Dance, Dance Revolution

I love to dance. Isn’t that the silly line from Girls Just Wanna Have Fun? Sarah Jessica Parker opens up about how dancing is her life and then she ends up dancing and falling in love with the mean, hot boy with the muscles?

Well, I’m no Sarah, but I do love to dance. And though I’ve been told by many people that I “dance like a white girl” and “have no rhythm” I refuse to quit. Dancing is so fun and so jolly. It takes me back to my junior high and high school days where although I looked like my cousin’s basset hound I had the personality and spirit to keep me happy and thrilled by life.

Here in South Africa, I’ve gone dancing twice with my friends. One time, we ended up at a few clubs, one of which was an attempt at an Irish pub. I say it was an attempt because it was called “The Dubliner” and yet I’m not sure that much of the place seemed very Irish (including the beer choices). At that place, this cowboy from Texas who smelled of stale cigarettes twirled me into some country swing dancing for the majority of the night.

The second time we went dancing was sort of by accident. The intent was never to go to a club and so I was wearing my light blue TUKS t-shirt which is at least a step up from wearing a Disneyland t-shirt in public but a step below looking good. It didn’t matter though, the music moved me.

Isn’t that what dancing is all about, feeling the beat of the music and sharing that with people on the dance floor? I sure think so anyway. There’s nothing like busting out my junior high dance moves which are about 18 years out of date. Woot! Woot!

Tata for now.



(Yeah, I’m the dork in the back with the arm tattoos.)


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