Putting on my dancing shoes

June 22, 2007

My feet are pretty wimpy. They can’t handle any other kinds of shoes but sneakers and flip flops (oh yeah, and John Fluevogs, but who can afford that unless you’re a middle class kid buying to spite your parents like I did in high school). High heels, no way. I’ve always had an aversion o them. I come from a continent where women were forced to bind their feet for beauty standards. We’ve moved from being physically forced to suffering for the sake of beauty to believing it ourselves that we should do certain things in order for other people to find us attractive. I ain’t going to subject myself to pain, discomfort, and limited mobility so someone else will think I look good. I’m sorry but I look good when I’m comfortable. However, I’m not trying to say that if you wear high heels or something you’re falling into the patriarchal trap, or that dressing normatively makes you not a feminist. How you dress is your choice. It’s totally valid if that’s your aesthetic and what makes you feel attractive. If it makes you feel good to dress like that go ahead. For some people, stilletos represent hot looking shoes, and when I think of them I think of PAIN! Wearing those kind of shoes is simply something that’s not for me. However, even flats can hurt my feet. I get like blisters sometimes, or there isn’t enough arch support, which i guess would be how it’s like to wear converse all stars. for some reason when those shoes first became really trendy I couldn’t by them (I don’t know why), but when I was able to get them on my own, they were bought by Nike so I didn’t want to buy them anymore. However, maybe it’s good that way because I need a freakish amount of support, like what I get from my Saucony’s….as the saleslady told me it’s like clouds below your feet (except not really, but I wanted to write that)

But….that’s just a rant. What I was really going to talk about was my night last night. I had dinner with some old friends from high school, Marisa and Tanya, Marisa’s friend Sabrina who’ve I hung out with before, and Marisa’s friend from Brown. We ate at this pricey Italian restaurant, where I, along with three others at the table, ordered gnocci with rabbit. It was quite tasty, the rabbit was just like chicken! I was the first to order, and when everyone else ordered I had this really strong impulse to change my order. This is a weird tic I have. I don’t like ordering the same thing as other people, especially if everyone else ordered it. It’s not just be trying to be non-conformist, it’s more my approach to food as a social activity. I’m all about food sharing, and getting to know different types of dishes. If everyone orders the same thing, when you look around the table it’s pretty boring. It’s more fun if everyone as different stuff and you can share and try. That’s also why I have this other neurotic tic, where I get annoyed when people go to Asian restaurants and not order family style, because family style is how it’s supposed like! I guess these tics come from how I grew up eating out with my family, where it’ll be these big family style dinners where everyone orders different stuff and we share and it’s really yummy and fun. Oh well.

After that we went bar hopping in the Castro. At one of the bars it was supposed to be Fratboy night, where we saw few frat boys, and few college-aged men in general. Later on, we went dancing at Badlands. There were all these screens that played music videos. A lot of the music was like random European techno divas like Sophie Ellis Bextor, which was fun-ish (but got old after awhile). They also played techno remixes of fun top-40 songs like Pussycat Dolls and Rihanna. I had a lot more fun than I thought I was going to. It was like remembering a part of me that I had long forgotten (not that long forgotten though). Dancing was a substantial part of my time in Pomona, from late night dance parties in my room to eighties music, to parties like Harwood Hollywood and going clubbing to places like Jewel’s Catch-One. But most of all, especially this year, I think of dancing at our L parties, blasting R Kelly, Ginuwine and Patrick Wolfe. I haven’t been dancing since being at Claremont so being at Badlands reminded me of that.

The next day I got to pretend to be a gourmet for awhile. My friend needed to go to this cheese shop and buy a cheese plate for her mom’s dinner party that night. We went there and there were all these cheeses I had no idea existed and cost more than what I could afford for a week’s worth of dinners. Anyways, when my friend asked the person working there about suggestions and that woman grilled us for the details. Is it before, during or after the meal, and what time of the day will you be eating, what will be the beverages, what will be the main course, etc. etc. Man, totally a way of thinking that is not part of my world at all. I’m just like “Cheese? Yum. Get in my belly.” The fun part was that the lady would suggest cheeses and me and my friend were able to sample it. I never really thought about eating food critically, but I had a great time nibbling things thoughtfully, pausing for a moment, and saying stuff like “i like the texture”. My family’s not really the most appreciative of the fancy cheese plate, and I don’t think my future holds much of a budget where a lifestyle of fancy cheese plates is possible, so I had a blast pretending for a moment. I’m tempted to go back and just tell that lady I need to assemble some cheeses for something, try those cheeses and then leave, however I think you actually have to buy something if you make the employees go through all that…oh well…

I did end up buying a small chunk of blue cheese that is delicious. I don’t know why, I really like things with strong flavors, so I’ve developed a taste for these moldy cheeses. I also really like gorgonzola and goat cheese (goat cheese is not moldy but it does have a strong taste). I want to try Roquefort. When I did a homestay in France, my host dad gave me some roquefort and I was hesitant to try it because it looked moldy. However, I tried it anyway because I always try new things and I thought it was gross….because it tasted exactly how it looked: moldy. But maybe I would like it now that i’m old (which rhymes with mold)…


2 Responses to “Putting on my dancing shoes”

  1. Francesca said

    I would be content with a good-sized brick of medium sharp cheddar. Mmm. Haha, Sefa once told me to go to a caterer’s with Uriel and just say that we wanted to sample dishes for our wedding – and that they’d just feed us all this food. Advice from his own youth, you know? Glad you got to dance. I’ve been facing a definite lack of dancing in my own life lately. Sadness.

  2. sophia said

    hi on2. sorry i missed you and laurie. i completely forgot. i think time moves..like..differently. when i’m home. perhaps i fell asleep. also, i misplaced my phone. i didn’t lose it, i just misplaced it yesterday. so anyway…that’s all. see you saturday or monday.


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