It's Supposed To Make Us Happy
And yet, every single time, I cry. I believe wholeheartedly in mourning and that the mourning process should take however long it takes for each person who goes through it.
It was thirteen years ago that I re-learned to walk. And it was the next year, 1996, when I ran for the first time, with my physical therapist's blessing. I didn't run far, my sprint was less than an eighth of a mile - just enough to reassure myself it was possible. A year after I'd been collapsing in a heap on the floor, I was walking into the local Y to sign up for a dance class. To make sure I still had it.
It was a slow realization. Dance classes are lead by dance teachers. I had no trouble following along. I thought I had it. My body had come back to me. My physical therapist had done a great job. Except when it was time to freestyle. And I froze.
What do I do? Dance! I don't know how. How can you not know how to move when the music inspires movement? That can't be possible. And yet, that's where I still am.
Is it still being in mourning, 12 years after that realization, if I cry when dancing comes up? I have watched this video numerous times over the last couple of years. Every time, the same reaction. Tears.
All those people dancing with him. They do it wrong. They don't do his stupid bullshit jig correctly. And yet they don't care. They just dance. They are happy.
People who can't dance, dance, and they are happy. I can dance better than they can, but I can't freestyle, and I freeze. I am jealous of people who can't dance, because they can dance and I can't.
Where is Stephanie B, because she could put another kid through college therapizing this one.
It was thirteen years ago that I re-learned to walk. And it was the next year, 1996, when I ran for the first time, with my physical therapist's blessing. I didn't run far, my sprint was less than an eighth of a mile - just enough to reassure myself it was possible. A year after I'd been collapsing in a heap on the floor, I was walking into the local Y to sign up for a dance class. To make sure I still had it.
It was a slow realization. Dance classes are lead by dance teachers. I had no trouble following along. I thought I had it. My body had come back to me. My physical therapist had done a great job. Except when it was time to freestyle. And I froze.
What do I do? Dance! I don't know how. How can you not know how to move when the music inspires movement? That can't be possible. And yet, that's where I still am.
Is it still being in mourning, 12 years after that realization, if I cry when dancing comes up? I have watched this video numerous times over the last couple of years. Every time, the same reaction. Tears.
All those people dancing with him. They do it wrong. They don't do his stupid bullshit jig correctly. And yet they don't care. They just dance. They are happy.
People who can't dance, dance, and they are happy. I can dance better than they can, but I can't freestyle, and I freeze. I am jealous of people who can't dance, because they can dance and I can't.
Where is Stephanie B, because she could put another kid through college therapizing this one.
Labels: Dance bitch, I'm Hurt, Therapizing
posted by Green at 6/25/2008 05:34:00 AM
8 Comments:
His dance is ridiculous.
Hopefully this post was a little bit of therapy for you..
I can't dance, and don't. Hope that makes you feel a LITTLE better. (And I am NOWHERE near being able to do 'boat' in F'n Yoga)
Yo. Have you heard of this: ecstaticdanceeastbay.com -- every Sunday morning, people dancing exactly however they want to, there's a rule of no talking on the dance floor so you don't have to feel compelled to be social, *awesome* music, and wonderful people. Nobody in there "knows" how to dance. You could stand in place the entire time and people would just smile at you. I'll be there this Sunday, come on over if you want! PS Yeah I love Matt too.
You know, I cry as well. For me, it's not the dance. Although, I am so willing to lend you LN for some dance therapy - she just wants you to dance and as long as you're moving around, she will clap and say, "I like your dancing."
For me, it's seeing the world and all those faces. I miss it. I miss my internation school in the foothills of Himalayas where we were all just kids and were never defined by borders or skin colors or ethnicity. We were simply boarding school kids who plotted to break rules and who missed our moms and dads.
I so want to be Matt. Except that silly dance... I'd have my own silly dance, thank you very much.
Green, this kinda breaks my heart for you. Dancing is never about wrong or right or how you look to other people doing it, and you know that. Dancing is about expressing yourself and not giving a flying fuck what anyone else things. Dance like no one is looking and all that.
Anon 10:31, I know that, intellectually. But when I hear music, I no longer feel anything dance-wise. I have lost my freestyle. If you give me steps, I can do them,and do them perfectly. But without those I am completely lost. Music doesn't inspire me to dance anymore.
Have you tried a Nia dance class? I liked to close my eyes and let the rhythm lead me to wherever my body wanted to go. Nobody there cared what I looked like doing it.
Is this why you like SYTYCD so much? Choreography appeals to your desire for things to be structured? Rules keep us safe? Running with scissors does not? Tell me about your physical therapist...
(Just filling in until Stephanie shows up...)
Re. your response to Anon 10:31...even when you're alone? If you sit by yourself in your room with the music blasting in your ears...?
This post made me so sad. "I am jealous of people who can't dance, becuase they can dance and I can't." That's just too much, Green. (in a good, albeit, sad way).
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