Category: convos with strangers

7.6.15

Other than 1-2 years (or more I really don’t remember) of childhood ballet, jazz, and tap, I have little dance history. I went to this class to shake up my workout routine. The aerobics floor was packed and I only caught glimpses of myself in the mirror, but what I could see was abysmal. I was so focused on the teacher, I forgot what I actually looked like during the routines. I absolutely didn’t mirror her fluid movements. I was stilted and awkward and off-beat and dizzy, but my heart was pumping and adrenaline (from the embarrassment) was flowing.

Me: I’m sorry I’m in front of you and you have to deal with my un-coordination.

Her: Oh, don’t even worry about it. I’m the same. I’m so busy trying to follow the teacher, I haven’t noticed anyone else.

Me: Sometimes, I have to stand here and laugh because I do not get these moves.

Her: Me too. It takes a minute to catch on.

Amidst the thumping bass and swirling hips, two white girls got their hip hop dance moves going. Well, I tried REALLY hard. It was difficult to follow along, not bump into anyone, keep the beat, loosen my shoulders, swivel my hips, and look natural. The only thing natural about me was the sweat.

6.11.15

I pushed through the first set of absurdly heavy library doors and glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone was behind me. A man was, so I paused and held the door for him.

Him: Thank you. And now you have to let me. *scurries past* *pushes next door open* *waves me through*

Me: Why, thank you.

Him: One good turn deserves another.

The clichéd statement has never felt so genuine or warm. Who knew opening doors would be such a pleasant way to pass the evening?

6.10.15, Florence + the Machine concert

*slow music* *Florence’s sultry voice*

Him (to H and myself): Do you know what song this is?

H: *shakes head*

Me: What Kind of Man. Wait for it. It’ll pick up in a second.

*lights flash* *music cranks up by 1000 decibles*

Him: *shouts* Oh, yes. Great song! The slow beginning threw me.

We all jumped and jived and felt the drumbeats in our chests. Noticing I was a receptive audience, we chatted about the show, guessed which songs would be next, and high-fived as the house lights came on. He surprised me because with all the extra time H and I had had (we arrived right as the doors opened), I’d studied the crowd’s (predominantly female) dynamics. Most males there were with a female significant other and while this guy was with a girl, they appeared to be friends, and it didn’t seem as if he’d been coerced into attending. In fact, he was taking notes on the set list. No one in the room had more enthusiasm than Florence, but this kid was close.

I’m relatively new to the Florence + the Machine fandom (about 2 years in), so I’m happy to learn they have such delightful fans.

On another note, I’ve never been to a concert like that or seen a performer like her. Florence was a powerhouse, but also delicate. Athletic. Ethereal. Energetic. Angelic. Booming. Commanding. Deliberate. She laughed and broke our hearts with her honesty. She floated and twirled around the stage and then charged across it. She was one thing and then she was another, but her voice never wavered or sounded anything less than flawless.

I wore goosebumps the whole time.

3.10.15

i’d stepped to the side to give a mother and her daughter the right of way because the upcoming stretch of sidewalk was one way due to lingering snow. the mother, recognizing my gesture, quickened her step. the daughter, 6 at most, but most likely 5, trudged ever slowly forward.

mother: come on, honey. hurry up.

me: *smiles* no hurry.

daughter appears to be slowing down.

mother: let’s go, sweetie. this nice lady is waiting.

daughter: *scowls* *grumbles* *doesn’t hurry*

the temperatures were as warm as they’ve been all winter, so i didn’t mind waiting. also, the thundercloud of a little girl was amazing to watch. i’m not sure if she just isn’t a morning person (what kid isn’t though?) or if she was preparing her mother for her actions when she’s 15 or if she didn’t like the breakfast her mother’d made her eat that morning, but both mother and daughter’s actions were born of familiarity and comfort and love.

it made me think of my interactions with my mom and i’m super grateful i’m no longer the troublesome teen because i sure gave my mom a run for her money back then.