Thursday, June 10, 2010

Dance Dance Dance Till You're Dead

First off, I will give an imaginary dollar to whoever correctly guesses what song that is from without googling it or using some outside reference. With that being said, there isn't much structure to this post apart from a mind burp of opinion while I dance around. Yes I am currently sitting down, but I was dancing to the prior mentioned song three minutes ago in my office. Yeah that's right, I dance in public...or at least in an office in Amos Eaton.

People need to dance more. It feels good, it's fun, and then I'd have more company when I randomly break out into dance in my apartment, walking and on campus as well as in the car. I never took any formal dance classes when I was a little girl; I didn't get to be a little ballerina except for visiting my much older friend Rachel. Rachel was the icon for my eight year old self, and later went on to study at Julliard, dance professionally in Toronto and now owns her own dance studio back in Portland. Anyway, enough nostalgia. Dancing is fun. Dance like you're today's your last day, like you're in love with life, or at the very least like there's a creepy ant on your back that you can't shake off and don't want to squish. Seriously, who wants dead ant guts on their back?

While I passionately enjoy dancing, I have no idea if I'm any good at all. I'd like to think that I am decent, but overall I don't really care. Why should I? It makes me happy, it makes me smile, and I feel truly myself when I dance. I've been told I am awkward, a free spirit, very fluid, a great dancer and all over the place. While everyone can fall victim to caring what other people think, I believe that the initial five seconds of silence when someone surprises you by noticing you dancing or walking in on you is so little compared to joyous movement.

I don't really know if there ended up being an overall cohesive message to this post, but dance. Ignore that Fall Out Boy song of Dance Dance or whatever it's called because I find it annoying, but hey if that floats your boat and it'll get you moving, then who am I to discriminate?

Dance like the sun, dance like you want to, dance for the eight year old girl who never earned dance class due to soccer teams, dance to make up for all those awkward times at middle and high school dances, and dance because you love this run-on sentence.

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