Skip to main content

Just Dance

Let's face it. There's not too many positive things going on in the world lately. The economy is going down the toilet faster than Caroline's potty attempts. I rarely talk to someone who isn't concerned about the stability of his or her job and fearful to be living paycheck to paycheck or potentially losing benefits. Not to mention, summer is around the corner, along with high gas prices and out-of-pocket vacation expenses. Will there be an end to the madness? When is the bend around the corner?

I join the millions concerned about life right now. I'm your classic worry wort. For each positive thought I have, my brain instantly counters with a concern.

It's sunny out today. What if I get a sunburn?
We were invited to a party this weekend. I have nothing to wear.
My job is paying for me to take a class. What if I fail?
I'm joining a new social club. What if nobody likes me?
You get the idea. My job, my spouse, my parents, my spouse's parents, my kid, my friends, the economy, the news, the environment, the endangered polar bears and the receding ice caps: they are all swirling around in my head in a big ball of worry. I just want it to all be ok. We're all going to be ok, aren't we?

I let the weight of the world fall on my shoulders and my neck is killing me. I try the usual suspects to help me through the pain like yoga, running, chocolate, a funny movie, a good book and then there's wine. Lots of wine. (After Caroline's bed time and only on weekends, of course.)
These work, somewhat, but I've found most days, before work, after work and before family time and during some of the above mentioned activities, I find myself doing the same thing: dancing.

The cure is thumping, repetitive beat, LOUD music. Whether in the car, on the treadmill or in the living room, I love to turn up the volume and break it down. Like Kevin Kline in the movie "In&Out" I can not listen to a great song and keep my body from moving. First, it's one leg, quickly keeping in step with the beat. Then, a shoulder and then the other one. Finally, I let my whole body wriggle. If I'm not driving, I add in some hoochy momma moves, grinding and bumping the air, shaking my hips and "going low" to the ground, or at least as far as I can get without falling over onto my butt. If I am on the treadmill I let my mind take me to a dance club where I'm wearing a Madonna "Holiday" like get up with a crew of dancers behind me. We form a V and I'm in the front. I end in a split.

There are so many great dance songs but lately my favorite is a regular pop-favorite, Lady Gaga's, "Let's Dance":

"Just dance, gonna be okay, da da doo-doo-mmm. Just dance, spin that record babe, da da doo-doo-mmm. Just dance, gonna be okay, d-d-d-dance. Dance, dance, just, j-j-just dance."
I don't know what tomorrow brings but I know it's gonna be okay and no matter what, I'm gonna just, j-j-j-just dance.

Comments

Phoebe said…
Dance Workshop was worth it!

Popular posts from this blog

I Love Otsego but I Love Andy More

Growing up, my big brother was your typical older brother. He loved to torture me and his favorite hobby was making me mad or making me cry. He took my own stuff and made me buy it back from him at a yard sale. He put dog crap in my socks and sneakers. He threw spit balls at me, pinched me and never let me win at any games. Despite his daily doses of teasing and displeasing me, I did notice that he wasn't particularly interested in other people making me mad or making me cry. I'm not saying he was ready to fight on my behalf, or ride up on a white horse to protect me, but he was pretty firm in his position as the number one bane of my existence. Despite the fact that he no longer tortures me quite like he used to, our relationship has left a lasting impression on me, long into adulthood. As a self proclaimed arm chair therapist, I take note that I have been trying to work through that relationship for years-with Andy. Poor Andy had no idea that, when we started dating, I'…

Holiday Letters- in Two Versions!

I don’t know about you but I love a good holiday letter. Nothing sends me into a tailspin of self doubt and depression like reading the carefully crafted story of the highs and accomplishments of those in my life. As the letters flow in, alongside the photos of the beautiful smiling faces of my loved ones, I curl up under a warm blanket, look out at the bleak, gray winter skies and think: what the fu#k is wrong with me?We are so fortunate, due to modern technological advances, to be able to experience this self doubt an average of 20-50 times per day as we addictively scroll a variety of social media channels. Yet nothing truly confirms our own personal inadequacies like a yearly summary of others’ successes and happiness neatly packed in an 8 1/2 X 11 sheet of paper, folded in thirds and slipped into an envelope alongside a card collage of beach shots, matching sweaters and smiling, happy faces. I, too, have sent along such letters to accompany our smiling happy faces, providing thos…

An Open "PM" to Polly

Hey Polly, it’s me- Melissa. Can I call you Polly? Because I feel like I know you. Do I know you? We’ve been in the same social media circles for many months now.I see from your profile that you went to Cornell. I have a lot of friends that graduated from there. It’s an awesome school. What year did you graduate? I also see that you’re self-employed. I really respect entrepreneurs, particularly female entrepreneurs. What’s your business? Are you a photographer because your Facebook profile picture of Doubleday Field is fantastic.I see that you don’t have any Facebook friends, Polly. I understand that. Are you lonely? It can be really lonely around here. Listen Polly, this election got really nasty but at the end of the day are all neighbors right? Do you want to meet, do you want to talk about it? Haven’t seen you on social media since the election. I totally get where you’re coming from, Polly. It’s been hard for me, too. When you put yourself out there with really strong opinions pe…