birds of a feather flock together. but do they have rhythm? yesterday we went to a dance class. intermediate hip hop to be exact. at the sparkling new culture shock dance studio. it's actually quite nice what they've done. it feels kind of cool to have san diego be the home base for this dance organization that is really on the cutting edge of what a non-profit dance company can be like. anyways, they just got a new dance studio and after some time speculating about it, we took a class. i would have wanted to opt for the beginner dance class except it starts too early. so intermediate class it was. we puffed ourselves up by watching and mocking the "cardio-basic hip hop moves" class. let it be said, never make fun of other people because karma is apparently an unrhythmic unforgiving bitch.



i haven't danced in a long time. like actually stand there and try to learn things in eight count segments. in fact, any previous experiences i've had with choreographed dancing was really not based on any talent i possessed but rather bestowed upon me by the mere coincidence of being in the right place at the right time (this being michigan, turn of the century, circa 2000s). it was horrifically fun at the time; to learn, to perform, to suck. but it's also something that i happened to catch the initial wave of, before being violently blown over by the ensuing generations of dance gods and goddesses. i'm what you might delicately call a "back line" dancer. yes. in fact, i've even read a poem from an enterprising freshman (at the time) detailing exactly how bad i really was. his/her reasoning was that if i was dancing up there, he/she/it should've been up there too. no names disclosed of course.



anyway. i found out yesterday that my questionable skills have not exactly improved since that time. talk about lost. when they start teaching and taking for granted the fact that i can move three things at once -- on beat no less -- i get a little flustered. when they start counting off the "one e and a two..." i'm pretty much looking around for the nearest exit. slow it down man, i'm old and uncoordinated. my mind don't move that fast and my body moves even slower. shit. at the end of the hour, the instructor split us up into three small groups to "perform" for the others. the reasoning (we think) behind his separation of the small groups was based on demonstrated knowledge of the routine. with group one being the best group and so on. guess which group i was in? if you didn't guess correctly, you aren't following my story close enough.



anyhow. long story short. it was fun. it was new. it was exciting. it was frustrating. it was fun. i think we'll do it again. if they don't demote or ostrasize me. which is quite possible. so anyway, come on down to join us. humiliation is exponentially multiplied the more friends you have around you. trust me, i did the math.