Tuesday, June 28, 2011

confessions of a car dancer.

When I was 18, I moved to a small town in Iowa to study music. I wanted to be a singer, and I wanted to go to a place where nobody knew me. I remember everything about those first few months as if it were yesterday. But the clearest memory I have was the day I sat in the bleachers of a local baseball field with my friends watching a bunch of guys I didn't know play ball. One in particular stood out to me. He had an air about him that exuded "cool". And the calves on him, sweet jesus. I do believe that was my first real "crush", which I swiftly pushed down into oblivion the moment I discovered the object of my affection was my new best friend's boyfriend. Ahem.

Of course, a mere month later, he proceeded to break her heart. I sat back and observed as he dated every single one of my friends, leaving a trail of tears behind him. I still thought he was tremendously handsome. My heart raced every time he entered the room. But I had accepted it was not to be, and so I stood back in the shadows and watched him charm the ladies with his big blue eyes and shy smile. He had a kind heart and perfect pitch, and was one of those people that lit up a room when he entered. I had a feeling that deep down, he really wasn't as cool as he played himself off to be. I wondered why he kept himself constantly moving and surrounded by people, and what would happen if he stood still for just one moment with his thoughts.

Having never been a person who had swagger, or knew how to play "the game", I have always been impressed with those who have "it". But as I car dance my way across the city, windows rolled up, hip hop blaring, looking completely ridiculous, alone with my thoughts, I think maybe I am the way I am for a reason. But it sure would be nice to come off cool every now and again. It sure would.

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