Thursday, March 17, 2011

I have coffee. Shall we dance?

First of all, I'm not succumbing to the St. Patrick's Day pressure today.  I know, I know, I'm totally no fun.   Fact is though,  I am not even a little bit Irish, and shouldn't have to wear green for people to leave me alone and let me do my job in peace.  Anyone pinches me for wearing purple and I'll throw a quick elbow and drop them before they can say 'clovers and a pot of gold'.  Seriously.    That's pretty much all I have to say about that.

Dancing was quite literally my life from age four until the age of sixteen.  I was not a sports kid.  Hell, I couldn't even climb a tree or run the mile in school, but I was dancing in a pair of pointe shoes by the time I was ten.   I logged as many hours in the dance studio after school and on the weekends as folks do working a part time job.   I was sad to leave it behind, but my life choices paved a different path for me.
Still, there is nothing that I loved more than dancing, and I love the art form to this day.

This was quite evident when I was working 60+ hours a week and still going out dancing as often as I could.  I'm rather tired just thinking about it now, my energy level and endurance isn't what it once was… after all, we're talking about the days that I could easily go on two to three hours of sleep a night for weeks at a time.    Now I'm quite literally crawling up my stairs before nine in the evening and falling into a heap on my bed, anxious to just let my eyes close, as I know morning always comes quickly and I have to do it all over again.

So, yeah.  My life isn't really conducive to clubbing these days, which is fine with me.  I had my years and quite honestly, I don't think I  currently have the patience level for crowds of strange faces young enough to be my kids mixed with familiar faces that are far too old to still be decked out in latex, black lipstick and platform boots.  Really, someone ought to tell them they've just become an amusing caricature of who they were twenty years ago.   I mean, I still love the same bands as much as the next gal.   But come on, people.   Evolve… yes, you're still so very hardcore, but you and I both know you have jeans and sneakers in your closet like the rest of us.    Nowadays, I can rarely stomach the club experience,  but it doesn't stop me from dancing.

Yes, I still dance.  I wake up early enough to have time to drink my coffee all alone, before anyone is even considering opening their eyes.  On days I'm feeling particularly energetic, this coffee time also doubles as 'early morning dance party in my pajamas'.   I can spin my own playlist and forget I've got anything else to do,  at least for a few songs.     Today, which is day number nine of the song challenge, it tells me to post something I can dance to.    So on this St. Patrick's Day that I refuse to participate in, I tip my hat to an old club favorite that always got me on my feet.   It's still in heavy rotation on my kitchen dance floor.     Hey, a party of one isn't so bad, you know.


p.s.  Dear Ogre, you are still amazingly hot after all these years.  Yes, sir.  I know what I said about evolving, but it doesn't apply to you.  You just keep doing your thing.    xoxo



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