Writing

I could write about how dancing in SF was like a breath of fresh air. I could write about how, when visiting a new place, knowing one good dancer can unlock an evening of excellent dances. I could write about how arm-pumping enthusiasm is tolerable but annoying, and how tango seems to be made for smoothness. I could write about how arrogance can make almost any dance intolerable.

But you know all of that already, don’t you?

Nowadays, I feel like I’ve hit that point where I don’t need to write it all out. I have learned that the people who need to hear it aren’t listening. That the people who are listening already get it. And that I have so many other things to do with my time.

I am a breath away from launching my freelance translation career. It is exciting and scary and wonderful. I am dancing less, for now… But dancing better, and understanding more. And I am seeing how precious even my non-dancing time can be. Life can’t always be translated into words. (Not that it will stop me from trying; it just doesn’t make sense to try right now.)

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