My father, college professor, engineer, philosopher, planner, and
musician, also happens to be a very funny man. Every time I meet or
speak to his friends from college--he stays in touch with most of
them--they're always telling me stories about how he made them laugh
and about his knack for comedic timing.
When I was fourteen my family was at a barbeque held by one of our
neighbors, and music started playing. Now, most of the guests at this
party happened to love dancing, so one by one they began to dance.
To my horror, my dad stood up and took my mom's hand to dance. Ah! But
they're not good dancers! (actually, I had no idea WHAT kind of dancers
they were or would be, I was just pre-horrified). How embarrassing! I
was mortified in the way that fourteen-year-olds get mortified.
So I sat there, and watched all these people, including my parents,
dance. My dad, goofy as he is, was twirling my mom around, and they were both laughing. And slowly the feeling crept up on me that in fact, I was the
one missing out. There's music playing and I can feel it in my head, in
my mind, in my arms and legs and shoulders, and I'm just ignoring it.
That night, as I sat in the car on our way home, I told myself that the
next time there was an opportunity to dance, I would be the first one
there.
I have kept that promise to myself.
Yes, if we're at a party, I will be one of the first ones out on the
dance floor. I will dance and boogie and jump up and down with no
reservation. One of my friends once remarked that she found it amazing
that I didn't need alcohol to do this. I said that the dancing was
enough of a buzz for me. Another friend pointed out that there is no
such thing as bad dancing, not in these situations. What's bad is
people being too reserved to enjoy themselves.
Life is complicated. Research is, God knows, complicated. Relationships
get weirder and weirder the longer we're in grad school. Dancing,
though, is bone-level. You just have to let go and let the music take
you where it will. When the music stops, we all will go back to our
messy lives and jobs and relationships. But for as long as it's
playing, I would rather be out on the dance floor than on the sidelines
WISHING I was on the dance floor.
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