I'm a few clowns short of a circus, and unfortunately I've disillusioned myself into thinking I can write. Godspeed.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

I wish I could..

.. dance like no one is watching.

I know it's a little early to be making a New Year's resolution, but if I do in 2010, it's going to be this.

We're going through a pretty harsh cold snap right now in Northern BC, and on my smoke break I bundle up, pop in my earphones and listen to tunes, often moving self consciously but wishing I could dance with abandon -- not only to keep warm but to enjoy the music I'm listening to.

I have no problem dancing like this in the privacy of my home, and more than one of my roommates has come home to me gyrating and doing some hilarious rendition of dancing not unlike that of the infamous "Elaine" of Seinfeld fame.

I went out dancing with a friend a few weeks ago, and after a few minutes of watching the people on the dance floor, she commented on a few people dancing who were obviously trying, but not succeeding. While I agreed that most of them seemed graceless, just the pure joy they exuded from dancing in this manner, unaware of the judgements of those surrounding the dance floor, I also admired them for their loss of inhibition. I don't enjoy drinking to excess, but this seems to be the only way I can dance in such a manner here.

I cared less in the relative anonymity of a European nightclub. I think it only took me a week or so to understand that the vast majority of the people I met on that trip would never see, hear or speak to me ever again. I would be a fleeting memory in their mind, and I would prefer to be remembered as the "Canadian girl who was having a good time" than the "Canadian girl who sat morose in the corner downing beer and being too self conscious to have a good time".

The trouble is that people do judge, and I am all too aware of this fact. This gives me even more incentive to move back to the city where I am just a nameless face, possibly recognized by a friend of a friend or acquaintance of an acquaintance, but still anonymous enough to dance with the abandon I crave.

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