I have problems. Lots of them.
I handle myself well, I swear, I am a functional part of society and if we were to draw comparisons I’d say I far surpass a lot of people who DON’T have anything close to my issues but honestly…. I’m not too fond of people or social situations or people touching me or people looking at me or looking at myself or… I’ll stop, you get it.
I’m trying to improve though because while I love my cat, I would really like to get married and have an actual family some day and I can’t do that when my only dating options are my (very straight, very by-the-book-Jesus-y) roommates and the freaking mammoth that lives upstairs.
I’m reclaiming my social life a little at a time and right now that means going Blues Dancing with my friend Jo whenever we can.
Recently we went out of town for a three day dance retreat featuring workshops and master classes for different styles followed by live music and social dancing. There were wonderful instructors and staff and a professional photographer to document everything.
The classes, the dances, the freaking SOUL TRAIN I sucked up the courage to participate in despite every fiber of my being screaming about the perfectly good dead-bolt we saw on the ladies’ room down the hall. Everything.
And the photos have surfaced on Facebook.
In one of them, my mouth is open and forming a sort of “oh!” shape. My face looks surprised. I’m in mid step. The shot is completely candid and I was able to laugh it off because I know darn well I am in the middle of some sort of swear word and just messed up the arms (AGAIN!) on the flamenco piece we’re working on.
Of course someone tagged me in it. No I will not post the picture. No I am not sorry.
I commented something on the photo about my mouth being open with a cute “:P” at the end so as not to offend anyone and the photographer commented back.
Apparently I’m a work of art.
“I look at this shot and see a moment of delight in clarity.”
Delight. In. Clarity.
Sir, you caught me cursing like a land-bound sailor because I f***ed up the arms again.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t understand photography.