Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I was supposed to have blogged but for some reason, I never managed to get around to it. Things have been busy, as of late and things at the moment are just bordering on slightly crazy. Every evening, when I go home, I look for a bit of peace and quiet and reprieve from the world around me. I come to work and I put on my stethoscope and I work away at these patients who ask for more, demand more, beg for more and yet, after giving my time and energy and knowledge and my mind, I end up feeling as though I've pushed and drained myself through a sieve. I'm just a mushy pulp of Poet left in the bottom of the sink after you've finished squeezing lemons and oranges. Not a pretty sight, that's for sure.

 

Life at the moment consists of work, work, and more work. Dance practice. Dance classes. Teaching classes. Solo sessions in the mirror looking at myself and perfecting the "basic Cuban movement." Loud drumming sounds from Cuba throbbing through my room as I practise my steps in a place that perhaps only I will ever know and experience and enjoy.

 

After typing this, I truly wonder whether I actually enjoy dancing. Like honestly.

 

Or have I pushed myself too far? Have I decided that I'm still flying when I'm actually lying broken like a dirtied, forgotten Raggedy-Ann doll at the bottom of an unknown ravine?

 

Another thought on my mind recently consisted of the fact that as much as I would love my future partner/spouse/girlfriend/favourite-person-of-the-opposite-sex to be a dancer herself and to be able to groove with me on the floor, I now don't think that its too necessary. After having been in a few relationships where we were once dance partners or sometimes just dancers, really, it never really worked out. The mental dream that I was going to be practising dance with her at home, at the studio, on the competition floor, at a bar, on the social floor never really came about. Sure, I could teach. Sure, I could guide through some of these movements but yet, when push came to shove, it never happened. My partner/dance partner would end up sitting on the sidelines while I, being the dancing social butterly that I am, asked dance after dance from other women except her. Yes, she would get on the dance floor with me for a ceroc or a bachata but apart from that, we somehow seemed content that we didn't dance together.

 

Familiarity breeds contempt, anyone?

 

Anyway. Work calls and I really do need to get up on the wards.

 

Tootles.