Do you remember? You were 5. They took you from your kindergarten where you were the oldest, and sent you to become the youngest in the new school. The one where all other kids already knew each other. You cried for your mother to stay, but she left you behind. You stood there. On the threshold, wanting to join their game of catch. You turned to the left, and you saw others as frightened as you. Frightened to take that first tentative step. You take the step, and everyone ignores you. You go back to the courtyard's end. You watch the other outcasts, on the threshold, too. You join them. A merry band of outcasts. You are enough introverts to get a sense of belonging.
Do you remember? You were 9. A party at a school-mate's house. Music, a pc (those old ones with the 5 inch memory disks). The girls on one side of the room, the boys on the other. You talk to your classmates that had just been indifferent to you up to that point. You are the king, you are on the top of the word, you are talking and being funny and people care! Haha! And the music gets louder. Your classmate's mother announces that you should all dance. And then you see the eyes of the girls, judging your every move. How dare you have been distracting the boys from them?
They come and take the other boys by the hand, organised, vicious. The camera zooms out and everyone is far away, dancing, perhaps involuntarily, perhaps not with a person of the opposite gender.
The rest of the night is spent watching the two kids that were, with precocity, turning into geeks, playing grand theft auto 1. You are on the balcony watching the plants, trying to hold on not to tear up. Asking for the classmate's mother to call your parents to come and get you.
Facing the other kids the next day.
Do you remember?
When at the school ball all kids were supposed to dance a waltz? You were one of the 3 the P.E. teachers chose to exclude.
Dancing by yourself indeed.
Again and again and again, a pattern emerged. The cool crowd and you at the threshold, waiting to come in the spotlight.
A party at high-school. The guys who hung out on the balcony, in the kitchen, in the garden, in the non-cool room.
Do you remember?
Do you remember sitting there doing karate meditation exercises?
No.
No. I do not. Was it yesterday? At some point I recalled all that, in the eye of a person I loved, I saw a threshold, and I was afraid to cross it. But now. I have forgotten.
In the land of the Free, in the state of Louisiana, I found the spotted cat. People were dancing swing. Unscripted, human, vibrant swing.
Not like the one shown above, but not far away.
Once again at the threshold. Drinking Sazeraks, and Ambers, and Catnips, watching people dance. Wanting to join them yet feeling I did not belong there.
Do YOU remember this?
No. Because I did belong. I went there, and danced. 25 years old, and I finally knew that it was up to me to decide where the threshold shall be laid. And for now it lays behind me.
And so, I now sing, sing, sing, swing, swing, swing.
Bring some comfy shoes.
See you on the dancefloor.
Do you remember? You were 9. A party at a school-mate's house. Music, a pc (those old ones with the 5 inch memory disks). The girls on one side of the room, the boys on the other. You talk to your classmates that had just been indifferent to you up to that point. You are the king, you are on the top of the word, you are talking and being funny and people care! Haha! And the music gets louder. Your classmate's mother announces that you should all dance. And then you see the eyes of the girls, judging your every move. How dare you have been distracting the boys from them?
They come and take the other boys by the hand, organised, vicious. The camera zooms out and everyone is far away, dancing, perhaps involuntarily, perhaps not with a person of the opposite gender.
The rest of the night is spent watching the two kids that were, with precocity, turning into geeks, playing grand theft auto 1. You are on the balcony watching the plants, trying to hold on not to tear up. Asking for the classmate's mother to call your parents to come and get you.
Facing the other kids the next day.
Do you remember?
When at the school ball all kids were supposed to dance a waltz? You were one of the 3 the P.E. teachers chose to exclude.
Dancing by yourself indeed.
Again and again and again, a pattern emerged. The cool crowd and you at the threshold, waiting to come in the spotlight.
A party at high-school. The guys who hung out on the balcony, in the kitchen, in the garden, in the non-cool room.
Do you remember?
Do you remember sitting there doing karate meditation exercises?
No.
No. I do not. Was it yesterday? At some point I recalled all that, in the eye of a person I loved, I saw a threshold, and I was afraid to cross it. But now. I have forgotten.
In the land of the Free, in the state of Louisiana, I found the spotted cat. People were dancing swing. Unscripted, human, vibrant swing.
Not like the one shown above, but not far away.
Once again at the threshold. Drinking Sazeraks, and Ambers, and Catnips, watching people dance. Wanting to join them yet feeling I did not belong there.
Do YOU remember this?
No. Because I did belong. I went there, and danced. 25 years old, and I finally knew that it was up to me to decide where the threshold shall be laid. And for now it lays behind me.
And so, I now sing, sing, sing, swing, swing, swing.
Bring some comfy shoes.
See you on the dancefloor.
1 comment:
Love.
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