Follow Me Follow

When I’m not doing uni work, or my day job, or procrastinating working on Sigyn, I can sometimes be found wearing fancy shoes and jumping up and down in a room above a pub. In short, I’m a lindy hopper.

00-Cosè-il-Lindy-Hop-423x600

Yeah, I do this sort of thing ALL the time. (In my mind).

I’ve been dancing for about two years now. I got into lindy because I loved the music, the fashion, and the fact that you don’t have to stare soulfully into your partner’s eyes or pretend that you’re salivating with lust. The undertones of lindy and other swing dances are less “this is a beautiful expression of romance” and more “this music is fun, let’s bounce around!” Plus, you can’t beat a dance that lets you pretend be a grizzly bear.

I would not, by any stretch of the imagination, say I’m a talented dancer. So far in my lindy career, I’ve elbowed people in the face, been unable to shake my habit of taking REALLY GIANT STEPS, and, during one memorable workshop, fallen on my bum after both of my legs decided to do a kick at the same time. But, what I lack in talent, musicality, and basic co-ordination, I make up for in enthusiasm. I really love lindy, and after two years, some bits of it are finally starting to gel together.

I dance as a follow (lindy is a partner dance, so you have a follow and a lead. Traditionally, the lead is a man and the follow is a woman, but my lindy group is pretty awesome, and we have a mix of people dancing both roles). I picked follow because of the above-mentioned lack of co-ordination; I have a horrible feeling that if I tried to lead, I’d live the backstory of a movie cop and be responsible for the death of my partner. And I don’t really have time for a gritty journey to redemption.

Not that being a follow is easy. In a way, it’s just as difficult as leading, because you have to switch off the part of your brain that anticipates…well, anything. You can’t plan your movements, you have to react to your lead – and for an overplanner like me, that’s a challenge.

Following is a bit like meditation for me, in that it forces me to stop this overplanning, and instead focus on the present – like mindfulness, with a better beat. Unfortunately, it also ends up making me feel a little guilty, because ‘Ally being a good follow’ is sometimes indistinguishable from ‘Ally being a contrary arse’. “Oh, you wanted me to be over there? Sorry, I didn’t feel like you actually wanted me to be over there. Nah, I’m going to stay over here, thanks. And maybe pretend to be a grizzly bear.”

Still, I haven’t elbowed anyone in the face for a really long time. Progress!

 

 

Advertisements

About Alice Nuttall

Alice Nuttall is a caffeine-guzzling knitter who divides her time between Oxford and the various worlds in her head. She is the author of a YA fantasy novel, Spider Circus, and three webcomics, Footloose, Cherry, and Black Market Magic, as well as several short stories.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s