Citizen Wausau

Of Dance and Definitions

by Grinning Soul on October 20th, 2008

I have been busy lately…not writing.  I feel a bit like a slacker but I have been further from that  Gen-X  catch word. (Though I was born right on the cusp of the hypothetical cut-off date considered for the Gen-X generation, I fully consider myself part of Gen-X.  I was 2 months late)

I have reconnected with my natural art, the one thing I may not know, but understand and feel on levels  I can hardly dare to write about because writing has been my far second interest to dance, the art of movement.

I was fortunate as a kid to have the biggest bedroom in the house which meant that there was a lot of room to dance  around to various 80’s pop hits.  I was getting crazy to Katrina and the Waves, Whitney Houston,  “Freeway of Love” by Aretha Franklin among so many others.  I remember cranking my tiny pink boombox to the Dirty Dancing and Cocktail soundtracks whenever I knew my parents wouldn’t notice and I would let loose in my own private bedroom dance studio.  I was an early, early fan of Michael Jackson and the subsequent videos from the Thriller and Bad albums.  I can only imagine now how silly I must have looked  bopping around in florescent colored sweaters and frizzy permed hair (thanks mom), but I am guessing that the silliness changed upon the release of Janet Jackson’s, Rhythm Nation, 1814 album.  That album, I think I could safely say, changed the course of my life, but I didn’t realize it because I was only 10. 

Of course, being the MTV age, I remember the video for the title track.  Janet and her back up dancers doing the most stellar moves I had ever laid my eyes upon.  I was captivated as they danced in robotic unison (without doing “the robot”)  in the black and white industrial setting.  I wanted to be a Janet Jackson’s back up dancer.  Much to my dismay, they were not looking for any 10 year old girls with frizzy permed hair and a collection of slap bracelets.

Without going into the deepest depths of my history of dance, I will keep the past short and sweet.  I took a couple years of tap dance lessons at the expense of my grandmother.  That was very sweet because it was not an expense my parents could either afford or justify.  I choreographed a dance for my 6th grade talent show.  It was a Bette Midler song.  I did not get picked to perform which may have been a blessing from my teachers because I would have probably been severely teased as soon as “Ms. Otis Regrets” blasted through the sound system.   I was the weird girl at school dances that could do all the most popular dance moves of the time which was not really cool in the early 90’s in Central Wisconsin, then ushered in the rock and grunge years where I bobbed my head and hair around more than danced, but I was still moving.  After that came the rave years which was like beacon light of happy thoughts and danceable beats  through the fog of distortion, musical angst and depression.  I remember when techno music actually infused itself within my muscles and bones.  Old friends witnessed it, and suddenly I just danced a style like I had never seen.  I just did it and kept doing it and entertaining fellow party goers occasionally until the scene became unhealthy and I grew out of it.

I grew out of something but into nothing.  That is the last 4 years I am currently trying to rewind;  an idleness and lackluster that crept into me and festered. 

So a while ago I was contacted by someone on Myspace who was looking for a dance partner in the line of ballroom dancing.  It sounded fun however I was exploring other avenues at the time.  I showed and interest and then brushed it off.  I was recently contacted again and decided to jump on the soul train and even though I have a lot to learn, this big part of my existence has been illuminated.  It is human nature to enjoy most the things one is good at or be good at the things that one enjoys the most.  I have not been so excited for something in a long time.  I am notorious for trying new hobbies and then losing interest quickly or perhaps it is just quickly realizing something is just not for me.

Four or more years of feeling undefined, or in the blog world, “uncategorized.”  I wasn’t a mother, or a student, a triathlete,  or a nurse, an activist or a wife.  As much as I rallied against labels as a cusp Gen-X teenager, I was suddenly searching for them in adulthood as I increasingly became disassociated with my peers.  I tried to find things, little things to define myself.  Little things I could share with others that would give them a window into my true self as opposed to the ones that they had to assume because I had so little tangible traits to share.  Here are some of these things:

• I open cupboard doors and drawers and then neglect to shut them.
• I will watch a movie and read a book and forget what they are about within a week.
• When I am spending time outdoors, walking/hiking/geocaching, I prefer to be alone but I don’t mind sharing that time with others.
• I continue to dislike Swiss cheese.  I try it about once a year.
• Tubing is about the only winter hobby I can do besides slipping and falling on my bum.
• My internal clock is frighteningly accurate.
• ….which naturally makes me anal about punctuality.
• Drawing the curtains at night brings me great joy and satisfaction, like I am saying goodnight to the world and it is respecting my privacy.
• I have 2 sets of demitasse cups and saucers but no espresso maker.
• I did not read all the books on my bookshelf, but I meant to.
• I love doing laundry but hate putting it away.
• I miss having a close guy friend or occasionally being “one of the guys.”
• I have no idea where all these health and beauty aides came from.  Hair products, facial cleansers etc.
• Night Owl.
• I have a fear of getting physically lost but have grown quite comfortable being lost within.
• I fantasize about being able to play a violin naturally, as if I was born knowing.  That would be my super power.
• Who else had to eat buckwheat pancakes as a kid?
• I was once compared to Annie Hall.  That seemed fitting.  Currently applicable?… unknown.
• My first childhood heartthrob was John Cusack in “The Journey of Natty Gann” 
• I love baths but I can’t stay in them for very long.
• Some “things” I wanted to be growing up:  Back-up dancer or dancer of any professional sort besides stripping, FBI Agent, Journalist or Writer of some sort, Frontier Woman.

So now I begin learning the Waltz, Foxtrot, Samba, Tango, Swing, Cha Cha, among many others.  I don’t expect any of this to come easy, but so far it has come a bit naturally.  Suddenly something feels aligned.  This is so cool.