![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Dancing for robots
Sep. 23rd, 2008 03:25 pmMy attitude towards dancing is entirely backwards. Each week, I'm most engaged by the analytical side: step practice and figuring out new dances. Piecing together the bits of an unfamiliar dance into something that flows and works and fills out 32 bars appeals to me, like solving a tile puzzle. Turning off my brain and simply dancing a known dance — the part everyone else seems to most enjoy — is more like running through the steps of a previously solved problem: fun, but not really the point of the thing.
That's not universally true. There are dances that make me feel like I'm flying (cf. Australian Ladies), and turning off my brain during them is a torrential joy. And I'm a terrible flirt, of course; it's difficult to find any downside to a dance with a charming partner. But, in general, what really intrigues me about Scottish is the construction of the beautiful device, rather than turning it on and watching it run. This leaves me at odds with most people in the class, who mostly just like to dance.
Once in a while, though, I get props for the way my mind works. Last night, Robert M. was teaching us a dance with an odd, novel figure in it, in which the corners advance and retire four times, like a factory crusher in a cartoon, while the lead couple slips in and out between them. There didn't seem to be enough room or time to get everybody through without bumping, and much consternation and grumbling ensued. Then:
Me: It could be diagonal, orthogonal, diagonal, orthogonal.
Robert (slowly): It could be diagonal, orthogonal, diagonal, orthogonal.
Me (brightly): Or DODO!
The figure worked perfectly, I got a round of applause, and they insisted on calling it the DODO figure thereafter.
That's not universally true. There are dances that make me feel like I'm flying (cf. Australian Ladies), and turning off my brain during them is a torrential joy. And I'm a terrible flirt, of course; it's difficult to find any downside to a dance with a charming partner. But, in general, what really intrigues me about Scottish is the construction of the beautiful device, rather than turning it on and watching it run. This leaves me at odds with most people in the class, who mostly just like to dance.
Once in a while, though, I get props for the way my mind works. Last night, Robert M. was teaching us a dance with an odd, novel figure in it, in which the corners advance and retire four times, like a factory crusher in a cartoon, while the lead couple slips in and out between them. There didn't seem to be enough room or time to get everybody through without bumping, and much consternation and grumbling ensued. Then:
Me: It could be diagonal, orthogonal, diagonal, orthogonal.
Robert (slowly): It could be diagonal, orthogonal, diagonal, orthogonal.
Me (brightly): Or DODO!
The figure worked perfectly, I got a round of applause, and they insisted on calling it the DODO figure thereafter.
