Sunsets are such an enchanting cocktail of colours. Burnt oranges, warm reds, majestic purples... it's such a shame that this display of colour isn't quite as attractive on my knees.
If you'd have told me a few years ago that I'd go to dance lessons, I'd have laughed at you; if you'd have told me just one year ago that I'd be breakdancing, I'd have bought you a nice white jacket with extra-long sleeves. Regardless of who's sanity is in question right now, breakdancing is exactly what I found myself doing this Wednesday. Hence the knees.
No, I didn't spin on my head- does spinning on one's head seem like a good way to break (ahem) into it? It was only about six seconds of "light" breakdancing within a whole three to four-minute routine, but it still required strong enough leg, arm and core muscles to defy gravity for a few nail-biting moments. It was tricky. Failed moves were painful. I loved it.
Do you love baking, but don't consider yourself a baker? Love playing the piano, but don't consider yourself a pianist? Love superheroes and pop culture but don't consider yourself a real geek? I dance up to three times a week, not counting at-home practice (in the kitchen where nobody can see me) and I'm going to be performing in a dance show in April, but I still don't consider myself a dancer. Odd, isn't it? Where does one cross over the bridge of affirmation? I am a baker. I am a pianist. I am a geek. I'm not a dancer.
I dance, but I'm not a dancer.
It's not important, though: what's important is that, whatever I am, I have a great time dancing. During those years ago that I would have laughed at the very idea of me dancing, my permanent state of internal being seemed to be a foetal ball of pre-emptive embarrassment. Yes, I performed many times in front of hundreds of people when playing the piano, but music was always the one fantastically strange exception to my painful awkwardness. I've long since taken a few leaves out of the honey badger's* book (apart from the eating cobras and biting people parts), and now if there is something I want to do, I'll give it my best shot, not worrying about if I'll fail miserably or not. And you know what? I may not feel like I'm a dancer, but I can dance just fine after all.
(Although let's see if I say the same thing after the show in April.)
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* Link included in case this blog entry is found in a hundred years' time** and the meme has long been forgotten
**Not probable but not impossible, seeing as once something's on the internet it's on there for good. Permanently. Forever. Including all of those drunken picture you upload. Sweet dreams.
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