Hold Me Closer, Transit Dancer

Im sitting in the transit tunnel, waiting on the light rail. Buses pass in both directions, people stepping on and off. Across the way stands a rather androgynous* individual whom I am going to assume to be a woman. And when I say standing, what I mean is dancing. It leads me to the question I often ask: why?

Perhaps she has been overtaken by boredom. Waiting for a bus can do that to you. Eventually you can't help but give in to the beat of your iPod, which in this case seems to be shuffling between salsa and Michael Jackson. Folk life festival is also this weekend, leading me to believe that drugs may be involved, though this judgment is both unfair and hasty on my part.

Or perhaps she just wanted to dance. What makes the light rail station an inappropriate place to dance? Just saying so doesn't make it true. Shedding the encumbrances of societal norms is beautiful.

There is a part of me that envies her: firstly she's a much better dancer than I am (though to be fair, most people are). But further, she's doing what she loves and not caring who sees. The closest I come is posting in my blog so that a few see**. I don't submit to magazines, the very core of what I should do.

I've been thinking a lot about this recently. I need to do something. That's where I am. Now the hard part: doing it.

One closing thought: I don't think dancing in public is really any stranger than some of the sketches and notes (and Dungeons ad Dragons battles) that are scribbled in my notebook.

*To be fair, said individual would be less androgynous at a shorter distance. However, the androgyny is clearly intentional, so the statement will stand.
**This is not to make light of those who do read. I appreciate you more than I could possibly ever express.

Im sitting in the transit tunnel, waiting on the light rail. Buses pass in both directions, people stepping on and off. Across the way stands a rather androgynous* individual whom I am going to assume to be a woman. And when I say standing, what I mean is dancing. It leads me to the question I often ask: why?

Perhaps she has been overtaken by boredom. Waiting for a bus can do that to you. Eventually you can't help but give in to the beat of your iPod, which in this case seems to be shuffling between salsa and Michael Jackson. Folk life festival is also this weekend, leading me to believe that drugs may be involved, though this judgment is both unfair and hasty on my part.

Or perhaps she just wanted to dance. What makes the light rail station an inappropriate place to dance? Just saying so doesn't make it true. Shedding the encumbrances of societal norms is beautiful.

There is a part of me that envies her: firstly she's a much better dancer than I am (though to be fair, most people are). But further, she's doing what she loves and not caring who sees. The closest I come is posting in my blog so that a few see**. I don't submit to magazines, the very core of what I should do.

I've been thinking a lot about this recently. I need to do something. That's where I am. Now the hard part: doing it.

One closing thought: I don't think dancing in public is really any stranger than some of the sketches and notes (and Dungeons ad Dragons battles) that are scribbled in my notebook.

*To be fair, said individual would be less androgynous at a shorter distance. However, the androgyny is clearly intentional, so the statement will stand.
**This is not to make light of those who do read. I appreciate you more than I could possibly ever express.

Hold Me Closer, Transit Dancer