Dance Like Everybody is Watching. With Mirrors On All Sides

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore”
~ Andre Gide

I think it's fair to say that I cannot, cannot, dance. I can do this thing where I drink three shots of tequila and then sort of hallucinate I'm on So You Think You Can Dance, but once the liquor wears off it becomes apparent that I have just run drunken laps around the bar with my hands in the air like a maniac. I love the idea of dancing - I watch all the shows, entertain fantasies about quitting life and spending 8 hours a day learning how to crump - but at 28 years old, I realize I'll probably always be relegated to the tequila squat and thrust.

This doesn't mean, however, I won't spend 2 hours a week attempting to reverse fate.

Because recently?  I've started taking a dance class. A friend teaches this class - otherwise I would have never, in a trillion years, set foot into a room surrounded by mirrors - and what started as a one time experience has turned into a weekly lesson in embarrassment management.

Not only are there mirrors on every single wall, there are actual dancers in this class. Like, people who shake their ass in their sleep and do ball-changes in the shower. They wear Flashdance-esque shirts and are always turning left when I'm going right. They see something once and repeat it like they choreographed it themselves. They add flair.

And me? I'm in the back. In the corner. Staring at the person in front of me and desperately trying to figure out how to fucking pivot in the right direction. I'm stepping on my own feet. Blowing my hair out of my eyes and trying to sexily walk toward the front mirror without bursting into howls of laughter. I mean, I can be sexy, but when you add specific steps to specific hip-shakes, I think, for the most part, I am the opposite of that.

What I Am - And Successfully Mastering The Fine Art of Staying The Eff Away From Pie

I am always ready to learn although I do not always like being taught

~ Winston Churchill

When I'm feeling less than spectacular, I tend to engage in an activity where I tell myself all the things I'm not. Not successful. Not a super athlete. Not rich. Not in a relationship...I'm good at it. Someone should give me a medal. Or at least one of those vague Dollar Store trophies where the gold guy is just sort of standing around and which can be used for anything from being awesome at bowling to having the most team spirit.

This activity serves a purpose: to make me feel even worse about myself and keep me from changing anything about my life that would make it better.

I've been here before. It happens a lot in the winter - I came out of the womb wanting sunshine and warmth and hot guys without shirts (I was a special baby, obviously), and I can always count on a double dose of it during quiet career spells - when my hopes and dreams seem to bounce off empty white walls.

She Wanted to Run to Bali, But Instead, She Set Her Jaw and Stayed

“Supposing you have tried and failed again and again. You may have a fresh start any moment you choose, for this thing that we call "Failure" is not the falling down, but the staying down”
~ Mary Pickford

I'm currently seeing the world in a bright shade of dull.

As much as I believe we make our own mood, our own happiness, I'm fully aware that sometimes life just...goes. There doesn't seem to be anything to really look forward to. Waking up every morning, staring at the ceiling, wondering what would happen if you just quit your job and took off to Bali or Barbados or, at the very least, the Bahamas.

While plans for the future remain bubbly, the Here and Now is kind of suffocating. And when this happens, every single time this happens, I get sensitive. I daydream, I meditate for more than 45 minutes at a time, I look over my shoulder and I most certainly listen.

I tune in to other people, hoping to glean something from our interaction that will point me in the right direction, or at least point to what I'm doing wrong. It's like my cells get bigger, my already sensitive sensitivity increases and every little word, every breeze, every sad dog commercial (why are those things so long?!) hit me at my core, forcing me to feel, pause, ask: what's going on here? Is this where I'm supposed to be? What is this all about, anyway?

Conflict - if and when it arises, sits on my chest even harder during these uninspired days. It sinks a little farther under my skin because there's no But-It'll-All-Get-Better-Soon! protective covering. In other words, I ruminate like a champ.

2011 Wasn't So Bad, Kind Of Like Under-Cooked Broccoli, Which is Good For You, If Not A Little Difficult To Actually Swallow

“Courage allows the successful woman to fail 

and learn powerful lessons

from the failure

so that in the end

she didn't fail at all”
~ Maya Angelou

As I was cleaning my room this morning (dusting my countless shelves and getting severely freaked out at the amount of dirt I live with on a daily basis) I came across a list of things I wanted 2011 to bring. Ha ha ha. 

The end of 2010 had me making big wishes. I wanted some payback from the shitty 365 days I felt I had just experienced. I deserved this and that, and certainly wasn't about to spend the entirety of 2011 alone. So I made this list of desires, rolled it up into a little scroll, tied it with string, and set it in a box with incense and "magic" stones and a bunch of other shit I had been convinced to buy at some point in order to change my life. When I unrolled it this morning, the childishness of some of those wishes struck me.

If life is a progression toward knowledge, than a true sign you're doing it right is to cringe at certain things you were sure of in the past. I cringe a lot at my past incarnations - probably more than I should (every other month I desperately want to erase 75% of this blog), but it was strange to be holding a piece of green paper that was only a year old and already feeling like it was an ancient relic.

Happy Holidays From 1997! A Seasonal Video Blog Including Josh Groban + Male Strippers

"Well, there are lots of great treats this time of year - Zucchini Bread, Fruitcake.. but the thing that I most like to bring out this time of year are my Balls"
~ Pete Schweddy

The holidays have been written about, and written about, and written about.

So my bosom buddy Maria and I decided we would discuss -- as in, jump on iChat one Friday night when the rest of the world was fist pumping and doing shots of marshmallow-flavored Vodka (because it unfortunately exists) -- the holidays; perhaps chatting about our favorite Christmas carols or our favorite holiday films or maybe even a show and tell of some of the best gifts we've ever received.

And then I drank one (one!) beer and Maria got drunk through osmosis.
And we ended up with what you're about to watch.