Now here’s my situation: I’m 17, graduating high school in a week (me thinks) and the only thing that has helped keep me somewhat sane this far has been — guess what — lindy hop.
How did I start? Well, let’s rewind to middle school, shall we? I have never — and I mean EVER — been good at anything. Not even mediocre. I sucked at everything; sports, school, piano (my mother wouldn’t even let me try any other instrument), and any extracurricular activity you can imagine. But I had this friend who took all of these dance classes, jazz, tap, ballet, etc. So naturally I was like “Pffft, I could totally do that” and then my parents were like “Yeaaaah, if we had money/time, which we don’t.” So I was like whateves, it’s like, totally, like too mainstream for me anyways, trying to ease the pain. So we get to high school, and all these movies start coming out with ballroom oriented themes with names that sounded like bad reality TV shows (ex. Dirty Dancing… numero dos… Havana Nights). And I took note of this since my latest fad had been trying to be a film geek, which has stuck. So here I had found something that was not mainstream and was something that I was excited about not sucking at. So I beg my parents. Fast forward to 2 years later to the summer after 11th grade. I find myself at Arthur Murray Dance studio in Ottawa, ON, Canada. I come to class every week each day waiting for the 30 second we can dance some swing. (Looking back I realize that they only showed us the basic step — single and triple — and an inside turn…) Meanwhile, I’m packin’ my bags because my parents decided on a whim that we should move to Los Angeles, hey, why not? So we did. I totally wanted to continue dancing, since I had not done enough to prove that I sucked yet, but the problem was that I had to convince my parents all over again to let me take classes. Fast forward to March (I had the invisible forces on my time so it only took 9 months this time around). I searched out a suitable studio and registered for the Swing I class. On the first day of class I was 30 mins late, because as I now know even though there is a schedule for the buses online, the drivers don’t seem to know about it. I had found ‘it’. And not only did ‘it’, I was good at ‘it’. Not tootin’ my own horn or anything, but I was awesome at it. Some thing just clicked inside me and the mess of torn apart pieces of paper that was suspended in mid air in a cloud of thick smoke just fell into place and nothing else mattered, everything was clear. It was like I reached enlightenment. Like I could see everything that had happen and would happen. It was weird. But I liked it. And from that day on I knew how I was going to save the world: Lindy Hop.
More coming soon. Unless someone murders me for this ridiculously long rant about myself. There are many heads that are shaking with shame at this moment.