Time To Blaze

Pure podiatric hawtness.

Hawt! Hawt! Hawt!

We have this multi-light light thing over the sink in the bathroom.

It’s got six bulbs in it.

A few weeks ago, two of the bulbs gave up the ghost the second I flipped the switch.

And I so totally wasn’t in the mood to change them.

Because I’d have to climb on top of the vanity. And straddle the sink.

Which is a pain.

And those teeny tiny screws that hold the glass cover? All kinds of awkward.

Which meant the switch-o-rama would take way longer than it should.

And I had stuff to do. I was busy sending sweet things out into the world.

And I think I only had one new bulb anyway.

So I left it.

I figured I’d do it tomorrow.

Not, like, the actual tomorrow. But the theoretical tomorrow. Which is code for who-knows-when-but-maybe-never.

I forgot. I swear.

Fast forward one week.

I’m knee deep in some gorgeous drum-ey groove. Pounding the skin so hard that my hands were hurting.

And my wife pops her head in the studio to remind me that those two bulbs still need to be changed.

p.s. It’s pretty much impossible to play the busy card when you’ve got a drum wedged between your legs.

Plus I totally meant to change the bulbs. I swear.

The truth is I just kind of forgot about them.

I mean, the first few days I was annoyed every time I went in and the bathroom looked all dark + cave-ey.

Then, by day four, I was a little less annoyed.

And I’m pretty sure that by day five I forgot there was even a problem at all.

Didn’t the bathroom always look like this?

Yeah. Now I’m talking about shoes.

I used to love to dance.

I mean, I still do. But I forgot.

And I didn’t remember until I got a pair of new shoes the most fabulous shoes ever.

Red suede Docs that are pure podiatric hawtness.

The second I tied the laces on those ridiculously fab shoes, I started dancing.

I blasted The Ramones. And the Talking Heads. And the Sex Pistols. And Devo.

And I danced until I could barely breathe.

I felt totally possessed by the beat.

That hasn’t happened in forever.

I mean, I’d bust out a little random shaky butt here and there.

But a full on shake-what-yer-mama-gave-ya groovefest?

No way.

Michael Jackson, trees + drag queens

But this?

This flailing around to music in some semi-altered state?

This is what I lived for as a kid.

I loved dancing.

When I was a little nugget, I’d kill it while spinning Thriller in the living room.

I would make people watch me moonwalk until they were ready to poke their own eyes out.

It just got worse as I got older.

By the time I was 13 or 14, I was sneaking out of the house on the regular.

I’d crawl out my second story bedroom window, tiptoe across the roof, shimmy down a tree and race to my friend’s car tucked away on a side street near the house.

(Sidebar: Can I just say what an impressive feat that was for a woefully unathletic kid like moi?)

Me and a bunch of my punk pals would usually end up at this downtown dive joint called The Clubhous.

It was in an alley.

And they barely checked IDs.

And it felt like a totally alternate universe to my thirteen year old self.

Imagine the perfect mix of mind blowing tunes, exquisite drag queens + the funkiest dancing within a couple hundred miles of here.

All of us would dance hard.

And we’d stay until the club closed.

Then we’d race home to steal an hour or two of sleep before we had to get up and go to school.

And sometimes we did this three or four nights a week*.

* If you happen to be my mother, this is probably the first time you’re hearing about this. I’d like to remind you that this happened over twenty years ago. Which means that you totally can’t kill me over this now. Right?

Break ups + jiggle-ey bits

By the time I was old enough not to have to rely on ninja moves and escaping under the cover of darkness, dancing and I weren’t BFFs anymore.

I’d go to a club to hang out. And socialize. And kick back a few drinks.

But dance?
Not so much.

I don’t really know why I stopped shakin’ it in the first place.

I just did.

Then I started gaining weight.

Have you noticed how there’s something almost taboo about fat people dancing?

You really never see it.

Unless it’s on a horrifying reality show or some asshat YouTube clip called something really clever like Super fatty trying to dance lololololol.

Even friends of mine giggle over big people getting their groove on.

There was no way I was letting my jiggle-ey bits bounce around in front of anybody.

So dancing and I broke up. For good.

And, over the years, I thought about dancing less and less.

Eventually I forgot that we were ever friends in the first place.

Inching toward dim

That’s how it happens, isn’t it?

Slowly. Gradually. Almost imperceptibly.

Sure. Sometimes the stuff we love goes black in one catastrophic blip.

But usually?

It happens one bulb at a time.

We think we’ll get to it tomorrow. And we don’t.

Our eyes adjust.

We get used to the dark + cave-ey.

We forget about when life was way brighter.

Dim becomes the new normal.

And we start to think that it’s always been like that.

Burn baby, burn!

Well, fuck that folks.

I have red suede Docs.
And I’m going to dance.

It might not be pretty. Or polished.

But I don’t care.

I. Will. Dance.

Crank up the tunes. Give me some room. And pass me some shades.

Time to blaze, baby.

Do you have a bulb that’s burned out?
What is it? What do you love about it?
What do you need to get it back?
What’s your version of red Docs?

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32 Responses to Time To Blaze
  1. Shamsi Charlie Pettus
    December 9, 2010 | 12:05 pm

    Dude… way to make me cry – flat out – on a Thursday before 11AM. WHA???

    There’s a lotta juice going on in that madness my friend. I haven’t finished absorbing it all. But my viceral reaction, the knocking at my tear ducts, and the way I just want to reach out, bear-hug you and totally put on the loudest, bounciest dance tuneage I can find to dance til the police haul us away… yeah – there’s something pretty big to this one my friend.

    Please don’t ever stop rockin’. The world needs Punk Rock Philosophers of every flavor♥

  2. Tami
    December 9, 2010 | 12:17 pm

    Great post, Fabeku! It had me laughing so hard, because this exact same thing happened to me a couple of weeks ago, and I have yet to change that wretched bulb. Anyways, I think my burned out bulb is writing. I used to LOVE writing – poems, short stories, you name it. I filled up tons of notebooks and journals. And then two things happened at once – someone violated my trust by reading my journals, and another person I really care about had some harsh criticism regarding my poetry. I totally shutdown. I just stopped writing. Through the years I’ve tried over and over to rekindle that passion, but it still doesn’t have that flow-ey mojo that came so easily when I was younger. Honestly, I’m not sure what I need to do to get it back. I’ve tried just writing through the funk, but that never seems to work. Actually, I did see this AMAZING journal in a catalog recently. I might have to go back and take another look….

  3. Jenn
    December 9, 2010 | 12:17 pm

    Would you believe my bulb is coloring?!? And it’s funny because this theme keeps showing up in my life lately – this theme of “find contentment.”

    I’m a big ole Type A. And I work. A Lot. I get almost obsessive about it. My house literally breathes yoga.

    This weekend, during a fantastic workshop, I was acutely reminded that I don’t do a whole lot just for the sheer joy of it. So, I came home Saturday, looked at my 9 year old daughter and said “get out the paper and the crayons cause we are gonna color!”

    She LOOOOOOVED that!!! We sat and colored for about 2 hours. We had a blast. I found joy! And we are headed to the craft store this weekend to load up on all sorts of colory goodness wheeeeeee!!!!!
    .-= Jenn @ Blended Yoga´s last blog ..Quickly Tame Tension – Anywhere! =-.

  4. Tori Deaux
    December 9, 2010 | 1:04 pm

    Love.

    I have a very similar relationship with dancing… with all of music, actually. It’s a true love, but one that isn’t for public consumption (especially, as you point out, with weight gain) so it gets shoved aside, pushed under the bed, locked in a dark closet.

    It’s a sad, sad thing.
    And it’s a much darker world because of it.

    I did manage to drag both art and writing back into the light, after some years of leaving them with only dust-bunnies for friends. So there is hope for dancing and far more brightness in my world.

    Of course, a good start would be replacing the *actual* burnt out bulbs in my studio space, eh?
    .-= Tori Deaux´s last blog ..What The Hell Is An Emmit and other top Twitter questions =-.

  5. Whitney
    December 9, 2010 | 1:17 pm

    Yes. This.

    I loved to dance as a kid. I was in dance classes from the age of 4 until middle school. I was always the chubbiest kid there, but I rawked the dance floor.

    Now, as a 24-year-old, I am morbidly obese. I have been since right after high school. I’m actively working towards healing my compulsive overeating, which is the cause of my obesity, but it’s hard work, I have a lot of slips, and it’s not a magic pill, so I’m still obese.

    This fall, I somehow found the courage to enroll in an African dance class. The drums entranced me. The rhythm got into my entire being. There is no room for body shame or judgment while I’m in it. (There’s still judgment and shame outside of the studio. But at least there’s a haven where it’s not allowed.)

    There’s stuff that I can’t do right now due to my body size and my other physical limitations. But it doesn’t matter. I can still perform with the rest of my class. I can put on a flouncy skirt and make it twirl.

    Dance is a part of my life again. I don’t want to go back to the dim. I don’t want to forget. Thank you for the reminder.

  6. Kylie
    December 9, 2010 | 1:30 pm

    I don’t know if I have any bulbs burned out right now. I did a few months ago, but I’m pretty sure I changed them and they’re burning brightly again.

    And by the way, those red Doc are, indeed, hot. I dream of a world where all people, and especially fat people, dance whenever the heck they feel like it. So there.

  7. Christine Martell
    December 9, 2010 | 1:31 pm

    Dance Baby Dance!!
    .-= Christine Martell´s last blog ..Bees =-.

  8. Brad
    December 9, 2010 | 1:31 pm

    Fantastic post! ^5
    .-= Brad´s last blog ..Day 9 – Party time! =-.

  9. Beth
    December 9, 2010 | 1:42 pm

    Oh. My. Holy. Hell. This fat girl is going to go home and effing DANCE now. Then again, I should probably replace the three lightbulbs in the bathroom. That one imma-gonna-keep-glowin bulb is woefully lonely. It’s been dark and cave-y in there for a week. Truth.
    .-= Beth´s last blog ..Rockin My Socks Off =-.

  10. Marianne
    December 9, 2010 | 1:42 pm

    Yes! Burn baby burn. A couple of weeks ago I worked my ass off organising a surprise 40th birthday party for my man and by the time the night was in full swing all I could do was dance. I think I danced from 8pm to 2am without stopping and I know I danced away a year’s worth of ‘working too hard, playing too little.’

    I was wearing high-heeled gold sandals and a 50s style halter-neck dress that made me feel like the original dancing queen. Those gold shoes are now on my ‘things to wear when I’m getting FAR TOO SERIOUS’ list.

    Dancing. How did we ever let that bulb stay out so long?

    Never mind. We are back now.

    xx
    .-= Marianne´s last blog ..The Frailty Myth – Rally for Girl’s Sports =-.

  11. Jude Spacks
    December 9, 2010 | 2:28 pm

    Ooooooo Thanks! Brought the good tears to the eyes. It’s been the ‘jiggly bits’ that have stopped me–don’t want to gross people out looking like a big manatee undulating to the beat. But–when I see someone big move, it makes me feel so happy and free. I gotta join your party. Love!

  12. Joan Bright
    December 9, 2010 | 3:32 pm

    Drumming was one of the lights that burned out and I did not even notice or realize….that metal oil drum on the beach behind my house, due to someone’s float having broken up and the drums got rolled up on land wherever and some kids turned this one upright. I don’t remember who played it like a drum first, I just know I was playing it as often and as long as I could…don’t remember how old I was. I don’t think I was in high school yet….
    me – also unathletic, hated gym class, totally worried about how I looked trying to do anything with a ball – but I climbed trees, ice skated on and swam in the lake, sledded, walked or rode a bike everywhere including to school and summers between ages 9 and 17, swam on a summer league swim team. So, I was in pretty good shape. Walked to school in all weathers and every day, including for 4 years of high school even when they finally got a bus to cover the route past my house. It was my thinking time and one of the reasons that the really lots of weight gain thing didn’t happen until college….along with beer and cheesesteaks and pizzas (South Jersey, next door to Philly area, yeah – cheesesteaks and Tastykakes and turning 18 when the law changed to allow 18 y.o.’s to drink in NJ-lotsa beer) I didn’t get teary reading this, but I laughed out loud…not at the thought of you dancing, but at the joy of that thought. Love you, Fabeku…keep lighting the way for the rest of us. You are so right, fuck that! and burn, baby, burn. Do you know the story of the girl and the red shoes? The shoes won’t LET her stop dancing….they dance her to her death. But it only happens because she stopped letting herself do what in her heart, she really wanted, she squelched all her desires and longings and was such a “good girl” that when she finally thought she was finding an outlet, she was fooled, it was a trap. So she was deceived by an enchanted pair of enticing red shoes.
    I think yours are the opposite-Enchanged red shoes…they are the means to allow yourself to do more of what you love and to express yourself freely and regain all of your happiness, fabulous-ness and joy AND like I said, to help the rest of us find the way to that for ourselves. So the whole world will be way more fabulous, one rediscovered joy-giving activity at a time. Yay!
    Yes, I’ve noticed that nonsense about what’s taboo for fat people to do. And it’s nonsense. How do you get back in shape if you don’t move? Vigorously? I have a friend who is a small and thin man, who makes fun of how his neck would fit better on a woman, it’s so long and thin and swanlike (it’s not! it’s in proportion to the rest of him) and I told him that, just the other day….and asked him to stop putting himself down. When we first got to know each other, this past spring, we had a conversation about picking on ourselves about our appearance and we agreed it is destructive and negative and gave and received permission to tell each other about it when we are seen lapsing into that.
    I asked him to meet me at an outdoor concert of our friends’ 60’s band this summer and before ha arrived, one of the camping chairs I brought broke, when I sat down. I borrowed another chair so we would each have a place to sit, if he showed up. He did and asked about the chair, and I called myself a fat ass and told him I broke it….. He gently but firmly told me not to call myself mean names in front of him…or anytime, either. We remind each other to be kinder to ourselves all the time, and I love the friendship we have. We encourage each other to remember our finer qualities…for both of us, in recent times, that’s a lot of sticking out tough economic times, etc., lack of work, fear of lack of work, fear of losing our places to live, etc. and so forth. You have been important support to me in this time of finally, painfully and haltingly and in fits and starts, climbing out of the tough times of the last two/three years. I love you. ALL of you!

  13. Joan Bright
    December 9, 2010 | 3:37 pm

    My version of Red Docs…my drums. My Back Off, I’m a Goddess bumper sticker on my car. Keeping my hair long even though it’s “inappropriate” for a woman in her fifties (no, I don’t agree with that!) Throwing underwear from the Dollar store at Greg from The Large Flowerheads when he sings “Delilah” in his best Tom Jones style…while screaming hysterically. Bringing my udu into the chemo ward along with some rattles and stuff and teaching all the nurses how to get sounds out of it…wearing much purple as often as possible. Red shoes have been on “the list” for some time…you’re an inspiration, Fabeku. And how you took procrastinating over changing some light bulbs and did what you did with it….awesome. Thank you. For making me think about what my “red shoes” are and how to increase red-shoe-time in my life.

  14. Grace
    December 9, 2010 | 3:41 pm

    Whoa. You got me good on that one; I so didn’t see the correlation between your two story lines till it whacked me on the head. NICE!

    Here’s a poem I came across recently by Hafiz, as translated (or “rendered,” as the book jacket says) by Daniel Ladinsky:

    “A Divine Invitation”

    You have been invited to meet
    The Friend.

    No one can resist a Divine Invitation.

    That narrows down all our choices
    To just two:

    We can come to God
    Dressed for Dancing,

    Or

    Be carried on a stretcher
    To God’s Ward.
    .-= Grace´s last blog ..Content versus design- which wins =-.

  15. Leila
    December 9, 2010 | 3:50 pm

    Wowwww. Love this post and LOVE YOUR DOCS and all the memories that your punk school nights hold for you!
    .-= Leila´s last blog ..Transitions- bridges- dancing- goofology =-.

  16. Molly Gordon
    December 9, 2010 | 3:51 pm

    Oh my. Yes.

    Now that I am on the downward slope toward 60, I notice thoughts about dance and me not being right for each other anymore. What a crock. What a shame. What an unnecessary waste.

    And I’ve had the same confusion about clothes. I don’t know how to dress anymore. Should I dress my age? What on earth would that look like?

    Truth is, I’ve never dressed or acted or danced much like anyone else. Why start now?
    .-= Molly Gordon´s last blog ..How to get success out of the closet and aligned with your heart =-.

  17. Catherine Caine
    December 9, 2010 | 4:03 pm

    You magnificent darlingheart. Shake it like there’s no tomorrow and dance in that light.
    .-= Catherine Caine´s last blog ..The YOU kind of marketing =-.

  18. Andy Dolph
    December 9, 2010 | 4:07 pm

    Wow

  19. Sarah Marie Lacy
    December 9, 2010 | 4:18 pm

    Fabeku.
    You made me cry.

    I love to dance. Love it. Took ballet classes 14 hours a week and got into the National Ballet School. And then when I got sick, I stopped. And over the years, I forgot.

    I started taking ballroom dancing classes recently. And I remembered. I remembered what it’s like to move my body, to shake my loose booty, to glide across the floor, to feel alive and comfortable and sensual in my skin. To belong to my body.

    It’s like flying. It’s like losing yourself and finding yourself at the same time.

    I never want to stop again.

  20. tracy
    December 9, 2010 | 5:07 pm

    Fabeku. You are fabulous!

    Okay, my turn, I LOVE to dance.

    When young, throbbing club music, dark, no one watching, just the vibrations of the music. But I’m SO not a night person.

    SALSA! LOVED that. Wasn’t as much fun being single. Then moved to an area where it doesn’t exist.

    Now? I’m a friggin’ belly dancer for gosh sakes and I feel like I don’t dance. What the heck is up with that?

    Sigh. Your words. Your story. Your sharing. Yep. Feeling kinda trapped in my body and not sure how to MOVE it. Freely. Without any inhibition.

    This is the perfect inspiration for where I’m at right now.

    Thank you. Besos!!!

    Keep dancing you beautiful being!!!
    LOVE your boots!!! LOVE THEM LOVE THEM!!!

  21. Kip Kozlowski
    December 9, 2010 | 6:10 pm

    When I was in college, my friends and I danced, danced, danced. Then I got married, had kids, etc,etc. Then it was only dancing at weddings. Now I’m old–and fat. But you know what? In November, a wild friend took me to a tiny little bar in Manhattan–the show started at MIDNIGHT, for heaven’s sake (ie 2 hours past my bedtime). The kids there looked at us like “Oh, isn’t that sweet–the band’s moms came to see them.” It was LOUD. It was dark. It was–it was–Heaven! I need this bulb. Now how to get it in the midwest where people I know might see me? Maybe I need some of those boots.
    Thank you.

  22. Elizabeth
    December 9, 2010 | 6:10 pm

    Darn it. You made me cry. I sort of feel like that about dancing, except it’s mostly because it was on the long list of things that we weren’t allowed to do growing up and now that I’ve worked on that part so I feel like I can, I worry that I’m too old and don’t really know how anyway. Also, I’m not a night person. But it is fun at home – and you’ve reminded me to do it more often.

    Dance on!
    .-= Elizabeth´s last blog ..in which i concede defeat =-.

  23. skaja
    December 9, 2010 | 7:23 pm

    Love love LOVE this. <3
    .-= skaja´s last blog ..Starry =-.

  24. Julie Stuart
    December 9, 2010 | 11:17 pm

    What’s halfway between Atlanta and Cincinatti? We must drive there at once and find a place to dance all night. I’ve been sneaking in moments of dancing…alone in hotel rooms to Madonna’s Ray of Light, especially Swim…and also swaying to the beat on airplanes and in my car…but a real night of hot-sweaty-leave-it-all-on-the-dance-floor dancing? omg!! Need! Must have. This, my friend, is in our future.
    .-= Julie Stuart´s last blog ..Visually mapping my client touchpoints =-.

  25. Sue
    December 10, 2010 | 1:35 am

    i love this whole story and your sharing and your willingness to be so transparent which is one of your strengths anyway. i too, want to reach out and give you a big old hug. i am a great hugger by the way, so you’d really know it. and then i would pull you out on the dance floor and i’d shake my booty with you for a round or two.
    after a year i’ve lost 40 pounds. and now i want to dance. i used to dance all over my bedroom when i was a teenager. and i sang. i know all the words to west side story and more. when i got heavy, especially over the past couple of years, i stopped dancing. now i find i am graceful and have rhythm. im dancing to xavier rudd these days, and whatever else i hear on the radio that has a good beat.
    but the question about the light bulbs? it’s not about dancing and it’s not singing. (tears welling now). i’ve shut myself down to love. (pass the hanky, please)(ok, snuffling back tears).
    i know where it comes from and i know the whys and all the other stuff. i’ve done a bunch of healing. really. and im excited about being visible. and scared a little shitless too. but after so many years of holding myself back, putting myself at arm’s length, now it just seems like habit. and i gotta say. it sux.
    i need to think about what my red docs talisman might be.
    i’m so glad you pushed publish. thanks, spud 😉
    .-= Sue´s last blog ..WORDLESS WEDNESDAY- Peace Mandala =-.

  26. Pamela Belding
    December 10, 2010 | 6:57 am

    Play that funky music White Boy! Play that funky music Right!!! Play that funky music White Boy! Lay down the boogie and play that funky music till you die!!!!! Shakin it with you Fabeku!! xoxoxo

  27. Lori
    December 10, 2010 | 10:42 am

    Dance you Wild Ninja, Dance!!!!!

  28. Angel
    December 10, 2010 | 10:54 am

    Fabeku, I swear to God you are one of my heroes.

    Dancing has been in my head lately & this just made me want to jump up (in my office, right now, screw what my co-workers think ;-)) and ROCK it!

    What’s funny is that I used to just LOVE to dance. I’d win dance contests & would be the first to jump in.. but as with many other stories above… somewhere along the way I just kind of lost it and my body seems to have forgotten how to move. I used to be so graceful and fluid… now I feel like Jonny 5 trying to get his groove on and it just feels YUCK. Instituted Family Fun Nights on Fridays (last week) and turned on Pandora and had my kids out in the living room dancing away with me. My daughter had never seen me dance before & was in shock. It was cool. Someone above mentioned African Dance and I am going to look up a dance class & see if I can do something like that around here. SO SICK of feeling like I don’t belong in my own skin. This is me, I am as I am.. take it or leave it. (Now if I could only convinve myself of that ;-)).

    You rock on with your bad self & enjoy those Doc’s. I’m sure they look FAB on you! 😉

    my best…
    .-= Angel´s last blog ..Flipping the bird at conventional ideas of spirituality =-.

  29. Andrea
    December 10, 2010 | 1:01 pm

    You and Single Dad Laughing had similar things to say about dancing this week. I am glad you feel happy to dance again and I hope you send in a video clip to him in your new, glorious shoes! 😀

  30. Glad
    December 12, 2010 | 9:50 pm

    In the words of KC and the Sunshine Band, “Shake Your Bootie!”

    xo
    .-= Glad´s last blog ..why not … =-.

  31. Fabeku
    December 15, 2010 | 5:51 pm

    You guys totally blow me away. Really. I read and reread your comments again and again. Good schtuffs taters!

    @Shamsi – Thanks you. Bear hugs back atcha. And here’s to some major rockin’ out.

    @Tami – Argh. Sorry about the hard around writing + the situations that created it. And I love that you saw a journal that’s all inspire-ey. Maybe that’s the magics you need to get back into writing?!

    @Jenn – I lovelovelove coloring. And I love that you do it! What a sweet story of coloring with your daughter. Coloring FTW!

    @Tori – Right on for dragging art + writing back out. There’s totally hope for dancing again, too. We should form a club. With secret dance parties!

    @Whitney – Your comment left me smiling + crying. At the same time. I get so much of what you’re saying here. And African dance… yes! When I first bumped into it, the dance + the drums rocked my world. It still does. I’m so stoked you’re dancing again + twirling that flouncy skirt. You’re a rockstar! Go you!

    @Kylie – Yay for no burned out bulbs! That’s awesome. And I’m totally with you on the dancing-whenever-you-feel-like-it thing.

    @Christine – Rawk!

    @Brad – Thanks muches.

    @Beth – Love the fire! And the dancing! Go go go!

    @Marianne – Isn’t it awesome what we can shake off when we dance? Love it! And I love the gold shoes. And, yes, we are so back now!

    @Jude – I get what you mean about not wanting to gross people out. I felt that way, too. But after I laced up these Docs and hit that groove, I came out on the other side realizing that it’s so not my job to give a shit what people think about me dancing. And I know it’s way easier to say that than it is to live it. But I’m working on it. Baby steps. (grin)

    @Joan – I love the story about the oil drum. And the red shoes. And friends who help each other to be nicer and kinder to themselves. And your list of red Doc goodness? Pure awesome!

    @Grace – I love the Hafiz goodness. So much. Thanks for leaving that here. Glad you did.

    @Leila – Thanks you!

    @Molly – I’m so with you on the what an unnecessary waste part. And right on with the why-start-now? part , too. I’ll totally be your dancing-and-dressing cheerleader anytime, sweet friend.

    @Catherine – Thanks!

    @Andy – Word.

    @Sarah – I’m so stoked you’re doing ballroom dance. Fabulousness! And I love what you said here:

    It’s like flying. It’s like losing yourself and finding yourself at the same time.

    Yesyesyes!

    @Tracy – The vibrations of the music – yep! I so know what you mean. And belly dancing is so awesome. You have to remind me to tell you my belly dancing story someday. Glad there’s some inspiration here. I just wish we could all hang out in the same place and dance!

    @Kip – I love this. Every word of it. Thank gawd for wild friends + tiny bars in Manhattan, right? And I swear there’s some magic in these boots.

    @Elizabeth – I got teary reading your comment, too. The not-allowed-to-do stuff is so hard. I’m glad you feel like you can dance now, though. Yay!

    @Skaja – Thanks!

    @Julie – This. Must. Happen. We should pull out the map + plot a course + bring our best dancing shoes and our best fireproof clothing. Because we will blaze!

    @Sue – Thanks for the hugs. Totally appreciated. Congrats on losing 40 lbs! That’s epic! And so so awesome! And I can feel the hard around the love stuff. I get how this stuff turns into a habit. Ergh. I’ve got a bucketful of good vibes here for you.

    @Pamela – Thanks for sharing the shake-it mojo!

    @Lori – You know it!

    @Angel – I love that you’ve won dance contests! How awesome is that?! And yay for Family Fun Nights that involve dancing in the living room! p.s. I’m betting you’d love African dance. It kind of feels like magic to me. And the drumming. Whoa.

    @Andrea – Coolness. I’ll have to check out his post.

    @Glad – *shakingshakingshaking* (grin)

    Have I told you all how much I heart you? All of you? Because I do. So so much. Thanks for every single drop of awesome you’ve shared here. Totally appreciated x 100.

  32. Kyeli
    December 18, 2010 | 12:47 pm

    I knew these Red Boots would pump you up! This is awesomely greatly wonderful!

    For me, Indian music (as in, Vas and Niyaz) get me moving and dancing and forgetting about being “too fat to dance”.

    Woo! <3
    .-= Kyeli´s last blog ..Rushing through the Caverns =-.

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