Monday, September 05, 2005


On Friday night Victoria and I went to a houseparty with Mehdi. It was great. His friends were tons of fun (like Alicia talked me and several others into playing Twister), the apartment was great (rooftop included), the drinks were flowing (two girls showed me their bare nipples all Girls Gone Wild style), and we had like a 7 to 3 ratio of hot to not hot. As Mehdi's departure date gets closer, I am thinking more about temporality.

By temporality I don't mean items that might belong in a temple or belong to a priest, though Mehdi is quite divine, but that I've noticed just how temporary everything is. The expat community rotates is somewhat like the gyro swing at Lotte World--round and round and up and down. People are here for a limited amount of time, and then they go off to another world, their previous world, or disappear all together. Their existence is removed quickly, their apartments are filled with new tenants, their classes are replaced with a new foreign face, and their pictures are removed from the wall. Within a week all is changed like they were never really here at all. You wish them well and move on to new friends. Everyone is walking around with an expiration date passing their junk from one person to the next in line. Strange... so temporary.

It sounds kind of depressing think of it all like this. However, on the brighter side, when life hurts I can remind myself that this is just temporary, and when it's great I can remind myself that it's just temporary and I better just enjoy it now, instead of later.

Anyway, I digress a bit. The point of this post was to talk about how much pain I am in right now, but I had to back up a bit before I got to it. Physical pain. I-can-hardly-walk-up-the-stairs pain. Alicia is a dancer. FABULOUS! I haven't danced in years, but it used to be my world. I've missed it so much too. So when she invited me to go to a class on Sunday with her of course I accepted.

I prepared myself mentally, telling myself that it was going to be difficult and my body wasn't going to do what it was once able to do when I was like 17. At 17 every movement was full of grace. Simple actions, like drinking a cup of tea or putting on a pair of pants, were filled with choreography worth admiration. Everything was a dance. At 18, I herniated a disk in my back and was told I had scoliosis. So, I took it easy, but figured maybe I could get back into it later when I wasn't so busy with school. At 26, in a dance class in Apujung, I thought it was time to get back into it... instead, I was stumbling over myself, a total fumbling, struggling mess. And now, at this moment, I'm an old old old woman. I feel every muscle in my body.

Mid-class I changed in the dressing room, my entire body shaking uncontrollably, and I bursted into tears. This was a marker of change. An indication that time had rolled past me. This was no longer the self I knew. I WAS A DANCER.

Stretching through the aches on the floor of my apartment I remind myself... that luckily this too is temporary.

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