Posts Tagged ‘life’

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Are you sitting this one out?

December 3, 2011

I used to be the life of the party. Really. I’d take every opportunity to go dancing with friends. I’d never spend a Saturday night at home. Now it seems to be the other way around. I find myself wondering when all of that happened. I never saw it coming. It feels like I was only twenty-five yesterday and waking up this morning I’m supposed to be all grown up.

I no longer feel at home in disco’s nor do I want to stand there trying too hard to appeal to some guy. I used to spend hours there loving the overall vibe, now all it seems is noisy. All I ever wanted to do was dance the night away, now I actually want to engage in conversation.

It’s not that I don’t want to dance anymore because I plan on dancing all my life. Things have just shifted a little. I dance in the kitchen while doing the dishes or in my bathroom while getting myself ready for the day. I still enjoy it just as much.

I like sitting in my local bar or restaurant in good company and just chat away about anything and everything. I seem to have a lot more pet peeves than I used to. Does that mean I’m old and boring all of a sudden?
I like to think not. I find I can still be amazed at the little things in life and have childlike bewonderment. I want to believe opportunity will knock on my door plenty of times to come and that only now I’m coming into my own. So you see, I plan on never really growing old on the inside.

Maybe it’s time for me to do a different kind of dancing. You know, not sit this one out.
Not sit life out anymore. Ever.

Let’s dance.

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You Never Know

June 13, 2011

You’re having the best Sunday. Spending time with your loved ones. Having coffee and cake and then a little something stronger of course. Enjoying an all-smiles-and-laughter sunny afternoon. To round off a splendid day you decide to go watch a friend’s gig in the evening. Meeting up with lovely people. Great ambiance, good fun.
And right in the middle of a song, the drummer falls down and does not get back up. It’s funny for the first ten seconds ’till you see somebody perform CPR and you realize it’s not funny at all. People frantically running back and forth; somebody calling an ambulance and still it’s hard to acknowledge what’s actually going on because literally two minutes ago everybody was laughing and rocking out to the music.
You’re numbed and wonder why it’s taking so long for the ambulance to get here. And the CPR continues… precious minute after minute after minute. This roadie elaborates about how dear old Luc was actually experiencing heart problems for some time now (age 51) and all of his friends had been urging him to please make a doctor’s appointment but you know how that goes right? He’s so busy playing in different bands, holding down a job and being a volunteer for the local Red Cross (oh the irony) and nobody likes going to the doctor, do they?
The ambulance arrives and you see the paramedics getting the paddles out. You hear yourself saying:  “He’s not going to die here and now, is he? This isn’t really happening.” Band members are crying now. Others seemingly gaze into nothing. You’re getting teary eyed over somebody you don’t really know. These are the longest twenty-five minutes.
Police arrives and tries to block the view from people who keep popping up, trying to get up close, not wanting to miss one minute of this “sideshow”. Disgusting. By now your heart is pounding like crazy and your stomach’s in a knot. All the while you continue talking to the roadie who tries to keep the conversation going with the usual clichés. “Well, you see, you never know what’s going to happen next. And he’s so young. I guess he won’t be doing anymore gigs any time soon now.”
Finally the ambulance drives off. And you have no idea how Luc, whom you barely know, is doing. Friends running around phoning other friends and even more people showing up. You find yourself playing the little reporter and giving everyone who wants to, a rundown of events occurred. You tell your good friend you can’t go home just yet and you could really do with a beer right now. You do what you can. Console, comfort, give unsolicited advice. Anything to take your mind off how you’re really feeling.
After half an hour you decide you’ve calmed down now but then you find yourself having a little cry in the pub’s restroom. You emerge and your friend tells you she received a call telling her that Luc has a pulse and that he’s stabilized for now. So you ask if it’s ok we go get something to eat ’cause you’re starving? You do and you sit down and eat. Converse. Laugh even. After all of that you go home. You recall the roadie’s clichés. And you wholeheartedly agree that you really never know what’s coming next.

C A R P E  D I E M 

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