Might As Well

You know how every so often, when you’re wandering about the city, you run into the person who’s missing a marble or two, singing or dancing to music that nobody else can hear?

It may come as a surprise, but lately I’ve been that person. Wandering around town with my MP3 player and whatever my music of choice of the moment is for company.

One of the art posters that has lived on my wall in a few different houses. I'm rather sad that it didn't make this particular move.

I started doing this awhile ago, though in fairness it started out not as an extension of or surrender to the music in me as much as an attempt to stay awake on the bus on the way home from the bar at half past stupid in the morning.

Lately, it’s been anywhere and everywhere. Part of it is the fact that in Korea, I get stared at. A lot. So I’ve got three options for dealing with it. One (favoured by many of my expat compatriots) is to ignore it, accepting getting stared at as an occupational hazard of being from somewhere else in a physically and culturally homogeneous country. The second option, the one I’m most often advised to try, is try to blend in. That one usually only works until I open my mouth, and in east Asia, not even up to that point.

There’s a third option. Be spectacular. If people are going to look at me anyways, I might as well be doing something worth looking at. There are plenty of spectacular things around. I can thank a friend for this particular epiphany. It happened last weekend at the bar.

I call Fridays “fried-days” not because of any latent leanings towards Catholicism, or any other urge to eat fish, but because of the usual state of my brain. After 30-odd hours of teaching over the week, plus the stresses of keeping myself fed, washed, and in clean clothes and an acceptably clean house (otherwise known as adulthood), it’s the perfect time to go to Korean class!

One benefit to having classes on Friday evenings though, is that when some contingent of the class goes out for a drink afterwards, I can actually go, in good conscience and everything.

That said, by the time we actually get to the bar, I’m usually practically catatonic, and easily mesmerised by the pretty moving lights of the music videos playing behind the bar. Last weekend, a Shakira video had me staring of into space when a friend interrupted my daze.

“If I could dance like her, I’d never walk anywhere again.” I laughed when she said this. How absurd, dancing everywhere? Can you imagine the looks people would give you? The more I thought about it though, the more I wondered what was stopping her from doing it now. I realized how much fun that could be. I love dancing. And around these parts, I get strange looks all the time anyways. So why not dance through life?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m no Shakira. My dance moves are most often described as “flailing like you’re on fire”. But it’s been awhile since I let that stop me from dancing when the music was loud enough (though occasionally with the aid of a little liquid courage). It’s not so much of a stretch to extend that to anytime, whether there’s music or not.

After all, I’m a fool whether I dance or not, so I might as well dance.

2 Responses to “Might As Well”
  1. Aunt Julie says:

    Sounds like a great idea!

  2. Uncle Jim says:

    Dance like nobody’s watching!

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