You and I Both.

The evolving story of a boy.

March 20, 2012 11:29 pm
This was soooo good.

This was soooo good.

July 26, 2010 3:01 pm
Music = Dance = Love = Life. It’s quite the statement. But it’s true. It takes a love of life, to put dance to music. People love to dance to live music. It takes love of music to bring dance to life. You can’t fake that shit. Music and dance are two of the most human things, since breathing and sex, that can ever happen to a person.  That music can destroy someone and put a them back together, as they were by song end proves: music is a powerful thing. 
 I know it’s true because everyone has a song. Everyone has that song. That song that you hear, and it’s like a time machine, it doesn’t even prepare you: when you’re hear it you’re automatically “back in the day”. Every time you nod your head, and every time your foot taps, or when you inexplicably lean back, or even just smile or purse your lips because you heard that Q-Tip flip remember. Whenever I tickle the keys on my piano, though not always so well, I sing a tune that says who I am at that very moment, or how I truly feel because it resonates well past my vocal chords. I feel it in ever drop of my existence. Every time I go to hip hop on Mondays and Tuesdays, no matter if my foot has been injured, or suffering from an arthritic flare-up I show. Because I remember.
We experience this statement throughout our life. We listen to the beat of our mother’s hear, or the music that they play from in the womb. We are cuddled rhythmically to soothe us, and some of us were sung to when it was bed time. We sang through school, and danced at those awkward proms. But nobody will ever know about those incidents when we are in front of the mirror, all by ourselves singing and dancing to that song that we openly love to hate in front of our friends. Mine was Baby One More Time. Someone’s, back then, was a I Wanna Hold Your Hand. And we see this pattern continue to our old age, where we sing and clap, when we can, because it reminds us or to have our many last dances with our spouses or children before it’s time to take that bow.
With every step I dance, or every note I sing, I try my very best to prove - every time - it’s so very lovely to be alive.

Music = Dance = Love = Life. It’s quite the statement. But it’s true. It takes a love of life, to put dance to music. People love to dance to live music. It takes love of music to bring dance to life. You can’t fake that shit. Music and dance are two of the most human things, since breathing and sex, that can ever happen to a person.  That music can destroy someone and put a them back together, as they were by song end proves: music is a powerful thing. 

 I know it’s true because everyone has a song. Everyone has that song. That song that you hear, and it’s like a time machine, it doesn’t even prepare you: when you’re hear it you’re automatically “back in the day”. Every time you nod your head, and every time your foot taps, or when you inexplicably lean back, or even just smile or purse your lips because you heard that Q-Tip flip remember. Whenever I tickle the keys on my piano, though not always so well, I sing a tune that says who I am at that very moment, or how I truly feel because it resonates well past my vocal chords. I feel it in ever drop of my existence. Every time I go to hip hop on Mondays and Tuesdays, no matter if my foot has been injured, or suffering from an arthritic flare-up I show. Because I remember.

We experience this statement throughout our life. We listen to the beat of our mother’s hear, or the music that they play from in the womb. We are cuddled rhythmically to soothe us, and some of us were sung to when it was bed time. We sang through school, and danced at those awkward proms. But nobody will ever know about those incidents when we are in front of the mirror, all by ourselves singing and dancing to that song that we openly love to hate in front of our friends. Mine was Baby One More Time. Someone’s, back then, was a I Wanna Hold Your Hand. And we see this pattern continue to our old age, where we sing and clap, when we can, because it reminds us or to have our many last dances with our spouses or children before it’s time to take that bow.

With every step I dance, or every note I sing, I try my very best to prove - every time - it’s so very lovely to be alive.