Dancing With Myself: What life without a partner has taught me.

It takes two to tango. Anybody who is anybody has heard that saying before. And you know what? It's damned true.

In a sense.

Anyone that knows me knows that dance is a major part of my life. When the music comes on and I can hear the rhythm, I can feel it, and suddenly I just have to move. I choreograph when I shower, when I drive, when I clean, when I cook, walk to class. Sitting in frame for a job interview, in class. These things just happen.

But for those of you that know me even better, you will know the struggle I've had with ballroom: I've been partnerless for nearly two years. That's a problem.

Dancing by myself in the corner, in front of a mirror, working on the same damned thing over and over and over again until I can't feel my toes or the balls of my feet. This has been my life for two years. Perfecting (or trying to perfect) technique, adjusting frame.

I've learned three things:

1. You can improve alone.
2. You can only get so far.
3. You can love yourself and what you do.

This sounds really cheesy, but I promise it's the truth.

First of all, working on everything alone gives you time to focus on yourself. You have all the time in the world: You don't need to coordinate schedules with a partner that doesn't lose as much sleep as you do. You can just work on your own time wherever you feel like it. And if you have some sort of instruction, with practice comes achievement. Muscle memory exists and so does improvement. Add this to the fact you never have a consistent partner (if you find anyone to dance just one dance with at all). This honestly can be a good thing. Why? You become a good follow. You don't get too comfortable with one lead. You don't get to back lead, you don't get to learn all of the stupid quirks that a partner might come with. You just have to follow, and that makes you a better listener.

However. Yeah, you can improve. You can learn to watch other couples, watch the pros, watch those better than you. You can even pick up on moves that are completely beyond your skill level. You can choreograph spectacular routines. But dancing alone doesn't allow you to learn the leads attached to certain steps. It doesn't allow you to perform them, in frame, over and over again to get consistency with a partner. And, if you're a follow, your floor craft will obviously be nonexistent. Do you know how hard it is to look over your shoulder but also stay in frame while you try to practice tango? Impossible.

Finally.

When you're stuck doing something alone every single day and that happens to be something that you love to do, you can get frustrated. You can be moved to tears at the idea that you will never get to dance again, that you will never be able to get up at five in the morning to do your hair and makeup, only to compete all day and lose your breath, as mad as that may sound. You will lose faith in the very thing that you love. But if you remain persistent, if you continue to work by yourself, you will gain confidence in your improvements. You will fall in love with dance, fall in love with your achievements. You will know that it was all your doing, even if you never get to show off that choreographed routine that you absolutely love.

But more importantly you will love yourself.

People fall in love with their dance partners a lot. It's happened. Spending so much time with your partner, it's bound to happen. But you get to spend time with yourself. You get to evaluate your priorities, you get to admire those sexy ass legs of yours, you get to push yourself as much as you want to push. You get to be you.

As someone that seems to be perpetually single and forever ballroom partnerless, I get to spend a lot of time with myself. And I get to fall in love with who I am and what I choose to pursue. And it's made me a happier person.

How to photograph drunk college students

1. Find yourself a nice camera with an attachable flash. You could probably use the one that comes standard on most cameras, the ones that pop up, but they overexpose photos -- read: make them look bad. If you’re serious about photographing anything, especially drunk students, spending upwards of 400 dollars on a legitimate flash is completely worth it. Although don’t lose it, it might freak you out for a few days and make you really sick to your stomach at the thought of having to buy a new one off of eBay.
2. If you have questions on flash, look for a different tutorial.
3. Make sure the batteries in the flash are charged, haven’t started leaking, haven’t exploded, and are in the right way. 
4. Keep a spare pack, just in case.
5. Go to a bar. 
6. Attach your lens and snap away. The photos might be a little posed, drunk people like to pose. If you’re just looking for experience then this will be completely fine. If you’re working to get a photojournalistic shot, try taking a step back.
7. Stalk the shit out of people.
8. They will still probably pose for you and ask you to take the photos of them doing strange things.
9. Don’t wear long black trench coats or stare at someone too long. 
10. Talk to the people you’re taking pictures of, otherwise they might think you’re a stalker. 
11. If you, like me, work for a newspaper that requires names attached to all of the people in the photos, you have to talk to them anyway. 
12. If you don’t work for a newspaper and want to take  pictures of people drinking in bars, find a new hobby.
13. Drunk students may give you names that aren’t real. You should be able to tell right away, but sometimes these things might slip over your head. 
14. “Tom Clancy” and “Max Power,” are probably fake names.
15. They may also say they are from another country.
16. Trust no one.
17. If someone asks to see a photo, do not let them. They will complain about how ugly they look. 
18. Bring ear plugs.
19. Attempt to hold onto your sanity. It will probably fade very quickly. Drunk college students are annoying.
20. Pray