Pep talk

Headspace is a little scrambled right now.

Emergency medicine has been keeping me busy lately, but after work I get home and bash my head against metaphorical brick walls in the vain hope of creating 'music'. Eventually some bricks fall together in not-horrible ways and I sit, slightly satisfied that I've got a nice beat track. The only problem is that that brief euphoria dissipates when I realize I've got no melody, no lyrics to drape over it, i.e. no *song*. I sit there, struggling to be inspired by myself.

Not dissimilar to my current social situation, really. Struggling to be inspired by myself.

I've been going to salsa classes recently after my mate invited me along. I figured it'd be fun, and a good chance to meet new people outside of medicine.

So I'm there and somehow manage to score a dance with a cute little asian girl who is all the more cute for being able to dance. I, unfortunately, am not blessed likewise, in either category, and the combination of trying to make conversation and dance at the same time renders neither functional.

The music stops and it's been such a poor showing that I don't even bother trying to offer her a drink. There's an awkward moment and we walk off in opposite directions.

I told my friend esme about this and she laughed (it *was* funny in an awkward-Jason-Biggs-having-sex-with-an-apple-pie way) but when she said, "the picture of a deflated Dave is getting familiar" I thought Things Really Need to Change.

Both my salsa mate and a new acquaintance told me this last week that the power lies in positive thinking - in not taking these hits personally and staying positive in of myself.

Struggling to be inspired by myself.

I do, however, remain surprised by my ability to jump headlong into a situation in which I'm completely out of my depth. Last night I tried to ask out a gorgeous eurasian waitress (degree of difficulty - 5.0) and to cut a long story short, my opening salvo was,

"Hi, can I have two Jack and Cokes?" - trying to flash the most cute smile I can muster, although it probably looked like a grotesque cubist painting...and the dismount, an hour or two later -

Trying to beat the Last Call for Alcohol, I front up to the bar, hoping to catch her again, I get hit by a different waitress who says,

"Sorry, we're closing."

I've come too far. I have to dig deep.

"Um, I just came up to ask her" I point, "to coffee." (EMBARASSING!)

"Well, she just started her, maybe you could ask her another time?"

What? I can't get stopped by that. I'm committed. I'm Jerry Maguire with the memo.

"Uh, look, could you just, please?"

She asks the girl over. My heart is about to rupture in about ten different ways and so out comes,

"Uh, hi, I'm Dave...I just, actually, um, came to...

"...to like see if, to ask you..."

"to coffee."

She smiled, (I think), but said

"Sorry, I have a long term boyfriend."

Somehow I manage to apologize and leave, despite my legs feeling like an amorphous blob of caffeine and energy.

The upshot of this all, is that, despite being deflated Dave yet again, I have to thank the sympathetic nervous system for reminding me how it feels to be alive.

But, of course, being far too self-analytical, I know there are a multitude of ways that that scenario could have been run better, smoother, flirtier.

Honestly though, I'm scared of smoother, flirtier. Why? Where is that line between smooth and flirty, and sleazy? I've talked to a couple of different people about this lately. I open it up to public forum.

Go. Inspire me. Struggling to be inspired by myself.