This one's for me, this one's for me
Not for anyone else, I need it you see
I threw all I had into the sea
Now I want a little back, this one's for me
(-Tom Petty)
This weekend was Waltz Ball. So yeah, I guess my pledge to be a misanthrope lasted the better part of a week. Give me the chance and I'll leap right back in with both feet. It's kind of a strange combination, being a gregarious extrovert, but I can't really help myself. Social situations that involve dressing up are kind of hard to resist.
Speaking of which:
March 25th, 2006: the first time I've ever worn a tux. To my right is my lovely date, Stacy. (Note: I'd post more pictures, but the brightness/red-eye problems with most of them has to be taken care of first.)
As per usual at Waltz Ball, I danced with ten ladies. I get kind of single-minded at the Ball. You see, at something like this where you're encouraged to find partners for each of the ten waltzes, I kind of feel like I have the advantage. At so many dances, if you ask a girl you don't know to dance, you're running a big risk--or at least, I feel like I am, though that may be more about me than the girls I ask. At any rate, I had a 100% success rate asking girls I know only in passing, or not at all, to waltz with me. Even if it was the situation was geared towards that kind of success (thankfully), it sort of bolstered my flagging self-confidence.
Among my partners were a friend from NKE that I hadn't talked to in some time; a girl I'd met through Facebook but never actually met in person; and a friend from EYC that I've known since I was 14. And, unlike my freshman year, all the waltzes were danceable, and none of them were insanely fast. Altough throwing Nora Jones' "Come Away With Me" as the last waltz was kind of a bad idea on whoever's part--it's so syncopated that even if you find the beat, you end up losing it ten seconds later.
I also danced with--though not during the waltzes, just during the drivel music they play after the waltzes--a girl I met freshman year in an English class. It was gratifying to meet someone who also a memory that was good for at least two years back--and gratifying to meet a nice Irish girl, as well.
Afterwards, Stacy and I came back here and watched the Firefly episode "Out Of Gas," which I did a post about not too long ago. And now I'm doing a post about this. So I guess it comes full circle.
Waltz Ball taught me something very important. No matter how bad at waltzing you are, there's usually one partner who will apologize for being worse than you.
"Mighty fine shindig."
-Mal Reynolds
Not for anyone else, I need it you see
I threw all I had into the sea
Now I want a little back, this one's for me
(-Tom Petty)
This weekend was Waltz Ball. So yeah, I guess my pledge to be a misanthrope lasted the better part of a week. Give me the chance and I'll leap right back in with both feet. It's kind of a strange combination, being a gregarious extrovert, but I can't really help myself. Social situations that involve dressing up are kind of hard to resist.
Speaking of which:
March 25th, 2006: the first time I've ever worn a tux. To my right is my lovely date, Stacy. (Note: I'd post more pictures, but the brightness/red-eye problems with most of them has to be taken care of first.)
As per usual at Waltz Ball, I danced with ten ladies. I get kind of single-minded at the Ball. You see, at something like this where you're encouraged to find partners for each of the ten waltzes, I kind of feel like I have the advantage. At so many dances, if you ask a girl you don't know to dance, you're running a big risk--or at least, I feel like I am, though that may be more about me than the girls I ask. At any rate, I had a 100% success rate asking girls I know only in passing, or not at all, to waltz with me. Even if it was the situation was geared towards that kind of success (thankfully), it sort of bolstered my flagging self-confidence.
Among my partners were a friend from NKE that I hadn't talked to in some time; a girl I'd met through Facebook but never actually met in person; and a friend from EYC that I've known since I was 14. And, unlike my freshman year, all the waltzes were danceable, and none of them were insanely fast. Altough throwing Nora Jones' "Come Away With Me" as the last waltz was kind of a bad idea on whoever's part--it's so syncopated that even if you find the beat, you end up losing it ten seconds later.
I also danced with--though not during the waltzes, just during the drivel music they play after the waltzes--a girl I met freshman year in an English class. It was gratifying to meet someone who also a memory that was good for at least two years back--and gratifying to meet a nice Irish girl, as well.
Afterwards, Stacy and I came back here and watched the Firefly episode "Out Of Gas," which I did a post about not too long ago. And now I'm doing a post about this. So I guess it comes full circle.
Waltz Ball taught me something very important. No matter how bad at waltzing you are, there's usually one partner who will apologize for being worse than you.
"Mighty fine shindig."
-Mal Reynolds
1 Comments:
Good blog, nice to be here
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