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7-2-01 - 2:14 a.m.

Went to another club tonight, didn't get kicked out. I think once I can finally dance again, Noah and I are gonna end up being club junkies. He asked me if he could dance with this girl who had asked him to dance, and I of course said yes. Now, this somewhat disturbed me, and on two separate levels:

1) It disturbed me that he felt he had to have my permission to do something he wanted to do. Even if we were a serious couple-hell, even if we were married-I wouldn't want to keep him from dancing with somebody else just because I'm a gimp. I'm not that possessive, and I'm not that easily threatened.

2) It also disturbed me to watch him dance. He. Is. So. Freaking. Talented.

Which of course makes me want to saw off my cast even more, because I want to dance with him. And I don't mean doing "The Sprain" (Saved By The Bell reference-didja catch it?)...I mean getting out there on the floor with and showing the world what the MTV generation's made of.

I've been dancing my entire life. My mother, determined to have a perfect daughter, sent me to ballet and jazz/hip hop dance classes every week, and I grew up copying the moves of Janet Jackson and Paula Abdul, swearing I would be the greatest singer and dancer the world had ever seen. Dancing, to me, is such an important thing, and to finally meet a guy who shares my passion just blows my mind.

I mean, seriously...I'm such a dance freak I find myself walking in tempo with whatever song's in my head, occasionally adding a shimmy or sashay to my step. I've taught my friends the dance to the "Oops! I Did It Again" chorus (which is ridiculously easy) and have promised to teach Kellie how to do the "Crazy" dance. Janet and N Sync dances are my favorite, though. Watch the videos for "Rhythm Nation" (ahem..first dance I ever learned) and "It's Gonna Be Me" and tell me you aren't impressed...I love doing those routines.

It's not that I'm trying to sound excessively whiny; I just thought I ought to let my feelings known. So far this diary has been about my hypocritical semi-relationship with Noah and me bitching about having to wear a neon green cast for another two months. Once I get a life, I swear this will become more upbeat. Really.

 

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