Jul
Invocation and Ritual Dance of the Young Pumpkin
Torchwood: Children of Earth, which is the name of the third "season" currently showing; yes, yes, it's tosh, but it's entertaining tosh.
I hesitate to describe any of the plot, both realistic and ludicrous, out of deference to those of you outside the UK who won't want any spoilers whatsoever, but suffice to say that despite several "oh my sodding aunt, what the smeggin' nora were they thinking?", with two parts in and three parts to go I'm certainly not going anywhere over the next few nights.
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Which may not be true of Saturday night, as I've been invited to a Ceilidh.
No, no, a Ceilidh, not a Kayleigh.1
I've actually spent thirty-seven years on the planet never actually having been to one, and I've no idea what actually happens or what you do or how you dance, beyond what I've just read on wikipedia.
Thanks to that unique blend of adult-to-teenager patronization and gender trench warfare, the Youth Club Disco2, I've spent my whole life trying to avoid all forms of dancing wherever possible; quite successfully up until now.
With one possible exception….
…the very idea of "social dancing" rests as easy with me as it would with, say, Douglas Bader3. Add the stereotype-Irish predilection for alcohol in there and you can see that it may not exactly present itself as quite my "thing".
Which, perversely, is why I want to go. Partly in terms of anthropology -
"When a real anthropologist goes out to study a tribe, he has to 'put the grass skirt on' and really go for it. For me, wandering around the Mudd Club was like that. And so was working with a symphony orchestra."
[Frank Zappa, "The Real Frank Zappa Book"]
…and partly just so I can say I've done it.
For frog's sake, it might even be that, Heaven Frogging Forbid, the sulky semi-gothy teenager in me goes away for a few hours and I actually, y'know, enjoy myself or something.
…not that I'm putting any money on it, you understand…
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So, Today's Big Question: What would you like to do, as much to "get it out of the way" as anything else? What activity which filled you with teenage horror would you want to revisit to see if it's still just as bad?
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shoenotes:
1 The other Fish's finest moment, in terms of a hit single; and which got stuck in my head after the breakup of my apparently-very-serious teenage relationship with Caroline, at which point I spent weeks drunkenly singing it as "Carrie, is it too late to say I'm sorry…". Shoot me now, someone?
2 Some of the history of which is connected with shoenote #1. See my forthcoming autobiography, "Squirrels Only Wear Gingham On Tuesdays" [not coming soon to a publisher near you].
3 I should explain that this UK cultural reference is to Group Captain Bader, famous for having lost both his legs during World War II, and now generic cultural shorthand for paraplegia. However much of a hero he was, given his later vocal support for the white-supremacist apartheid and Rhodesian regimes, along with personal anecdotes I've heard about his "inspirational" counselling to other physically disabled people [along the "get up and walk, you bastards" kind of line] I deem it "fair game".
July 7th, 2009 at 23:58
It has been said that dancing is a bit like sex, which is sort of true if that means it works best for me when done alone and without strict routines and expectations attached. Ahem.
Seriously, I can do normal thrashing-about-in-a-warehouse/indie-disco sort of dancing perfectly happily, but introduce a partner or any sort of coordinated element at all into the thing and it's dyspraxic lead-balloon time. Which is probably why I doubly commend your bravery for doing the Ceilidh. Good luck and enjoy.
Teenage activity I want to revisit to confirm its awfulness? You can take your pick from netball, ballroom dancing, geometry, science, Resistant Materials (that's "woodwork and metalwork" to you) and French grammar…
July 8th, 2009 at 11:24
I don't want to revisit anything thanks. I'm confident in my assertions that they were awful. But I'll join Max in the netball court. Though I will come armed with a face protector like they have in American football, my considerable foreshortened depth perception and heavy netballs do not a happy nose make.
July 8th, 2009 at 11:27
I don't think I'd know how to dance at all in that situation. Although I used to love dancing to musicals (I was a fan of A Chorus Line at an unsuitably young age; cue much shushing by Mum as I innocently sang that song that involves gonhorrea while getting ready for school one day) when I was a primary school kid, and we had a school disco when I was about eight for which I entered the dancing contest, I missed the whole clubbing phase of teenagerhood altogether.
But I daresay I'll have to brave dancing sooner or later, since we're going to a friend's wedding in October and I understand that wedding receptions involve dancing somehow or other.
July 8th, 2009 at 16:32
Why would anyone in their right mind want to revisit their greatest fears? Tickets are booked by the way…am actually just "grooming" you for the real goal, flamenco!!!
July 8th, 2009 at 17:44
Not their greatest fears, Paula, just things they were grumpy about, to see if it was that which made them grumpy or whether they were just generally grumpy.
I'll do Flamenco if you do "Natya".
July 8th, 2009 at 21:20
I would like to get tomorrow out of the way. Just for the number, although I must remember that age is just a number and no more.
What would I like to revisit? Errrrrrrr, German and maths lessons (two things I was totally and utterly useless at), and possibly an average day at school, just to see how my classmates really did act around me.