fuzzbean.net

Fiddle:

Teacher good (possibly friend-worthy outside of class), students mostly not so good. In particular two women (one in her fifties and one in her seventies) who yapped throughout class, repeatedly asked questions that had been answered, were incapable of starting or stopping at appropriate times, and were utterly unable to shut their mouths even when the teacher was talking. An older man was also in the class who was similar, although more tolerable. The sort of people who will constantly redirect the conversation to them, even when absolutely no one shows any interest in what they're saying, and would really much prefer that they be quiet so some actual learning can be accomplished. It will be interesting to see how the teacher handles this in the future. She seems pretty passive (I) so I'm not sure if anything will happen.

The other downside is the pace of the class. I'm hopeful that it will pick up in later classes (we did have to go through the tedious tuning and parts-of-the-violin crap) but I could have managed the content of about four classes in that time period.

In any case. It will be valuable at least to get some feedback and an expert in the room. I'll see how things go. If it turns out to be too horribly slow I can talk to the instructor about moving up to Fiddle 2, which I may well do.

Capoeira:

In my continuing attempts to co-opt the traditional dance forms of cultures I have nothing to do with (hey, it's not MY fault the Germans and Poles have no decent dance forms, unless you count the goosestep and the slaughter-by-tanks, respectively), I have taken up capoeira. I can't even fake this ethnicity (I get mistaken for Irish a lot--the now-red hair helps). No way. No tan is ever going that deep on this skin.

It was fun! They made us do cartwheels and handstands (neither of which I have attempted since flunking out of gymnastics in fourth grade). I was reasonably impressed that I was able to do as passable a cartwheel as I was (given that it's been well over a decade since any attempt) and my handstand, while disappointing, at least did not include my arms giving out and me falling flat on my face. Upper body strength is good. Balance will come later.

The class was more women than I expected, only two men plus a male teacher (and a half teacher who disappeared partway through the class.) This is slightly disappointing. (The male teacher is *hot* though, in that muscled dancer kind of way. I'd love to go out dancing with him. Also...dreads! I'd hit it. Mmmmmyeah.)

The other bad thing was that it was done in bare feet, which means that I've given myself two ripped blisters on my big toes. And since I didn't notice until after they'd ripped, I had a good period of rubbing floor-dirt into them. I scrubbed them out well in the shower and will neosporin the crap out of them in the next couple days. Next class I will wear yoga shoes or ballet slippers and hope that helps.

When I asked the teacher if she had a bandaid she said she didn't, and looked sympathetic. I said, eh, no worries, I was used to it, and the male teacher asked if I was a dancer (which I guess was pretty obvious from my clothes/posture/fitness level/etc.). Yes, I said, I was, ballet and Irish. This inevitably led to the request for a demonstration, which I provided. I've forgotten *all* my steps at this point, except for the very first things I've learned; it's pretty sad. My leaps are still excellent, though--possibly better than when I was dancing properly. But still...I'd forgotten how *good* it feels to use the floor, move across the whole room in four steps and a jump, lift up like flying. He grinned at me and said I loved it, that I opened up when I moved.

I do.

Conversions:

LJ FOAF(oaf...oaf?) to F. Bloodstones is a friend of Dreams-of-wings who I met through Simon Funk. Radiantsun pointed Integreillumineat me, who reminded Dreams-of-wings (who is visiting Chicago soon, yip!) that I'm here, Dreams-of-wings pointed Bloodstones at me and in forty-eight hours or less a meeting was arranged. Who says the Internet isn't a powerful networking tool? NOT ME.

(Doubly funny: Bloodstones went to the same high school as my ex, Visitor From Tomorrow, graduated the same year, and knew immediately who he was.)

We met up at Old Town once we got Bloodstones straightened out via cell phones and my magic book of maps; she checked out the school briefly and then we went for a wander up and down Lincoln. We ended up having tacos at Brioso, just up the street; pork for me and cheese for her. Very tasty and excellent company. She's glowy and alive in the same way that Dreams-of-wings is. I need to hang out with people like that more often. We talked about capoeira (she's done quite a lot), relationships, new apartments, etc. etc. It was lovely. We passed some sort of apple festival where they were charging $5 to get in...we were curious but not $5 worth of curious. We found a wee store that sold multicolored rubber duckies that Bloodstones now owns for her duckie-themed bathroom. Lincoln Park is essentially the Chicago Coolidge Corner corollary. It makes me feel better to know it's there.

We finished with carrot cake and steamed milk inside my car--the coffee shop was closing and it was looking stormy. People looked pissy that we were just sitting in the car, but, meh. I told her about the Regina Spektor concert coming up and she might come. Or we'll just go explore.

It's good to have new people.

But I'm going to hurt like hell tomorrow. Must drink water now. Owie.