can't dance, don't make me

Well, I can dance, I love it. I loved dancing in the kitchen last year, and when I first married we used to dance. We stopped, or he did, and then I couldn't. Common event. Tonight however, I wanted to go hear some salsa dancing and tried one after another, calls to see if anyone would join me. I felt like the kid on roto dial working his way down the list looking for a prom date. All were busy in one form or another. Then what, stay home because I was alone, thereby reinforcing aloneness? Or go out. And plan safe parking, putting myself in a fun environment so I would not stay home again. I finally did it. I have had conversations the last two days with friends who go to movies alone when they do not have someone to go with and I admired the event. I travel alone, usually on business, and shop alone, but would rather have someone to share the event with. But I have done it, flying alone to India, Turkey, all over the U.S. So what is the big deal about going out alone? My friend last night said, " When the lights are down, you are still alone in the movie theater, who cares?" I do. I want a hand to grab in the dark, someone to laugh with and cringe behind in the scary scenes. And to finger fumble with as we both reach for the popcorn. And tonight, it would have been good to have someone to walk onto the dance floor with to samba. Not that it mattered, because people were dancing alone, but I just can't. I would rather have someone to react to. Yet, I do want to take samba lessons and just may have to, like tonight, go on my own. Years ago, I took myself to rock climbing lessons alone and met my husband. I find that when I start being forthright about myself I do much better and so am glad I went out tonight. I had the chance to not be alone last night but it wasn't the right time, wish it had been tonight. None of this has to do with food, or Turkey, it is not witty, a rant, or swearing, just a record. I went, I listened , I didn't samba. Sort of I smoked, but didn't innhale, I lusted only in my heart, and I danced only inside my shoes. Next time. baby steps, baby dance.

life cartography

I love maps, I love globes. I have one in my classroom which is archaic, with West and East Germany on it, the Soviet Union is gigantic, and the Middle East is relatively un-partitioned. The colors are wonderful and I spin it off its axis to look at Turkey more closely. A teacher threw it away because the paper had worn off over Nebraska. Personally, I don't think that is too much of a loss.

At the back of my classroom is another map which to some students is 'upside down" Rather than the white guys on top and Europe USA rules, Australia is on top, and Norway is clear down at the bottom of the paper. Kids complain. "That's wrong.!" My Australian math colleague loves it. " Right on , good on you mate, Tasmania rules!" I get all pontific and point out that the Earth is a sphere, there is no top of bottom. But mostly I am pleased it irritates them, which means they notice.

It is interesting, the concept of being on top. Top of the fold, top of the peak, on top, top to bottom, all due to maps.

Yet, much as I love the beauty of maps, old ones, worn out ones, I am terrible at navigating. I have spent part of today printing out mapquest to go with my AAA maps for a trip to the Redwoods next week. I am compuslively writing the road signs in letters large enough to read while driving. And making sure I have fuel along the way. Of course I do, but I fuel up often, it makes me nervous. And, considering a magnifying glass to read the damn thing when driving. North to me is always straight ahead, I get left and right constantly confused, and if a house changes its color my directions to my home are defunct. If told, "Head north turn south two blocks," I do it in reverse and I might as well go to perdition. I tore the map pages out of a guidebook in Boston once and had to literally turn it right to left ad I followed the freedom trail.I was not free, I was lost. Really, it is pathetic.

If I walk on the beach I must make sure I know exactly where I came in over the dunes. When I lived on the edge of the forest, no Hansel, there were no breadcrumbs and I didn't venture far. One of my friends wants me to join her this summer by meeting her at a campsite when she is horsecamping. All I could think of ws, " how do I find the campsite?" I imagine myself lost, dying by the side of the road while the horses are just upstream. I am not kidding.

Really, this must stop. I need an orienteering class. I need to pay more attention at the beginning so I am not lost in the woods. It is holding me back.

And therefore, is the metaphor I am finding each time I write something, although I am not writing about food today. I need to pay more attention at the beginning of a conversation, meeting, relationship, date, sex, to any incipient warnings that I might lose my way. Too often posing a look of attention ON my face, I forget to pay attention IN my head. And then halfway through with many cul de sacs and sideturns and backturning of the conversation, the date, the escapade, I am lost.

There is no compass for the date. There is no prime meridian for the heart. And there is no mapquest for love, life, or travels. But, if I continue to stay on the path who knows what might be off the road. It is not Frost's The Road Not Taken, it is more the road that is off road, unpaved, worth taking, or even unmade. I have stayed on the road of caution much too long. I want a sign that says, " the road to serendipity! turn here. now. " I must remember this while juggling all the many opportunities this summer.

Now,do I pack more water for the trip or coffee? Another story.