Last night I sat on my sofa and watched Law and Order: Criminal Intent). Then I got up and went to Bally’s so I could attend a fitness class I’ve been curious about. For an hour I learned hip hop dance moves from Regan Farag, a professional choreographer. It was pretty good. Usually I don’t like dance classes because I like dancing. I love dancing. Dancing for me is complete abandonment to the way my body parts feel like moving to the music. It’s mindless; I’m completely focused on the music; there’s an escape velocity that I reach and it goes on and on.
A dance class requires standing still while the teacher teaches, and only moving in an attempt to get the moves “right.” To me, getting moves right precludes real dancing. In dance classes I haven’t found a take off point at which it’s time to just go. Dance classes usually disappoint me and I avoid them.
I didn’t think Regan’s class would be a dance class. I thought it would be some aerobic workout and I wanted a change from my usual routine, so I tried it. But it was a dance class, but it’s okay because it turned out to be the only dance class I’ve taken that included just going. Regan called it “freestyling,” but it meant just moving to the music however you wanted to, in between going through the moves she taught us. I had fun and it wasn’t a bad workout and I get so bored doing the same thing every day that I might take the six week course.
Then I came home, sat down on the sofa and turned the tv back on.
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