Dancing is my superpower. No seriously. I sort of joke around when I say that but I'm also kind of telling the truth. Give me a dancefloor, a small crowd, and some swinging music, and you can bet your sweet bippy I'll be there shaking my tailfeather. Funk, disco, hip-hop, rock, 60's French pop, garage punk, it's all good. As long as there is a groovy danceable beat, I am in hog heaven. I could dance 5 or 6 nights a week if New York City allowed me to do so (damn Cabaret Law). My first recollections of dancing was when I was a kid, about 8 or so. I learned all the dance steps to "Beat It" and "Thriller". As the years rolled on, I added to the resume of learned pop-star choreography Janet Jackson's "Rhythm Nation", MC Hammer's "U Can't Touch This", and the entirety of Madonna's Blond Ambition tour. I also recall how in 4th grade, a few classmates and I would sneak into empty classrooms and breakdance (I kid you not).

The author shakin' it at a Fader Magazine party	And other people know me as a dancer (one read-through of my MySpace friend comments and you'll know what I'm talking about). I've even made friends because they've come up to me to tell me how great my moves are. Once at this bar, some girl I'd never seen before approached me to try to get me to dance with her because she had previously seen me doing my thing at a party. More recently, a guy told my friend that I was the best dancer he'd ever seen. And watch out if there is an empty go-go platform because soon it will be inhabited by my size 6 vintage-booted-feet. Now, none of this is meant to be boastful. We're all good at something, dancing happens to be mine (it's one of the few things I know I can do well). But just booty bumpin' several times a month in downtown NYC clubs wasn't enough for me. For years, I'd been just dying to take a real hip-hop class but I'd never gotten up the nerve to do it. The idea of being in a class environment was a little intimidating. Plus, I didn't know what my skill level was. Yes, the ability was there, but could I pick up choreography if it was thrown at me? The thought of being blind-sided and befuddled wasn't too appealing (I tried Darren's Dance Grooves and it's not as easy as it looks). But I also thought that it would be a good work-out and a nice departure from the elliptical machine.
So in all of my New Years resolve, I was determined to hit a classroom dancefloor. I aksed myself, "How hard could it be?". I never had too much of a problem learning from MTV. Plus, I used to take the most intricate and difficult step aerobics class that Gold's Gym had to offer and was one of the best. So I made a pact with myself and did it. I picked my class, jumped on the subway, paid at the front desk, and walked into the dance studio. I decided to go to the intermediate class because I thought the beginner class would be boring. The group ended up being half dance students (you know, REALLY ANNOYING jazz dancers who want to expand their repertoire) mixed with people like me. My newness to this type of environment caused me to hang back which wasn't the best idea. The class of less that ten quickly ballooned to over thirty halfway through the warm-up as my self-confidence quickly deflated when everyone seemed to know every move already. And this was just the warm-up! As the dance portion of the class got underway, it was clear I was out of my element as I turned into a deer in headlights. Besides the music being too loud, my view being obstructed, and my dislike of an instructor who refused to crack a smile, I could not keep up. At all. After trying the first 16 counts, I just stood and gave up, watched everyone else, and wanted to crawl into a little hole and DIE! I left halfway through (and I believe a Roadrunner style cloud of dust was left in my wake). Not that the actual steps were anything hard, the teacher just moved too fast (plus, she was kind of a meanie which I didn't need when all I wanted was to have fun). Worst part was, by the looks of some of those people, I should have been better! They picked-up the moves much better than I did, but many lacked natural groove. And yeah, those jazz dancers kept up, but they had NO SOUL! It was frustrating to say the least. I felt sort of like the really smart kid in school who got bad grades because he was dyslexic. So I've diagnosed myself DANCE-LEXIC: I've got great rhythm but the technical stuff gets all mixed up. This all reminded me of my first couple years of college. Fashion design was my passion and my dream since I was wee. I finally made it to college, ready to show my stuff, to prove how great I was. But that first sewing class? Good god, that was dreadful. In a single classroom stuffed with 35 wannabe designers, the professor showed us the basics of sewing. The other students seemed to all pick it up much better than I did. Pattern drafting and draping were no different. In the design and drawing classes, however, I excelled showing that my artistry was indeed still intact. But a funny thing happened as the semesters rolled on: I started to get it. As students started dropping out of the increasingly difficult fashion program, the class of over thirty whittled itself down to six by senior year. Eventually, my skills caught up with my creativity and I was one of the few left standing by graduation (I even got singled out in the student fashion show review in the Philadelphia Inquirer). These days, sewing is second-nature to me and I actually do it for fun. Fancy that. But back to dancing. The dance center made me buy two classes since I paid with a credit card. So unless I want to waste $14, I have to go back. I had thought of taking a pilates class instead. However, that just seems like a cop-out (and anyway, a single pilates class won't do much for my body). So I've decided to try it again. One more time. I'm hoping that if it goes well (or at the very least, better than last time), that maybe I'll be intrigued enough to attend the next class. Then maybe, just maybe, it will get easier for me to pick-up steps so that eventually I'll have fun (which was the idea in the first place anyway). And who knows, maybe learning choreography will become second-nature so then I can properly pop-n-lock to my heart's content. Just show me the way to the beginner's class, please. Thank you.