39. Back Up

I’m back.

In my failure to literally back-up my 10-year-old Dell, I lost a few things, a few memories. But I’m learning to let go and continue in life. I have a  new speedy little laptop finally.

My mind ignites once again in the night. This post doesn’t have any deep purpose–nothing too intellectual to add about dance–other than to acknowledge that I’ve been absent from here.

Between archival work, applying for grad school followed by waiting for grad school decisions, and freelancing as sparingly as possible sans laptop–I’m a bit worn thin. I haven’t lost my head yet though. SDHS deadline is coming up. I’ve got a long beholden research project in mind that might actually come to life finally.

I’m going to be more active here.

And I’m going to not pretend that I can take classes consistently atm. Every one has their own set of New Year’s goals. I’m just trying to stay above water, breathing from my nose and mouth. Frantically paddling along. I’ve lost a lot of what I once had physically. But that’s okay. That’s the reality for so many irl dance majors.

I’ve been harsh to those who reached this realization in their lives years before me. Yet, I wish I had someone here to push me along, reaching out with some added encouragement to get back into the studio, play around with movement, fear no evil from this changing world.

I missed the Gaga weekend from Dance Month at the Kaplan here in Houston a few weekends ago. As well as other Dance Month events I did seriously plan for. But missing a Gaga/Dancers session really hurt. It’s the movement of my spirit.

I missed a lot of Ballet in Cinema performances–Bolshoi and Royal both. But I’m determined to see Woolf Works on the 8th.

I haven’t even seen La-La Land, though that one isn’t exactly my priority right now. Cause musical theater doesn’t turn me on anymore.

These missed moments in my life are things I have to keep in mind.

That doesn’t mean that I haven’t been active in my pursuit for dance across the world though. We’ve got the Internet to bless.

AyaBambi, for instance, are my queens.

Their sensuous creative presence in the music, fashion, dance, and art worlds is something I’ve always adored from young artists. They’re also LGBTQIA warriors, and I’d give anything to listen to their stories, their unique narratives in this moment in life.


I’m reading Rosemary Candelario’s Eiko&Koma book, Flowers Cracking Concrete. I don’t want it to end. I can’t continue reading it without feeling a sense of dread for the end.

Even if it is quite dense, Rosemary’s writing is critical and creative enough to warrant multiple return reads. A dance book like this reminds me why I want to write and how I can continue to write. Her style inspires me, and Eiko&Koma’s gentle collaboration with her in this book makes me excited for my own future. To document the narratives of artists of such majestic qualities and fearless attitudes would be my dream.

And, obviously, I must get to NY to see them in person, experience their world of dance and nature.


Real talk: I’m trying to come to terms with this wave of Asian veneration, gained from before my Japan trip last year but not realized during my high school years. I admit my love for each Asian culture and quality, generously fueled by each artist I learn about who’s creating from within and outside some many beautiful, intangible countries that I can hardly even afford to see in person. And trust me–this interest isn’t insincere or momentary or weeaboo induced.

I’m embracing this genuine journey into art at this moment, for however long it lasts.

Just like I did with my journey into my roots of Spanish dance while at TXST and modern dance pioneers in community college. And my study in South-Asian dance throughout high school and beyond. And before that with total focus on early European dance, drenching my soul in ballet’s glittery glamor.

It’s all connective tissue to me.

So I’m not apologizing for this intellectual and creative fascination any more than I’d apologize for my previous research. Nor should you. In whatever study you’re immersed in at this very moment, don’t apologize for researching with passion and fury.

Knowledge is the key to everything we have as human beings. And love for the arts keep us moving.

Into the past, present, and future.


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