Andrew Smith Dance

Stanford.

I'm attending graduate school at Stanford.

That sentence still seems weird to me. I hope it stays that way.

My egress was filled with tears and many hugs with my wonderful and supportive family. I am so grateful for their presence. I wouldn't be the person I am without them.

The journey down to California was appropriately lengthy, giving me ample time to take stock of my new endeavors and past experiences. With some good music and privacy, I was able to freely and openly address my emotions. Spending nine hours in a car can work wonders for your state of mind (or wreck havoc, I would imagine).

Driving down south was mostly unremarkable. I-5 was quiet the whole way. Getting into the San Francisco area was stressful as the highway lanes narrowed and more cars appeared. These factors normally wouldn't be a problem except that I had a fully loaded car so that I couldn't see out my rear view or right side mirrors. Still, I made it to Elena's without incident where I crashed for the night.

Last night was my first night spent in my new room. Boxes cover every square inch of floor space. I get a lot of balance practice trying to navigate my way around boxes to get at a pair of socks, my computer, or a toothbrush.

The move-in process went relatively smoothly. Assistance by Elena proved pivotal in maintaining good spirits and speeding up the hauling process. I was concerned about what I'd do for dinner: I had no food and little energy to prepare a proper meal for myself. Ted stepped in to save the day. Calling me out of the blue, he wished me a good day of moving and invited my over to dinner in SF. Super-Ted to the rescue! Both the food and the company were a perfect welcome to San Francisco and a new phase in my life.

The meal included: excellent wine; tri-tip; grilled peppers with cream cheese (!), sage, thyme, salt, and olive oil; sauteed spinach, and rice.

Choosing prudence over recklessness, I opted out of attending Swig last night in favor of sleep; I had signed up for a 7am ride the next day. Returning home, I was introduced to the other housemates whom all seem like fine individuals. Grad students are so much more chill than undergrad. I think I'm going to like it here.

Shaking off drowsiness (and apprehension about joining a ride that would leave me in the dust) the next morning, I rode my way out to the appointed meeting spot. I joined two other men (Ken and Sol) for a brisk (read: 15 mph average) 30-mi ride around Stanford and its environs. With flats, a four-mile climb, and descents with challenging corners, this ride provided a well-rounded cycling experience. Being a small group, it provided a low-key environment to introduce myself to the cycling group and learn more about the Stanford club. I think I performed admirably, though I was clearly less strong than the other two riders. I did manage to keep pace, however, so I'm hopeful that I'll step it up by racing season next spring.

Returning to campus exhausted, it occurred to me that I still lacked food supplies. Damn! My ravenous hunger growing difficult to ignore, I made a quick search on Google to find a nearby cafe. (Thankfully I had set up my internet access the night before -- not sure what I would've done otherwise.) Refueling on a three-egg omelette with ham, avocado, tomato, bell pepper, onion, and cheese, I finally took a moment to gather my thoughts and write this post.

It's been a busy few days and I imagine the pace will only continue to ramp up. I am grateful for these moments that allow me to appreciate my situation.

Now it's time to return to campus, unpack, explore the school, and meet people. I have my fingers crossed.

As far as the dancing life goes, it seems there's an active dance community at Stanford. Not quite sure what styles yet, but it will be good to connect with fellow dancers in school. I may even get to teach (or assist teaching) classes offered through the residence halls. We'll see how it goes. For right now, I'm just happy to be a dancer: turns out it is an exciting talking point for many people (who knew?!).

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9/14/10

Much news! Wish I could tell, but right now I must tackle my room. I grow tired of not being able to walk in it. Will try to post later.

Finally done moving out of the deLay house. Now I just need to prepare for my move to Stanford. I'm sad to see the deLay house disband, but such is life: it changes. We all move on to new and exciting stages in our lives. Seems like a lot of people I know are on the brink of something big.

I think I put so much time and energy into the move because I wanted to distract myself. It served to fill the gaping hole of time in my life that used to be occupied by Lauren. Suddenly I have this time on my hands and I don't know what to do with it. Given the nature of the situation, it's tempting to use that time to mope and feel miserable, but I know that's not healthy. It's not what either of us want.

People ask me if I'm excited to go to Stanford. Not be mean, but, well, DUH. It's Stanford. It's San Francisco. It's all the new people I'll meet, the knowledge I'll gain, the connections I'll make, the opportunities I'll seize, the growth I'll achieve.

What I can't tell them (and sometimes don't want to tell them) is that I'm also overwhelmed with sadness that this fulfilling, beautiful, intense, and nourishing stage of my relationship with Lauren is coming to a close. Just when the going got really good, it's time to stop. I wake up sometimes with tears streaming down my face because I was having this great dream about her and then remembered that she's not here. I know that will pass in time, but it's damn hard right now.

On to more positive thoughts.

First up: Tuesday Blues. Last Tuesday was special. Not because of the bands (which were fun) or the attendance (which was impressive), but rather because of the surprise jam that Jonathan organized for me. Grabbing the people that make Portland great for me, I was lead into a circle and graced with an outpouring of love and appreciation. This gesture was incredibly considerate on Jonathan's part. It also caught me at the right time: just when I'm needing affirmations of support from people, here comes a whole troupe to yell in my ears that I'm a good person.

Second up: suit shopping. It's time to look dapper, dammit. My suit just doesn't, well, suit me. Too be in the shoulders, to wide in the waist, too business-like. A trip to Nordstroms, unfortunately, yielded little success: I am simply of a different build than the average American male. (In addition, suits found on a rack these days are often too stale.) Still, the time spent hanging out with Jonathan was rewarding. He makes for a great companion. I think he'd be fantastic foLooks like I'm now in the market for a tailor-made suit. I know that'll run me up a lot of money, but it's a worthwhile investment. It's hard to deny a sharp dresser.

(As a side note: I told Lauren about my shopping plans and she gushed. Let me repeat that: Lauren gushed over something. She doesn't do that about... anything! Definitely received serious positive reinforcement over the idea of finding a new suit.)

Third up: well, actually I don't have a third up. More as a note to myself: get my life in gear. I have a big to-do list that I've been neglecting because of the moving process. Tomorrow marks a new day, one that I intend to be highly productive.


I'd like to close by sharing some poetry that speaks to me. This one is by Hafiz.

Cast All Your Votes for Dancing

I know the voice of depression
Still calls to you.

I know those habits that can ruin your life
Still send their invitations.

But you are with the Friend now
And look so much stronger.

You can stay that way
And even bloom!

Keep squeezing drops of the Sun
From your prayers and work and music
And from your companions' beautiful laughter.

Keep squeezing drops of the Sun
From the sacred hands and glance of your Beloved
And, my dear,
From the most insignificant movements
Of your own holy body.

Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins
That may buy you just a moment of pleasure,
But then drag you for days
Like a broken man
Behind a farting camel.

You are with the Friend now.
Learn what actions of yours delight Him,
What actions of yours bring freedom
And Love.

Whenever you say God's name, dear pilgrim,
My ears wish my head was missing
So they could finally kiss each other
And applaud all your nourishing wisdom!

O keep squeezing drops of the Sun
From your prayers and work and music
And from your companions' beautiful laughter

And from the most insignificant movements
Of your own holy body.

Now, sweet one,
Be wise.
Cast all your votes for Dancing!

I have confirmation from the organizers: I'm DJing at North Star Blues! Check it:

North Star Blues

I am excited to be back to the Midwest to share my love for music and dance. Hope you all make it out -- it will be a blast! With a lineup including Steven Watkins, Corey Wright, and many others, you just can't lose.

I've just been hired to teach and DJ at the event Blues Dancing in the Star Shower, August 10th-13th. This community event hosted by Owen Banks will feature classes, hiking, and hanging out during the day; live bands in the evening; and talented DJs at the late nights; all of which is set under the captivating Perseid meteor shower. It all takes place in Eatonville, WA, which is roughly between Portland and Seattle.

If you haven't checked it out already, do so: it should be a fun time. I will bring new and exciting music to the table after being so inspired by NWBR. You can expect to hear me each night. I will also teach a class on energy control and lyrical dancing. Should be a blast, so I hope you come out for camaraderie and to support the local Pacific Northwest blues community.

Just uploaded my photos from the Northwest Blues Recess. Looking over the pictures made me reflect upon the event, prompting me to write down my thoughts.

This event comes at a challenging time in my life. My relationship with Lauren will soon draw to a close, with much uncertainty of whether it would ever resume again. Coming up on the conclusion of an intense, sincere, and rewarding relationship like the one I've shared with Lauren, I find myself feeling a little vulnerable and alone, trying to understand who I will be with her no longer in my life.

It began on an unpleasant note: driving down by myself. With so many people looking for carpooling options, it was a little strange to find myself alone in my car while others were packed in like sardines elsewhere. I knew it was mostly just how the cards fell, but on some level I felt like I was being a lamer and that's why I was by myself.

Friday was no doubt the most difficult part of the weekend. Already not in a state where I could share myself easily to masses of people, I was jarred by the huge number of people at the event, all of them feeling snuggly and wanting to be close. There were a lot of people I didn't know or knew only vaguely from seeing them on the dance floor. I just wanted to be alone or with a few people that I knew well and to spend time with them in a quiet environment. Not exactly mentally prepared for this event, needless to say.

My mood and experience at NWBR improved steadily with time. Saturday was spent outside doing yoga, sitting in the sun, playing games together, and just being chill. Energized by the solar rays and the laid-back vibes of good friends, I was better prepared to go dancing that night.

I make it sound like dancing is a big deal because it is to me, especially with alternative music. A lot of it is emotional, tense, and heart-baring. You have to invest so much of yourself to get something out of it, because you must connect with the pathos of the music. Let's face it, there's a lot of alternative music out there that isn't danceable by any measure other than through facilitating expression and an emotional connection.

Saturday proved to be a magical night. Tucked away in a forest grove, dimly lit with Christmas lights, beautiful textiles hung in the trees, you were whisked away by the experience to another world, one filled with dancers moving barefoot on a clayey surface packed hard with their feet. The music, particularly the inspired grooves of Auditory Sculpture, filled me with the dance spirit in a way that I haven't experience in a long time with alternative music. It was a pleasure to feel it again; I was worried I had lost touch with that side as I have transitioned to a profound love for traditional Blues music.

Sunday afternoon proved to be another relaxing day spent with friends. After much corralling, we organized a group to go to a nearby reservoir for swimming and chilling. Much fun was to be had with many floatation devices and even more people. In line with pretty much the whole weekend, it culminated with us congealing as one giant flotilla/human carpet and drifting in the water.

I didn't think it could get much better until I saw the location for the Sunday evening dance. A small clearing on a tall hill in the rolling terrain of Roseburg, your 30 minute walk from the road was rewarded with an impressive panoramic view. Add in dancers, surrounded by tall grass, and the sun just setting over the nearby ridge, and you have one of the most memorable dances ever. I received the high compliment of being given the closing set at this unique spot. Apparently blessed by the DJ gods, I picked all the right music on the spot to mix the most popular set of the whole weekend. I think the high point was at the beginning, though, when I played the theme to The Boondock Saints, and watched some 80 dancers jumping and running and skipping through the fields and all moving together as one great big community. The song ended with everyone joining in a massive group hug. It actually brought tears to my eyes.

I came into the weekend feeling anxious -- much like a child going to summer camp -- and walking out feeling full of light, friendship, and laughter. By the last night, delirious from food and sleep depravation, drunk on the camaraderie of so many good people, it was hard to believe that this silly, crazy group of people was actually sober. From singing "In The Jungle" at the top of our lungs to me leaving a human voicemail for Orville while he was in the bathroom to schlopping around as an amoeba, these memorable times were a great way to close out the weekend.

Sticking around on Monday to help with cleanup was worthwhile and rewarding. Heard first-hand that I won 1st and 4th place in the DJ contest (whoo!). Got to drive up with Andrew Sutton, which is always a pleasure. We talked over many topics pertaining to dance, teaching, DJing, etc.

Overall, a positive -- albeit initially anxious -- experience. I look forward to Aspen Blues Recess, which will mark a major transition in my life back to graduate school. Who knows what is to come? You definitely can't go into these events with expectations.

A few weeks ago, I went on a trip with Lauren to visit her family at a vacation spot in North Carolina. The adventure promised to be filled with sun, reading, and good food. I hardly anticipated the clusterf**k of misfortune that would beset me preceding the trip.

It begin with water. And a computer. Specifically, me spilling a half-full Nalgene all over my laptop (purchased only six months ago). Let's just say I'm glad no one was home to hear me. This occurred a mere FOUR HOURS before I was planning to leave for the airport. After a hurried trip to the Mac store, the techie told me that it would either cost nothing or it would cost $1200; either way, we wouldn't know until after I returned from my trip.

Putting that behind me (literally: leaving it at Lauren's place to dry out), we get read to go to the airport. As we're walking out the door, Lauren goes to check the confirmation code. "Huh, that's weird," she says. She's looking at an email from Priceline stating that our reservation has either been changed or canceled by the airline. Deciding that we can best resolve the issue at the airport, we depart.

At the airport, the United agent tells us that our reservation has been canceled.

That's right: canceled. Poof. You spend $800 for two tickets and it still could mean nothing. The flight by that point was booked up so we couldn't leave that day. According to the agent, the reservation had been canceled by Priceline.

The agent was kind enough to set a new route that had us flying out at 6am the following morning. While hardly ideal, it was better than missing the entire vacation.

While that's happening, I take up the customer service battle with Priceline. After spending two hours on the phone listening to an insipid version of Moonriver on repeat, we come to the conclusion that it is not their fault and that I should go talk to United.

Next morning, we get on the plane without a hitch. Phew.

The flights go moderately well, all things considered. Lauren's back causes her real troubles, especially when she has to remain seated for so long. Cross-country trips are abysmal; the flying experience has truly become dehumanizing. It is difficult to maintain faith in humans when you're in a cramped seat suspended in the sky 30,000 ft above the ground.

Now, the last leg of our journey would involve a ferry ride to get onto the island where we were staying. Our plane was scheduled to arrive at 10:00pm, it's about a 30 minute drive to the ferry, and the last ferry leaves at 11pm. No problem, we think.

Well, we did think that until we sat on the tarmac for half an hour, waiting for our final flight to begin. Apparently there was some passenger counting error that caused all kinds of trouble (thank you, FAA) that delayed us considerably.

As soon as the seat belt sign turned off in Wilmington, we were on our feet and running down the aisle to beat everyone to the front of the door. Grabbing our bags, we tear off through the airport. "Can we run, Mommy?" we hear some child ask of her parent ahead of us.
"No, honey."
We pass them with bags jostling.
"Why do they get to, then?"

We make it to the car, the driver thinks that we'll make it there with enough time. Phew! We made it.

Then the winds start.

Then the rains start. We're talking buckets of rain, monsoon style. Oregonians just don't understand the meaning of "heavy rain."

It's dark outside, visibility is low, we're on a small two-lane highway in the middle of nowhere. I'm on the phone with United, talking with a customer service agent about what to do next in investigating the issue. Out of my peripheral vision, I see that my worst fear has just materialized on the edge of the van's high-beams: something big and right in front of us.

Much like Douglas Adam's ill-fated bowl of petunias, I only have time for one thought, "Oh no, not again."

WHAM!

The driver, who had the presence of mind to not swerve and potentially kill us all, had proceeded straight into whatever it was.

In a calm voice, he states, "I think I just hit an alligator."

I notice lights on the dashboard flickering on.

"That was the biggest alligator I've ever seen."

I notice the loud noise coming from below the van as we are now dragging whatever it was below the vehicle. An acrid smell fills the compartment.

"My hands are shaking. My hands just can't stop shaking."

Not stopping, not slowing down, our brave driver just kept going forward because, well, there wasn't much else we could do. There was no room to pull over, we couldn't just stop in the road, and if we did we'd miss the ferry. Who knows if the car would even still be running.

As I struggled to remain calm and continue to converse with the United representative (I had waited for thirty minutes already, dammit), I couldn't help but find hilarity in the chaos of it all. Lauren had taken out the drivers manual to investigate to the dashboard lights to see if there was any catastrophic signals that meant we should pull over immediately no matter what. She had to turn on the interior light, further reducing the visibility already much impaired by the relentless rain and darkness. A continuous, piercing beep was emitting from the car somewhere.

Eventually, whatever-it-was fell away from the undercarriage. We limped our way to the ferry, where we made it with a mere three minutes to spare.

Lauren and I sat mostly in silence on the boat ride. There were no words. We were just trying to process everything that had happened.

We never did find out what the van struck. The driver still believes it was an alligator (in which case, it'd be a 7 ft one). Others -- naturally word got out in such a small town -- speculated that it was a fallen log blocking the road and that we were the unlucky ones to encounter it first.

The trip itself was marvelous and completely removed from the terror of the days preceding it. I had a fantastic time and plowed through Ovid's Metamorphoses.

Oh, and my computer is still okay. Phew.

But I'll never forget this day as a reminder of the shitstorm that can strike for no apparent reason. If you have an uneventful day, I count that as a good day. Sure is important to be grateful that, generally, things do work out in one's favor.

Still waiting to hear back from United on the issue. I sent a detailed email to them a few days ago, so hopefully I'll receive a response from their customer service department soon.

I think upon my experience in Austin with mixed emotions. I came there primarily to compete. By my performance, one would think that I'd be proud of my progress: finalist in Ballroomin' with Karissa, 3rd place in Jookin' with Julie, and a Champions Jack and Jill competitor. Yet I can't shake this thought that I could've done better. Such is the nature of my personality to care more about my performance relative to my potential rather than relative to those around me.

Watching the videos, I pour over every moment and critique my movement. I listen carefully to the judges' feedback, seeking new paths for improvement. (I received some excellent and constructive feedback -- many thanks to Damon, Heidi, and Kathy for their input.)

My spotlight in the Ballroom spotlight flopped. Just knowing I could've done better disappoints me, not matter how we placed relative to others. Karissa and I had worked so hard on refining our dance, running spotlights, preparing for the competition in technique, musicality, creativity, and structure. Then the big moment arrives and my mind draws a blank: I freeze up and stilt the performance. The all-skate went well, at least. Landing in the top six is no small feat, but I am more dissatisfied with myself because I could've done better: even if we somehow landed 1st place, my mind and heart would not be at ease.

The Jook Joint competition went smoother. I had my game face on, we connected and moved well together, and maintained a balanced performance. I was honored to place 3rd in a competition where professional couples go to cut their teeth.

The Champions Jack & Jill went quite well. J&J competitions are always my weak point, so I'm pleased with my progress. I'm working on a lot of issues regarding connection and musicality in the J&J. I tend to dance my partner rather than dance with my partner. Thanks to feedback received from SCBF and through the training weekend, it was clear that I was beginning to address these issues.

Analyzing the videos, I see all these areas that require work. I consider myself fortunate that I have dedicated dance coaches (Barry and Brenda) that guide my progress and show me ways to improve. I value their expertise, experience, and vision, and seek their feedback after every competition.

It can sometimes be difficult to maintain faith in my path. There is so much I don't understand, particularly about their interpretation of Blues dancing. At times, it feels like a terrible detriment: I isolate too much, my walking is stilted, my hips disconnect, my movement is flowery and unsupported, my pulse is still not there, the list goes on and on. I pursue a dance technique that I don't fully comprehend and must maintain faith in The Process. Then I watch Barry and Brenda move and remember why I drill esoteric technique and dance outside my circle of comfort.

The path to great dancing is a process. While there are days that I want to throw it all away and move in a style I understand, I take comfort in knowing that it's the process that makes a better dancer. By challenging yourself to tackle the unknown, you come out better for it. I appreciate the structure provided by training with Barry and Brenda, for the concrete ways in which I can refine my dance, for the inspiration I draw from watching them move. I trust in my coaches to steer me in the right direction. I aspire to the way they dance.

Sometimes I wonder why I do it. Why I invest thousands of dollars in my training with no plan to make dance my source for gainful employment. I don't have an exact answer yet; all I know is that it is something I must do. I am so compelled to strive for the best in my dance, not matter the cost. Such are the nature of passions, I suppose.

In the meantime, I need to get my ass in gear and work harder on my dance. The past three weeks were intense, but I should sustain this energy to continue training. There are so many issues to work on, and in many ways this excites me. I am headed in the right direction -- I've received feedback from enough people to know that in my heart -- but it's not close to being there yet. You can never be perfect in dance, never reach 100%, but I'd love to hit a solid 80%.

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On a side note, I am so glad I stayed Monday night in Austin. We went out to TC's Lounge, a small Jook joint with superb live music. The energy in the room, the driving music, the right amount of alcohol, the sweat and bodies crowded together and pulse of the room, it kept me dancing all night long. I just couldn't stop moving. It was inspirational: I was transported to a time when this is what you'd do every night for fun. Good times and good Blues. What a way to release all this energy from the weekend and bring close my time in Austin.

The experience reminds me of this passage from "Jazz," by Toni Morrison. I will bring this post to a close with it as a parting gift to your imagination.

"Before the lights are turned out, and before the sandwiches and spiked soda water disappear, the one managing the record player chooses fast music suitable for the brightly lit room, where obstructing furniture has been shoved against walls, pushed into the hallway, and into bedrooms piled high with coats. Under the ceiling light pairs move like twins born with, if not for, the other, sharing the partner's pulse like a second jugular. They believe they know before the music does what their hands, their feet are to do, but that illusion is the music's secret drive: the control it tricks them into believing is theirs; the anticipation it anticipates. In between record changes, while the girls fan blouse necks to air damp collarbones or pat with anxious hands damage moisture has done to their hair, the boys press folded handkerchiefs to their foreheads. Laughter covers indiscreet glances of welcome and promise, and takes the edge of gestures of betrayal and abandon."  - page 64 and 65.

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of dancing to prepare for the bluesSHOUT! competitions. I compete with Karissa in the Ballroomin' strictly and with Julie in the Jookin' strictly.

Since Karissa and I now have a reputation and most judges know how we've danced previously, we worked our asses off to step it up another notch. A lot of other competitors are doing the same. So, for the past three weekends, we've tried to come together as a partnership after four months of not seeing each other while simultaneously refining our technique, presentation, and musicality.

Aaaaand… go.

We started off with two hours of private lessons on the previous Sunday (April 4th). That got us thinking about a lot of material. It was not easy to start off a private with Brenda and have her critique our partnership when we literally hadn't danced together in four months. The lessons yielded important critiques of our dancing and direction for where we go next.

Last weekend we attended a competition and performance retreat with Barry Douglas and Brenda Russell. Always a valuable experience, this intensive training had us dancing ten hours a day for four days. We would run J&J and Strictly comps every day, mixed with technical work. By the end, I felt like I couldn't dance. Also, that I couldn't move for my body being so sore. My head exploded several times throughout the weekend. But it always feels so good a couple days later.

I traveled up to Seattle on Tuesday to practice more with Karissa. This was a good idea because it allowed us to review what we learned and assimilate the data into our dancing. Now we're feeling solid, connected, grounded, and looking sharp.

I am excited for this weekend at bluesSHOUT! The competitions were a big reason for me to come out to the event. Social dancing, seeing lovely people, and teaching private lessons are great, but I'm especially ramped up about the comps. I think they're going to be a blast and they have been a real inspiration to me to work on my dancing.

I've come to realize that one of the reasons for competitions are to inspire and challenge the competitors. It's a great way to push yourself and to receive feedback from others on your current level of dancing. They are also always inspiring to watch. It excites me that the Blues community has continued to evolve and develop a more thorough understanding of the dance.