Dance, Dance

Sometimes when I close my eyes, I see myself in a leotard. You may not know this but I really like to dance. Usually not in public. . . yes, I am a private dancer. But not for money and no, I will not do what you want me to do. And you know why? Because you probably can't dance. It's shocking and a little embarrassing but you should really own up to your defects in character.

Dancing builds character. Did you know that?

I used to watch the very popular show Dance Party USA after school when I was just a sidekick and not my fully-grown Super self. I was very fond of a girl called Lisa in a blue unitard with curly black hair. She knew how to move. I very much liked her partner Michael. In fact, I called in to this show once and spoke to Michael. He sounded very much like a robot. I think I told him he had "great moves."

Back to me. There's a time to dance. And a place. The bus is probably not one of them. And yet I felt the incredible urge to dance up and down the aisles today. I felt as if the dance would explode inside me. I think the passenger sitting next to me could feel my dance intensity too.

Also when I was young, I would frequent this goth club in the city to dance. There wasn't much dancing involved then. We mostly stood around and looked depressed but in a really cool way. Dancing was purely background.

But at some point, dancing became foreground and before I knew it I was a dancing machine. Usually it takes a couple fun beverages for me to shake it like a Polaroid picture. I don't like to rub it in other people's faces how well I can dance. I'm just that kind of person. I know I have the gift.

Lately I've felt the fever though. I want to go Jennifer Beales on someone. Like a maniac. I can totally picture how awesome that would be, obviously more so for the recipient of my incredible dance. So just be on the lookout because if you see me on the street or on the subway or in a restaurant and I'm dancing, dancing. . . consider yourself blessed, at least for that short moment in time.