Dance I said

A combination of cabin fever, Oprah, and some old blog posts of mine got me out of the house and onto the dancefloor Friday night.

I stayed home from work for the second day in a row still feeling sniffly and shitty, but a little bit better than the day prior. Still, being stuck indoors, incapacitated, and feeling like crap is a recipe for madness. My mind constantly craves stimulation and my body needs to get up and out and around into the world from time to time.

I hopped onto my new best friend YouTube, and came upon a clip of Oprah on "Larry King Live" discussing that book "The Secret". It's a bit hokey and gimmicky for my tastes, but she talked about how the book's theme is what she's been trying to get across all this time, which is that what you put out there is what you get. Karmic energy, basically.

I can get down with that.

Then I took to reading some old blog posts of mind from 2005. In my memory, this was a difficult time that involved my recent break up from Sean and my subsequent move to Treasure Island, where, after a month of living there, one of my roommates moved out and I had to cover his part of the rent. It was rough and tough, but I made it through. And I danced despite all of this. I went out clubbing and still had a good time.

I can't tell you how much I love house music. I've innately loved it for as long as I can remember even though I grew up in a very white, straight environment. I can remember hearing Technotronic's "Pump Up The Jam" on the radio in the car and just feeling it. Or when the cheerleaders would perform their little routines to those awesome techno mash-ups at pep rallies in high school, I would get goosebumps. Before I could even get into clubs, I loved club music. In fact, I didn't realize that most people go to clubs to hook up. I just thought they went there to dance. That was all I wanted to do.

And I used to go all the time. To the End Up Friday nights, Universe or the Stud on Saturdays, and back again to the End Up for the T-dance on Sundays. Since moving to Nob Hill, which is closer to the End Up and the Stud than I've ever lived before, my clubbing habits have dramatically decreased. The last time I went to the End Up was in June, and I was accused by a security guard of groping some chicks, which was ridiculous. I've also become a little more self-conscious in my old age, and am less willing to drag my chubby ass on my own to the club without someone to come with.

But I never used to care that much about how I looked since there will always be someone more gorgeous than you regardless. And since the separation debalce with Gideon in September, I think my energy may be a little stand off-ish, which just doesn't suit me. Plus I was sick as fuck of being indoors.

So I took myself out, had a few cosmos, danced under the disco ball lights, and had a blast 'til well nigh 2:00 am even though I was still a bit sniffly. I don't regret it for a second, and really think I should do it more often. You put out there what you get, and I just wanna dance.

Oprah told me to.