For some reason, after dance parties or any major dance events that get me all hyped up and excited, the emotional crash afterwards really don't seem to be worth it.
I taught a class today. It was quick, witty (so I thought), and I had heaps of fun. I went for supper afterwards with the usual crew and we had our laughs. And then after that, I came home.
And sitting in the taxi on the ride back, a thought came into mind.
"Maybe all of this isn't worth it."
Maybe if I was to invest my heart and soul into this, it would get torn up, chewed out and spat back in my face. Am I willing to take that risk? To be honest, I'm not sure what I am afraid of. What scares me? If you were to ask me that question, I actually cannot give you an answer at all. This is the hardest I have ever worked for ANYTHING, and yet, I cannot tell you if I am fully dedicated to it.
Dance is going great for me. Got my fattest "paycheck" this week from a combination of the workshop that I taught on the weekend as well as class tonight. I've come up with a dance routine that can potentially become the best choreography I've done in a long while. So many things that I'm looking into. But yet, I'm holding back.
A proverb I used to hold on to quite dearly quoted, "He who hesitates is lost."
This particular phrase got me doing so many things that I would never ever do. Salsa dancing. An impromptu trip to a city for a dance weekend. Buying my $1000 tailsuit. Packing up my life and travelling halfway across the world for a girl I loved and wanted to have a real relationship with.
Starting Ceroc Merlion City.
So many things have happened this year and I remembered bitching previously about how when I was all ready to leave, this happened. All the excitement and commitment into a dance business occurred and I had to make this impromptu decision to stay. When the immigration papers come through for the Girlfriend and myself, I have to decide whether we stay or go. On to our new lives? Do I decide to put down roots here and end up here for good? Is this destiny? What if it isn't? What is right and what is wrong?
Is happiness the benchmark? The end by which all means is acceptable?
*****
I found a piece of myself from 2010 on the Internet the other night. It was an impromptu Google search and a hastily typed in URL which, surprisingly enough, existed. I read the one and only entry that I had written on that particular blog and I remembered the social dance event that we were practising for that morning. It was a chilly morning and the winds had picked up after the rain had stopped. I remembered not thinking about the French Lady when I woke up that morning and that made me smile. I wasn't emotionally drawn to her that much anymore. Every small victory counts, I guess.
My blog always had the title of "Chapter Life - Prologue" as a nod to the fact that I felt that my life has yet to truly begin. And I was not sure when it would. What would I be doing when the moment finally struck, when lightning zapped me from head to toe and I could comfortably write on the blog, "My life has begun."?
On this particular blog, my new blog title was Chapter Life. That's it. Finito. Nothing more than that.
Because for me, this was where my life started. I buzz cut my hair. I got contact lenses from a friend of mine who started up an optometrist shop. I got heavily involved with salsa and earned a 2nd place medal dancing cuban salsa in the National Champs. I was so proud of myself. This was my life. My own choosing. My destiny is shaped by my hands.
And now, I'm here. Has Life begun afresh? Is there now Life - Chapter 2? Is dance going to take over the next decade? Am I going to see the realisation of a dream that took nearly a decade to come into existence?
I don't know, really. But at least at the end of the day, I still know that this destiny is mine to make.
*****
I'm probably a closet voyeur. Yes, Sociologist, I know. Sometimes, I want to put my blog out there, splay it wide like a naked, de-feathered chicken for the world to see. And yet, I am fearful for the fact that I will be criticised. My thoughts torn asunder. My deepest darkest secrets, defaced into oblivion. So I keep typing in the dark, the glow of the keys keeping this blog a secret, only known to a handful that I know will bear this to the depths of a grave.
*****
Once upon a time, my love asked me if I was ashamed of her. She did not exist in my social online world. No mention of her has ever been made, no inkling of her being in my life was ever recorded. Am I ashamed? I don't think so. But the alternative to splay myself like a bloody chicken is for me, not an option.
One day, I won't have to hide in the dark. I may be able to blog publicly. I may be able to share my thoughts and dreams to the world and let the love of my life come into the light.
One day. One day.
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