better now.

So I went dancing last night, if you can believe it. Not just that, but I went waltzing, not something I would ever do in general, but a good friend suggested it, using a subtle means of persuasion she has wherein she essentially challenges you to come up with a reason you shouldn't do it, and once she has you sputtering (because there's rarely a good reason other than "I don't feel like it"), she says "Well, go on, then!" and you're done for. I learned some things.

Dancing is way, way, way harder than aikido. At least to me, it's faster, has to be done in rhythm, and is more complicated. That said, it has an awful lot of the same concepts, the instructor talking about maintaining connection to your partner, and what are useful things to do when following.

I don't like crowds of people I don't know. I feel isolated, alone, and unable to connect with people. And in a setting like that, surrounded by (in general) good, experienced, frequent dancers, I revert to being shy and self-conscious, because I feel worthless in that context, having nothing to offer: I have a hard time asking people to dance when the likelihood is that they're quite good, and I'm almost guaranteed to not only kick them, but do it off the beat. A decent number of people seemed to be okay with that. Others, not so much. Not that I blame them, I'm not usually crazy to train with people who are bad at aikido, but it's not very encouraging. I feel like if I'm going to take the action of inviting someone to dance, I should have some clue about it. To take another example, I wouldn't ask someone to go rollerblading with me, because I don't know how to rollerblade, so I'm not entirely sure how it would be fun.

I am, still, harshly self-critical beyond reason, and still self-conscious and worried about ruining someone else's good time. I think I'm able to get up on stage and sing (and, less frequently, act) because it's not a social event: the relationship between performer and audience is just in a different realm than everyday relationships between people.

I dunno. Except for the sex and cuddling things, solitude seems good these days. I could try and fill up the holes with another relationship, I guess, and the thought occurs to me regularly...but I feel like I've tried that before and I know how that story goes. Desire and wanting never go away as long as you feed them. And the whole different thing I'm trying on this trip is trust: trust that the loved one tells me all the truth I need to know, keep her trust in my telling her, and trusting in God (that's the Greek Big-Universe God, not Angsty Teenage Wrathful Old Testament God or Mellow Forgiving Free-Will New Testament God) to give me the things and people that come along naturally. That only happens when I let go and allow life to unfold in its own way, rather than trying to hammer it into the way I think it ought to be.