Running and Mayans

With seven weeks to finish up the semester and a feeling of
floundering, with this Saturday's breathing and stretching workshop
for a conference I know nothing about, with my NaNoWriMo 'novel' a
jumble of words disguising a plot, conflict, and compelling
characters, and with my feeling of stagnation in my life, I escaped
to my local park to run. Running seems to call me when my life is
on the brink of transformation or when I am trying to instigate
change. As if the act of running will get me where i am going or
think I need to be faster, though I still do not' know where that
is. Or, at times, it is Gump-like running, running from the
suffocation of feelings -- anger, pain, confusion -- when I can't
sit and meditate . . . only running seems to work. The pushing, the
speed (not that I am a fast runner by any means, really my running is
like fast walking), the sense of moving somewhere else . .. running
is my transitional tool.

I also rediscovered the catharsis of dancing to throbbing,
earsplitting music in a warehouse full of strangers. A nice
warehouse, with Mayan themed pillars and walls, perhaps an allusion
to mythic Mayan rituals of dance and trance? Moreover, at my age,
there to hang with Nandizzle, I don't give a damn at my age what
anyone thinks of my dancing. The men were mostly unappealing, the
kind who watch life from the sidelines and ogle the ones who are
taking life and celebrating (that is, girls dancing, guys lingering
on the fringes). The only flirting I was interested in was with
Nandizzle, mostly to keep the natives at bay:

Creepy guy: Wanna dance
Me: No
CG: Are you sure
Me: Yeah, I'm with her ( I really just meant that I wanted to just
hang with my friend, but along with the fellow fringe, his mind was
in the gutter)
CG: Oh (Gives me creepy look)

About five minutes later, CG asks Nandizzle to dance. Thankfully,
she gave him the same answer. Think he was testing me? Seriously,
move on, dude, and don't hit on my girl!
By the end of the evening, all the music rooms sounded alike in each
of the genred rooms. That was when we left. My only complaint was
the lack of an 80's room.

Top off the weekend with Nandizzle's party from Thursday evening,
which always brings plenty of opportunities for both intelligent
conversation sprinkled with flirtations enhanced by a delicious
recreation of my sangria recipe, I wonder if I could tolerate LA for
two more years while I get my masters degree.