Footloose in my head. Actually, I woke up with the entire opening sequence in my head. Maybe it was that movie that began my obsession with pictures of feet...in shoes, of course. Aack. the song is still in my head. What a great movie. Especially for the fourteen year old jek who saw it. I didn't dance when I was in junior high. I was too shy. We had dances all the time but I never went. Once I had finally made a friend in the ninth grade we plotted to go to a dance and I remember writing about it in my diary. I even sketched out the outfit I was going to wear in all of its pink & gray glory. I even think I planned on wearing my hair in a pony tail. A side pony tail. Oh wait, I just checked my diary and I didn't sketch it out, I did sketch out my plans for a Surf Punks Halloween costume. I loved the Surf Punks. Does anyone remember them or were they just a California band? Here's what I wrote about my outfit (errors and all). Apparently it was peach, pink & gray. Sheesh. Please note that I was fifteen and I am sure we were all little lumps of anxiety and self-pity:
"The Romance Dance for Valentines Day. I'm wondering if I should go? I guess I will. Even though I feel funny about he way I dance. Krista wants me to go. (But what should I wear?) I wish I was pretty! Oh, why couldn't I be pretty and have perfect eyes and teeth? Why? If I went to the dance I bet nobody would ask me to dance unless they were desperate! And if that weren't enough, I found out my grades for the year...History B, English A, Math C, Science D, Typing C and PE C. Bad! Terrible! Grotesque! Disgusting! and don't forget AWFUL!
Hullo again! I can't wait to go to the dance. (The dance is this coming Thursday, February 7.) I'm going to where a faded pair of LEVI'S with my peach & green & white striped shirt and the animal sweater that Lynda gave me plus my grey boots and pink socks, I sure hope I don;t make a fool of myself, and I hope there are dance tickets left! Nothing is happening so I guess I will ******Sign Of ****
I want to go see That's Dancing"
Of course I didn't go. I chickened out and then my mom was in the hospital. Seriously though, peach and gray and pink? The shirt was an oxford shirt with a white collar, I have no idea what the animal sweater was. It wasn't Animal from the Muppet show, I know that at least. My problem with dancing back then was that I grew up watching Elvis movies and while I did enjoy watching American Bandstand, I preferred to dance like a go-go dancer in Clambake and well, that was just weird. I got over my fear of dancing when I was around 16 or 17. The bulk of my dancing was done at the Goth clubs around Los Angeles with a bunch of early secret L.A. raves thrown in. I decided to go with my gut which ended up with me doing the swim or the twist at a goth club. It would embarrass my gothic almost-boyfriend who bedecked himself in velvet and lace. All in all we had so much fun back then. The mister and I dance. We don't go dancing but we dance. We dance in the living room, at the supermarket, on the street corner. One of our first non-dates was spent at the mister's place dancing to Vince Guardaldi a la Peanuts style. At our wedding, we polka'd and in the market we swing.
If only we weren't both sick right now I would pack up a picnic lunch and go to the park so we could eat, nap and swing dance under the eucalyptus tress. Make sure you make time for dancing. It is always a good thing.