OK, I am a leetel vulgeur today.)
Now I have to know the words. I mean, what if I am moved by some stupid-assed words, some dude singing about the hot dog that was too cold and he wants his money back.
So I go looking for the lyrics on the net. You think I could find it? No! No! No! So I get desperate, because, look, if I am going to be a wuss-ass, I want to be appropriately-wussied.
I fired a flare. My friends are coming to my rescue...
...
This is a very dangerous song for me. Very very dangerous.
i will be your wing man
(sighing) "three of them sitting together."
"yeah. i know."
"awkward... i want to dance with one of them..."
"which one?"
"at the end."
"oh. ok. i was going to ask the other one."
"perfect! so, we can go together."
"yup. i will be your wing man."
"yeah. i know."
"awkward... i want to dance with one of them..."
"which one?"
"at the end."
"oh. ok. i was going to ask the other one."
"perfect! so, we can go together."
"yup. i will be your wing man."
manly
me: "how did you like that, eh?"
follower: "?"
me: "did you notice the manly energy in that turn?"
follower: "why yes i did."
me: "i have been experimenting with being more *MANLY*. you know, something different from my usual wimpy self."
follower: "uh huh."
me: "anyway, one time, i apologized to a follower, after a lively vals, that i didn't know what had gotten into me, that i was out-of-control. and she said, 'oh no! i liked it. you should be out-of-control more often!' so i am just saying that i guess i am learning to be *MACHO*."
follower: "yeah. i agree. i liked it too."
me: "hmmm... i don't understand this. i mean, YOU LIKE IT THAT I AM OUT OF CONTROL?"
follower: "well... i like a variety, you know, appropriate to the music."
me: "OK. let me try this..."
(in the middle of the song, a quiet passage, I meowed. and, just as I moved macho-like, I growled.)
follower: "?"
me: "did you notice the manly energy in that turn?"
follower: "why yes i did."
me: "i have been experimenting with being more *MANLY*. you know, something different from my usual wimpy self."
follower: "uh huh."
me: "anyway, one time, i apologized to a follower, after a lively vals, that i didn't know what had gotten into me, that i was out-of-control. and she said, 'oh no! i liked it. you should be out-of-control more often!' so i am just saying that i guess i am learning to be *MACHO*."
follower: "yeah. i agree. i liked it too."
me: "hmmm... i don't understand this. i mean, YOU LIKE IT THAT I AM OUT OF CONTROL?"
follower: "well... i like a variety, you know, appropriate to the music."
me: "OK. let me try this..."
(in the middle of the song, a quiet passage, I meowed. and, just as I moved macho-like, I growled.)
simple night
Dear Diary,
I do what I must, while Lomyl is away, to remain sane. Conflicted emotions swirled in me at the milonga...
Someone tried throughout the night to make eye contact with me. Now, in the dark, without my glasses, I can't see anything past ten feet. But, I was pretty sure that she was sending a message. I did not acknowledge the invitation. I want to be OK with this. But, right now, I am still struggling with it. The many stories that I have heard from female friends have weaved into empathy inside my mind. The unmistakable expression on their faces stricken my heart. This, I have come to understand, is my strength and my weakness. The quality that has allowed me to do well in my professional world, to see through others' eyes, is the same that so easily absorbs the negative energy around me.
The dances were warm, gentle, soothing, comfortable, and playful. At one point, my mind ceased to hear the music; it had surrendered and allowed the music to take over, to become consciousness. I held on to my partner tightly, tears in my eyes, grateful for life. Then, I wasn't sure whether I saw it too in her face, and I averted my eyes, not sure what to do. I was not prepared for this (no one told me or warned me): to share the private emotions in these private moments, with a human being that you hardly know.
I want more. I have become greedy for the sublime experiences in the tango. I am afraid of this greed. I am afraid what I will become if/when I succumb to it.
I don't want to change. No wait. I want to change, to evolve, to transform. I am just afraid of what I will become.
balance
From Merrian Webster,
in·eq·ui·ty
Pronunciation:
\(ˌ)i-ˈne-kwə-tē\
Function:
noun
Date:
1556
1 : injustice , unfairness 2 : an instance of injustice or unfairness
SallyCat writes and explores her experience of being invited to only two tandas on one night. (I am always uncomfortable at milongas where the ratio is overwhelmingly more women than men. While some women can project warm energies no matter what, many more cannot hide (nor should they) their disappointments, and this is (for real) devastating to my psyche.)
Look at the second definition of inequity. An instance? I now believe that every woman has experienced the I-didn't-dance-the-whole-night "trauma." Not just once. Not just early in her life as tanguera. But it can, and it does, happen anytime, anywhere. Of course, I, as a man, have never, and probably would never suffer from this.
I believe that life is balanced. Everything is balanced by something else: good with bad; anger with compassion; greed with generosity. Thus, that a woman should suffer and sit for an entire night, without dancing, must be balanced (in my belief framework) by something else in the tango.
I don't know what that is.
in·eq·ui·ty
Pronunciation:
\(ˌ)i-ˈne-kwə-tē\
Function:
noun
Date:
1556
1 : injustice , unfairness 2 : an instance of injustice or unfairness
SallyCat writes and explores her experience of being invited to only two tandas on one night. (I am always uncomfortable at milongas where the ratio is overwhelmingly more women than men. While some women can project warm energies no matter what, many more cannot hide (nor should they) their disappointments, and this is (for real) devastating to my psyche.)
Look at the second definition of inequity. An instance? I now believe that every woman has experienced the I-didn't-dance-the-whole-night "trauma." Not just once. Not just early in her life as tanguera. But it can, and it does, happen anytime, anywhere. Of course, I, as a man, have never, and probably would never suffer from this.
I believe that life is balanced. Everything is balanced by something else: good with bad; anger with compassion; greed with generosity. Thus, that a woman should suffer and sit for an entire night, without dancing, must be balanced (in my belief framework) by something else in the tango.
I don't know what that is.
close your mouth
Miss Red Shoes just wrote about being an eye-closer (or not). This brings back memories, via a newly discovered tic that pretty much ruins my vanity (here, and here).
I am noticing that my mouth opens up, the deeper I sink into the tango moment. (I took a picture of myself, to demonstrate this "look." But it's just too dopey to post.) I have seen this expression in other men, eyes glazed over, mouth open, as if they are about to drool at any moment. Lovely, I know. Just think, while you are in the perfect embrace, with your perfect leader, with your eyes closed, in that dream-like state that can only be in the tango, your leader, with his gaping mouth, threatens to drool all over you. (Great! That's something else for me to work on.)
Anyway, that's now. My memory is this: when I was ten or eleven years old, and I watched TV, my mouth ALWAYS opened up. Frankly, I must have looked like an idiot. My aunties (they lived with us, attending various colleges), would yell at me, "Close your mouth! You look like an imbecile!"
I hated that their admonishments interrupted my bliss, my one-with-the-television moments. If I had to watch what I did with my mouth, then I couldn't completely let go of myself. A little part of me would be checking, and where was the fun in that?
I am noticing that my mouth opens up, the deeper I sink into the tango moment. (I took a picture of myself, to demonstrate this "look." But it's just too dopey to post.) I have seen this expression in other men, eyes glazed over, mouth open, as if they are about to drool at any moment. Lovely, I know. Just think, while you are in the perfect embrace, with your perfect leader, with your eyes closed, in that dream-like state that can only be in the tango, your leader, with his gaping mouth, threatens to drool all over you. (Great! That's something else for me to work on.)
Anyway, that's now. My memory is this: when I was ten or eleven years old, and I watched TV, my mouth ALWAYS opened up. Frankly, I must have looked like an idiot. My aunties (they lived with us, attending various colleges), would yell at me, "Close your mouth! You look like an imbecile!"
I hated that their admonishments interrupted my bliss, my one-with-the-television moments. If I had to watch what I did with my mouth, then I couldn't completely let go of myself. A little part of me would be checking, and where was the fun in that?
Must Dance Now
After the first new notes, I knew it would be a great set, and I started scanning the room. While walking towards the row of followers, I crossed the path of a friend, and almost ran into him.
"Dang! (OK, I used a stronger word.) Great set, I have to find someone to dance with."
"I know I know. Me too."
"Dang! (OK, I used a stronger word.) Great set, I have to find someone to dance with."
"I know I know. Me too."
trap
the world witnesses a predator take over a beginner.
what does the world think, of the predator, of the beginner?
... what does the world do?
does the beginner become marked as untouchable?
even as the beginner is unaware of the trap into which she has fallen, does the world treat her with kindness, or does the world treat her as damaged goods?
what does the world think, of the predator, of the beginner?
... what does the world do?
does the beginner become marked as untouchable?
even as the beginner is unaware of the trap into which she has fallen, does the world treat her with kindness, or does the world treat her as damaged goods?
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