Tuesday, February 15, 2011

On not dancing, in the year I danced.

I am in LAX waiting to fly back home to Cincinnati.

Before I left, I imagined dancing in Cambodia and Thailand and when I was back in LA. Or at least moving my body in some culturally appropriate way. And all I really was able to do was some yoga. I'm not dissing yoga, mind you, I'm just saying that the opportunity for dance didn't really present itself. And when it did, when I was back in LA, I chose to hang at the hospital with Kristin instead. One night (brace yourself people) I stayed up until 2 am for a remarkably fun Game Night party and when it came time for morning dance, I slept in instead of suiting up for hip hop.

I spent so many years slacking my way toward a drink and a cigarette that my commitment to movement and to "doing what I say I'm going to do" is gargantuan, obsessive even. So for me to give myself a break these last couple of weeks is kind of a big thing.

So far, the sky hasn't fallen and my body hasn't morphed into some unrecognizable lump of flesh.

But boy oh boy, am I ready to challenge my brain and my heart and my bones and my muscles with my favorite Cincinnati dance teachers and my dance friends.

And now that I know I can actually stay up past midnight, I might just meet you out for a night at the clubs.

Now it is time to board.

Tomorrow, it is time to dance.

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