Dance, Dance, Dance
I click on the playlist. It’s time to dance. I bump up the volume until it can’t get any louder – then I lower it a bit, because you know, I have roommates. But the first beat takes me on its back and we go for a ride.
Nothing makes me feel quite as good as dancing. I dance when I’m happy, when I’m sad, when I’m tired, when I’m energised, even when I hear the clicking of a random girl’s heels in the hallway. I dance alone in my room, I dance on my way to class, I dance in the car, I dance anywhere.
Dancing used to be a serious practice for me. I would go to the studio three times a week, my hair pinned back in a tight bun, and work tirelessly for hours with my pointe shoes on. I loved it; it was like a second home. Everything else disappeared when I went to dance class. It was only me and the music. Nowadays, even though I don’t get to practice ballet anymore, I still feel that way about dancing. It’s the most freeing expression of happiness I have found. The ultimate expression of love for yourself – for your life. Even if you’re only tapping your fingers to the beat while working at your desk, you’re dancing. If it brings even a smidge of a smile to your face, congratulations: you’ve found the perfect soundtrack to your current mood. For me, it always changes; electro swing, folk, rock, pop, a mix of all the above… Embrace aaaall the music!
I never understood the people that say they can’t dance. You don’t learn to dance. You just follow what moves your body feels like throwing. Who cares if you’re a so-called bad dancer? At least you’re dancing! And that’s more than that guy can say, the one standing awkwardly with a drink in his hand, not daring to move away from the wall.
It’s easy, really. Just choose to make your life a freakin’ party.