Hobbles and Sneezes

    My new nickname today is Hobbles. Jesse keeps making fun of me through his congested nose as he sits in a cloud of his own tissues. He's sick but gets entertainment by laughing at me and coming up with names this morning--- the only way I can get around is by walking on my heels with my toes stuck in the air and at turtle speed. Every muscle in my legs and torso clench with every step, warning me not to take another one. I have to give it to him, it is pretty hilarious. If only it wasn't so freakin' painful.

    We finally made it through a sea of cars, a maze of highways and side streets to EDGE Performing Arts Center in Hollywood, California yesterday. We got lost a few times but managed to get there with ten minutes to spare before the class I wanted to take started. I registered and got a 3-class Class Card before walking right into the studio. It had brick walls on two sides, a mirror in the front, and a windowed wall for observers. The back wall had one window and through it sat the famous Hollywood sign up in the distant mountains. How awesome is this?!? I had no idea who the teacher was until he started the music and began to move, leading us into a friendly warm-up for my now unfamiliar body. It all came back rather quickly. My body just knew what to do and by the time the class was over it felt like no time had passed. It also helped that Jesse was peering through the window every once in a while. My favorite things all converging into a string of moments. A happy girl.
     The routine we learned was pretty aerobic and my bare feet went through some battles with the floor. By the last run-through I felt a ripping sensation under my right big toe, and then the left. When I limped over to the side of the room I realized my toes were begging me to stop as the skin underneath each one was barely hanging on. Ouch. Then I felt a rush of heat and the room spun a little bit. Even though I only ate a banana before class I could feel it bubbling it's way up. No. Not here. I can't puke in my very first dance class in LA. Suddenly, I had to run out of that room. More air. Phew! We were finally done. I hobbled out of the room, sat down, asked Jesse for band aids and to fill up my water bottle. I was drained. He was so helpful. We staggered back to my car and just sat for a minute while I took it all in. I'm back in the dance scene. Big smile. 

Just a few people, a mirror and some music

     In one hour, we'll be making the one hour journey up to West Hollywood to go to EDGE Performing Arts Studio. My nerves are strangling me. I haven't danced since May and it's a bit scary to jump back into it with professionals. And then it hits me- I'm a professional! In my mind, I've been a professional since I hit the stage at 5 years old. It's the one thing I always wrote in elementary school yearbooks after "when I grow up I want to be_____". So I've been pacing, drinking coffee, trying to eat and tell myself that I'll be fine; I've done this my whole life. Like speaking in English or brushing my teeth. I know how to do this. Right? I hope so.
     To motivate me and pass the time this morning, I continued reading this book called "Think and Grow Rich" by Napoleon Hill. It's a pretty famous motivational book that Jesse had and I decided it would help me get out of my financial rut and dance rut. I came across this: "Your imaginative faculty may have become weak through inaction. It can be revived and made alert through use. This faculty does not die." Thanks, Napoleon. That's just what I needed to be reminded of. No time for pondering the what ifs; only time to act and go from there. 

     Wake up to the sound of my phone ringing. That's odd. It's already after 12pm. Jesse's calling from the east coast. He's just getting up too..... Now I don't feel so bad. 

     He left two days ago for Martha's Vineyard to support his Mom and sister, Randi, in opening up their store. They collaborate in fashion design and have awesome clothes. Jesse and I were in their fashion show at the end of last summer and they did an incredible job. Think hippie chic. I love it.

     We get off the phone and I look around. We live here now. A one bedroom apartment in Newport Beach, California. My zip code starts with a 9. It's still sinking in. I spend a few minutes wondering how long it will be before we get back to a normal routine. Then I wonder how long it will be before I accept the fact that we have many abnormal times ahead and having a routine just isn't our MO. Big exhale. And a thoughtful smile. I like this moment. 

     I'm alone for what feels like the first time in a decade. The empty space and I are still strangers but we're both completely comfortable. It's that moment you meet someone and know you'll still be friends a few years from now. This apartment is definitely getting there. We have plants and warm lighting. A supportive and cozy couch. A balcony as big as our whole place. It's just right for our "here and now". 

     Poker is my job right now. Pretty weird to write that but it's true. We leave for Florida the week before Christmas, I go to Austin TX the first week of January to dance with Charles, and Australia  is at the end of January-beginning of February. What's the point of getting a job only to quit in 2 weeks? The reality is, I don't mind having these excuses to keep trying at poker. I'm too competitive to just quit. The allure of poker players' flexible lifestyles is too attractive to me. (Especially since that means I can take dance classes anytime I want and work with dance companies whenever they need me!) Yes, continuing to work a normal poor-college-kid job like I have been just isn't for me. Poker is an exciting challenge and I'm taking it on. 

     Yesterday I went to the Hawiian Gardens Casino, a casino 20 minutes from here in LA. It was completely different than what I imagined. No I.D. checks. A million people crammed in a room with poker tables one on top of the other. It was a zoo. A charming zoo. Well, I drove this far- might as well sit down and try it out. Played for 11 hours straight. The guys at my table were hilarious and none of us wanted to leave. They kept making fun of me at first for being so quiet. "Wow, can you teach my wife to talk as much as you do?" Laughter. Lots of action at the table. Most active guy at the table tries to bluff me off a full house for 3 streets and I instantly double up. SWEET. All with good food and lots of diet coke. This isn't so bad after all. I think I'm gonna like being a dancer/poker player. Dancer & Professional Poker Player.

What an eyebrow-raiser. I'll get started on some business cards....