Reply with 5 words that remind you of me. I will reply with A) my thoughts on what those 5 words mean to me and B) 5 words for you.
You can then either reply in my journal with what those words mean to you, OR you can post them in your own journal and perpetuate the wordity.
My first set of words came from atdt1991
If I were to dance for you, as hard as that would be to do, would you watch?
That was written on the bathroom wall at Grinnell, and it struck a chord for me, but I don't think it means to me something that's obvious in the words. Is dancing hard for me? No. Dancing is like breathing, like singing with your body. I have danced since I was little, danced down the street despite my sister digging me in the ribs with her elbow, danced with my family every holiday and with friends in childhood summer solstice parties, barefoot in the grass, barefoot on the beach, and also in the studio and on stage. I love to dance.
Dancing around other people, however, is hard for me now. When I read "would you watch?" I think, "would you see ME?" Not would you enjoy some sexy object dancing in front of you, but would you see me and feel my joy and see what I'm doing there when I try that trick and manage to look like I'm flying instead of falling, because flying is where you fall and miss the ground. I love to dance with other dancers, to play off of each other's themes, and fool around. I used to be married to someone who rarely danced, who didn't understand me and dancing. Dancing around those who do not dance makes me feel awkward and self-conscious. People are jealous, or lewd, and just generally don't understand. Sometimes, I dance, and people catch the joy and share a smile with me, and that's wonderful. Sometimes I dance and pretend no one is around me at all, so I can get into the music and the movement. Mostly, I dance by myself, where you cannot see me.
But I'm working on that.
At its best, dancing is collaborative play and performance. I enjoy both of those things. I think participatory fun is the best kind. I like to cook together, paint together, and do all kinds of projects together, including running science fiction conventions. Things that cannot be done by a single person, but involve the interest, ideas, energy and talents of many, are some of the most challenging and rewarding things you can do.
I like to collaborate on not-so-pleasant chores, too. This topic reminds me of Free To Be You and Me, and the poem Housework, which ends,
If you want all the days of your lives
To seem sunny as summer weather,
Make sure, when there's housework to do,
That you do it together!
But generally, if I invite you to do a project with me, it's not because I think it's a chore and I want others to bear the burden. It's because I think it would be fun to do together. If it's not your thing, just say no. But don't get the impression that I'm just inviting you over because of what you can do for me. That sort of invitation is about what we could do, together. Which ought to be fun, or you're doing it wrong.
Orange you glad I didn't say banana?
I have been performing on stage from time to time since I was 6. Second grade. I played Mr. Sylvester McMonkey McBean in the play The Sneetches. I did not have the most lines. My friend Frannie, the narrator, had the most lines, but I got to ride my tricycle on stage and wear a red hat! I was hooked.
I like performing on stage. It's a place where you put your all into what you do for a defined period and the metrics of how you did are very very clear, and when the performance is over you're done. The ultimate deadline-driven work, which is the format I work best under.
Every performance is different, and it's not just about being the shiny star solo. I have been a member of a greek chorus (the trick is to listen to each other breathe and inhale to speak at the same time). I have sung in the wonderful Singers choir in Grinnell. I never soloed in the choir, but I loved being part of the choir. The orchestral power of Carmina Burana. The a cappella beauty of the All Night Vigil by Rachmaninoff. I would love to perform singing jazz and blues, but I've never had the opportunity, except in high school.
Laughter is The Best Medicine.
Remember when Reader's Digest was worth reading? Well, for the jokes at least. Laughter is a really important part of life. When you choose a partner, choose one that you can make laugh. Turns out I didn't, in my first marriage, and that took away a number of the coping mechanisms I'd grown up with. My parents made me laugh 5 minutes after my first serious boyfriend broke up with me. It isn't about forgetting. It's about accepting. Letting go so you can hold on and move forward. Sometimes it's laughing so you won't cry (though laughing through your tears works too), but sometimes it's just laughing.
I *love* friends I can get the giggles with. I'm going to see one of them in a couple days -yay!- and I hope to have friends like that all my life. I feel lucky to have a family that laughs together. It helps us deal with all the ways we make each other crazy, but it's also just something we share, how we appreciate life and the world. I want to be like that. I choose to be like that. I love to laugh. Loud and high and clear!
(And if you know that song, now you have it going through your head. Ha! Aren't musicals wonderful?)