Some were born to sing the blues
On Thursday night, I went to Moving Thoughts, the APA dance show. If want to get me in a bad mood, take me to a dance show. After every pas de chat, you can find me wincing in anguish. Each arabesque, a dagger in my side. A Pas de Deux is a guarenteed minute of huffing and mumbling. Dance is a visual representation of passion. Of rejoice and regret, remorse and regeneration of self. Its a beautiful, free-flowing twirl of the arms or legs or hips or eyes. And in that, all of us dance. Some of us have more experience dancing, and some of us dance more beautifully than others...but we all dace. Every step we make is a little bit graceful, and every word we speak has some unknown and unbridled passion. You can't realize the enveloping beauty of an individual's dance until you are willing to dance with them.
Jodi's dance, choreographed to Journey's Don't Stop Believing, was extraordinarily powerful. Jodi is, of course, a dear friend of mine. The song itself is one of the most powerful pleas for integrity and love. It was inordinately pallatable and meaningful. The story of a small-town girl and a city-boy, both void of any significant meaning in life, taking a trip to wherever a train may take them. Haven't we all wanted to do that? I know that for me, only lonely nights of self, I take my car and a Bob Dylan album and I create a reverberating madness of volatile and ludicrous thoughts, meandering and expanding throughout myself. My head starts spinning, my brain is racing, my heart starts pounding more noticably, I get dizzy. In the existential sense, my only reason for being is to be one of Journey's 'Streetlight people,' ..living just to find emotion.
When we stop living to find emotion and start living to find stability, we realize that the delicate balance between growth and identity is dependant on a consistent optimism. Dare we forget to dance with others, and not share in other's flawless nature, we will undoubtedly fall into the gaping hole in life that breeds cubicle and desk jobs. As me and my dad came home from the Dodger game tonight, we were singing Tom Petty and Dylan songs, neither of us on key or knowing close to all the words, yet completely unabashed my each other's presence. A true friendship and an amazing base for building any kind of relationship is a comfort and enjoyment in the other person's discomfort.
In my second to last entry, I went on at lengths about my current status as a boy without a girl. Jodi's dance and my recent nurturing of my own awkwardness and disillusionment have driven my thoughts to a decision that there is a necessity for a girl who is a free-spirit, self-thinking and spiritually (not necessarily religiously) independant individual. A pessimist with a half-empty glass in hand. A girl who will hold my awkward hand and channel the emotion that my hands produce on the ebony frets of a piano into a completely essoteric understanding. She's out there..I know she is. And I think I even know where she lives.
I'm starting to make my journal mixed friends only and public, this being one of the first public entries in a very long time. Hello and welcome back world.