Monday, April 10, 2006

This is Spinal

I'm returning to the black and white era. Or shall I say beyond black? Anyway, this is Sarah Jones, not Spinal Tap. Spinal Tap is much more amusing and has british accents, and foul language. (Nina, you MADE me watch this movie, remember?)

So, the picture. This is a self imposed therapeutic treatment I am trying. One where I expose myself to the world instead of ripping up or deleting all pictures of me. And therefore proof of my existence. I am pretty sure that I didn't exist between the years 1999 and 2001 as there is little or no documentation of that time. And so an effort to become less vain? Does this make sense to anyone else?

*I'm feeling much better, but still medicated and my antibiotics make me dizzy. In case you are wondering where this is all coming from.

And so, if you would all assist me in this effort and not give me compliments, pity or otherwise, as it is not obligatory. Okay really, I have just been feeling yucky due to all this sickness and am trying to remind myself that on some occasions, I feel, dare I say, pretty?

I had an epiphany this weekend. One that I am a little ashamed confessional....

I am a sucker for any movie involving dance.

It can be the worst film ever made, and I will be in a state of complete bliss while watching it. Of course there are wonderful films such as Strictly Ballroom, and then less wonderful ones entitled Dance with Me. This is what drives me to excited anticipation for such movies as Take the Lead (which I saw this weekend), but spans as far as Bring It On, and explains my giddy await of Stick It.

So as I watched Antonio Banderas teach troubled urban students how to ballroom dance with their own style of course (I especially like the ones that involve troubled teens, or an ugly duckling) I started to wonder what my problem is. I love to dance. There are pink leotard, purple legwarmer laden home videos that attest to this fact. And yet, I never do. Because I'm not into the whole club scene let alone the lds single dance scene. Unless I am home alone. For shame.

There was one line in the movie, where the awkward ugly duckling girl sighs as she confesses that maybe she just wasn't made to dance? And I felt her anguish. But wise latin lover dance instructor asks her do you like to dance? Well then you were made to dance. So on a scale 1-10, exactly how pathetic is it that I left the theater inspired? And how great is the possibility that this was merely induced by a myriad of medications? In the end, I care not, but am determined to enroll myself in dance classes. Possibly ballroom (which can be scary if you don't have a self selected partner...these are community classes....SLC is a little more diverse than you might think) but most preferably, an ultra improvisational urban class like the one the ballerina sneaks off to in Center Stage. Shall we dance? And what are the odds that I find someone to dance with that is 1) taller than me 2) preferably heterosexual and 3) not wearing one long dangly earring with a cross and obsessed with Sarah McLachlan, or the guy that starts the dance apologizing for his sweat soaked shirt, or a 45 year old Bolivian who is half my stature. (Seriously, I think these are the last people I danced with. Bless there little hearts.)

I can't remember where I was going with all this, except that I wanted to mention that when I was half there at this meeting yesterday for what is promising to be GREAT institute activity (Im trying my best to be positive about something I want no part in), the dear sir that was directing us to promote said activity in our wards advised that we do so energetically and not to take our prozac that morning. I literally bit my tongue in order to hold back a "too late buddy." It just makes some people uncomfortable.

Ps...For those concerned for my well being. I am doing much better and will soon be off the meds and back to my regular self. Whatever that is.


Manda said...

Okay, you have to take a dance class. Dance your little heart out. I, myself, am a closet dance lover and just two semesters ago I decided to enroll myself in a beginning ballet class, because I have always LOVED ballet. There were days when I made a complete idiot out of myself, embarrassment beyond measure. Days that I left there so totally discouraged and vowing never to go back. But I always did, because I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. And no joke, the day of our ballet final, our instructor gave us verbal instruction fir a combination. After we did it the first time my instructor, crazy, nazi ballet lady said, "Since, Amanda, you were the only one to execute this combination properly, why don't you demonstrate to the class?" After MANY classes of being awkward and totally off, this was a surreal moment for me. While there were times I was never more humiliated, there were definite times I never felt so beautiful.
Okay, me me me, blah blah blah. Sorry. Just wanted you to know if I can do it, you can certainly do it!

Sarita said...

Good for you! I would love to be a prima ballerina but have not the discipline nor the body. I dont think there were too many viking ballet dancers. :)

Seriously, I am just anxious for an outlet, good exercise, and someone to compliment me on my hips. are an inspiration my dear.

Hobo said...

I saw you in the flesh and you're not an ugly person. I think that's an acceptable and objective comment, nevertheless bending the bounds of your "don't comment on my looks" rule.
Secondly, take the class. Practice not caring what people think or see when they behold YOU. Chances are, they aren't anyway or are just celosa.
Thirdly, pienso que tu eres muy cool y debes decir cosas como "too late" cuando los chicos mormones (todavilla en grado seis) preguntale cosas como asi. Algun dia, va a ser un hombre, con tu nombre written all over him que vive como un hombre. That was me practicing my spanish. And failing at times to do so. Don't judge me.

Sarita said...

Mi linda! Tu espanol es muy impresionante. Y tus sentimientos son bellisimas. Nunca haber pudiera juzgarte. A menos que te juezgo para decir que eres una mujer increible!

And my spelling is atrocious.

stace said...

Were you addicted to dancing with the stars because I want you to know I could totally win if I went on that show. All it takes is a hot dance partner and it all comes together...right?

stace said...

p.s. I am totally uncoordinated.

Sarita said...

Yes, I did enjoy that show. And having a dance partner that knows what he is doing can make all the difference. This guy from Nicaragua was teaching me to salsa and merengue. We were dancing with some pretty intense people, and I didnt feel THAT out of place. He even did a neck drop, and he's a little guy.