Hello, everyone, I’m back! I know it’s been a while, and I’m sorry for that.
Truth be told, I fell into a but of a dance slump. I didn’t feel like going out, I didn’t have the motivation to get out and just do it. I’m going to place part of the blame on the fact that it takes so much effort for me to just get to the dancing. 45 minutes one way is kind of a hike. Plus another 45 minutes to get home; all on a night when I have to be up early for work the next morning. I know, I know, woe is me. But it really takes some effort and makes waking up the next morning difficult, and I had reached a point where I didn’t want to make that sacrifice of time and effort.
I also graduate college, moved across the state, started a new job, quit said job, started another new job and am preparing to move again. That’s quite a lot to happen in a very short span of time. And on top that, I left the only dance scene I had really ever know. Sure, when people ask, I tell them I’m from Cincinnati, but I have never spent any real time dancing here. Athens has been my dance home since I first set foot on a dance floor.
But I have had one seriously exciting development that has sparked a fire in me. I joined a choir. For those of you who know me, that is less than surprising. But for those of you who don’t know me, just know that I love to sing. I do it in the shower, in the car, when I’m home alone (even when I’m not, I don’t really care).
How does this relate to my dancing, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you.
The long and short of it is: I love music. I love being involved in every part of it; from making it to moving to it. I’ve even written it (Once. In high school. It was awful. Don’t ask.). But joining this choir has put me back in the position of being immersed in music from all angles.
I see it like constructing a house. At the foundation are the notes on the staff, the time signatures, the key. You know, the real nitty-gritty of it all. The structure is the song you get, the sound you make when you tie all of those things together. It’s belting it out Broadway style or getting in the groove with a saxophone, the part everyone sees and what they tend to remember most. But what really polishes it all off and makes it something remarkable is dance. It’s the paint on the walls and decorations you choose. This is what makes my music my own. It turns a house into a home.
Without any one of these things, I’m not complete. There is something so powerful about owning something so fully. The music I make is something that is truly mine and something that no one can take away.
The moral of the story is, I found the spark I needed to rekindle my passion to dance.
So while I’m still living 45 minutes away, working even further away, and I’m exhausted the next morning, I’m going to dance more. I mean it. I’m back.