I am so blessed

1-13-13     6:55pm

I am so blessed. I taught dance for the first time today in about ten years. It felt SO good. It was ME. By chance I met a little girl who wanted to dance and her mom said it’s okay. She’s about 7. I didn’t ask. I bought her some tap shoes and brought my pink duct tape. She wanted to tape her headband to her hair. Lol. Her favorite color is pink like mine and I had a blast. We jumped up and down and walked like ducks and cartwheeled and ran around and still made progress. She is so sweet. I feel like me.

I didn’t want to go today. I was so down and discouraged. And I was afraid I would get in trouble for teaching in the back of an existing class. I organized papers and sat on my bed and stared. Literally all day. I was so cold that my fingers and toes were numb. Just be. But I put myself together to go and I’m so glad I did. I had a blast and the teacher wasn’t angry but surprised and delighted to have the option of having kids learn there too. I’ve never been much one to teach kids but I can adapt.

I have my own odd way of teaching. More quirky than odd. I use shapes and movement and chairs and build things up backwards. And it works. If you stick with it. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to find myself through teaching this little girl, even if only for today. I love dancing. And dancing loves me. (sigh) I am so blessed.

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© Michelle Routhieaux 2013

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Wish

8-30-10                2:34am

Dear Magical Wish-granting Fairy in the Sky,

I wish for a clogging studio, please. The one I see in my head. It’s one of those dream/wishes that’s not really possible but that I’ve been dreaming about since I was little. I’ve yet to find a genie or a shooting star or a sugar daddy or to find hidden treasure. I thought maybe you could help me out. It’s worth asking, right? So, please, if you could. Help a sister out. Thanks.

Michelle

Comfort. Bliss. Pain. (clogging)

This is part blog, part letter.

8-29-10                1:52am

Comfort. Bliss. Pain. (clogging)

There is no feeling I know that tops twirling on a dance floor while clogging with people I love. There are people here this weekend that I’ve known forever and love dearly, whom I never see. They are my family. I just want to be near them. I’ve not much to say. I just want to be close. There’s something special about not having to say anything…

(fight with Mom)

Breathing. Tears. I don’t want to leave this place. I don’t want to go home tomorrow. Not because nothing bad ever happens here but because with these people I know it will be okay. That I will be okay. And I’m not.

I just watched Boston Legal. I went to a gathering last night of friends and it felt so good to have fun, to laugh and feel happy. And to be physically close to people. There are hugs here that make me feel loved…

I don’t see a lot of people like that. And sitting next to one makes me happy and sad. Happy and grateful for the moment and sad that it’s ending. I long to be close to someone, to be held and comforted and loved. To have someone to curl up with, a hand to hold. Instead I have a pillow at the end of a hotel hallway, a purple pen and a journal. And an angry mom sulking in a hotel room over me not putting my pajamas on. What the fuck? Yeah, I’m bitter. (deep breath…) Crying.

Your life is fundamentally at odds with the world. Therefore nature rejects you. (Failure to Launch)

This weekend has not been about illness or drama. My illness has affected my dancing but no one has asked me about it. No one’s asked much of anything. It’s been nice to have a break but it feels like this huge secret. I have this big clogging family and they’d be supportive if they knew (I imagine). But they don’t…

I cried at Lynnda’s slideshow tonight not because I knew her well but because I think of that stuff. I wonder what will happen when I die, who will notice, what the service will be like. I cried for me. In case you’re wondering, when I die you should dance. And if there’s a slideshow, please splice the music smoothly and don’t use “I Will Remember You.”

… I don’t have a name. I just want to dance, to feel that free feeling and the warmness of being close to you. You bring me comfort. I don’t know why. You just do. It makes my heart tingle. And for that I am grateful. Thank you.

(deeeep breath) I just wanna dance.

-M

Skirt-vention

5-9-10                   3:10am

There needs to be a skirt-vention in clogging – an intervention for skirts. There needs to be a rule that if you’re wearing a layered skirt there should be at least one more layer than the number of hooks on your bra.

I don’t know what it is with mature women and clogging skirts. Just because the waist still fits does not mean it’s age-appropriate. If I’m praying you don’t twirl, your skirt’s too short. There are a few key offenders here but every year the number grows because the wardrobe doesn’t change. Skirt-vention. Some skirts are just not okay. And how do you say that to a person, really? “Um, hey there. That skirt is way too short. You should stop wearing it.” That’s a semi-kind way. Do you have any ideas?

And a note about bloomers that I sometimes see. Butt-ruffles are reserved for those under 5 and over 65, and only over 65 because they don’t know it’s wrong. Don’t kid yourself. It’s really not cute. Really. I promise.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010