The GGA Project -- Day #62 "Electric Achy Breaky"

Tonight I found myself at The Saddle Rack again.  Forget the fact that it's supposedly a country bar.  It's the only club of any substantial size that has a dance floor and that I don't have to drive 40 minutes to get to.  That's something for a woman who likes to get out and dance now and then.


I'd met my friend Jenn for dinner beforehand, and then we boot scooted our way over to the honky tonk.  Sorry, I don't have many tools in my country talk toolbox, so work with me.


The club was kind of a dud tonight, mainly because there just weren't enough people there.  There's no better vibe kill than a warehouse-sized nightspot that's only 1/3 full.  To be there, you feel kind of like a loser....one of only a handful of people with that dumb idea for the night.


Regardless, we were already there so we wanted to make the best of it.  At one point an impromptu line dance group formed out on the dance floor, and within moments everyone who was not prepared to do that line dance immediately escaped.


Jenn and I watched for a little while, and then she said, "Go ahead on out there.  I want to watch you make a fool of yourself."


"Me?" I said, "Why don't you go?!"


Only one solution.


Today's New Activity: Country Bar Line Dancing


On the far left of the dance floor was a fully outfitted cowgirl who seemed to be leading the pack.  To the right of her were nearly equally skilled dancers who knew all the moves, just not how to do them quite so smoothly (or in Daisy Dukes).  The middle of the pack was populated with people who mostly knew what they were doing, but who occasionally tripped up.  Off to the right were the beginners, who were busy watching the others for their cues, and as a result got completely tripped up every time a turn happened and they could no longer see the leaders.


Off to the far, far right--and fittingly so-- were Jenn and I.  This section was reserved for the handicapped and their service animals, the stumbling drunk, and those just too complacent to bother learning the dance in earnest, which is where we came into the whole thing.


Here's the thing about line dancing--the reason I just can't find the energy to care: I don't get what the payoff is.  I mean, even if you manage to master all the moves, how is that fun?  Now you are just one in a big military-like formation doing all the same moves at the same time.  I mean, maybe it's the appeal of doing something right, or the camaraderie of doing something as a group that appeals to people, but I'm just not feeling it.


The thing is, have you ever seen somebody line dancing who looks like they're having fun?  I don't believe I've ever seen a line dancer smiling.  They actually look kind of stressed out, like it would just be the most mortifying thing ever if they were to mess up.  Good thing Jenn and I got over THAT!  I don't think we got a single move right.  Eventually we stopped trying and just kind of shimmied around a bit, laughing at ourselves, which was fun enough.


I'll definitely be back to The Saddle Rack, just not maybe all that soon.  A $15 cover charge is way steep for a hit-or-miss scene.  But it's always good to succeed at dragging out my gal Jenn, who can sometimes forget she's not actually a 78-year-old shut-in.  :P

The GGA Project -- Day #40 "Let's Just Put and End to This"

It occurs to me that there are going to be days when the new thing I take on will be of absolutely no interest and/or carry no significance, to anybody aside from me.  Hahaha....maybe most or even every day is like that.  But you know, what?  I'm okay with that.  Because really, WHAT is going on in a woman's life when she decides--after something as mundane as a plate of gnocchi--to commit to an entire year of daily new activities?  One would certainly have to assume that she was experiencing a something.  And that something may be a bit of a solo journey of exploration, no matter how many friends are invited along (and so totally welcomed and appreciated, I add).


If I were a man and a smidge bit older it might just smack of mid-life crisis.  But I wonder about that term.  Maybe what we've all along been calling a mid-life crisis would more appropriately be called a mid-life awakening.  Mid-life kick in the ass?  That has a nice ring.


Anyway I would like to think I'm way too young to be having a mid-life anything.


I do imagine that one day I will be drawn to write more specifically, perhaps feverishly--over the course of a single week and in one long, unrolling spool of typewriter paper, all On the Road-like, about the circumstances that brought me to this place where I now stand.  It's hard to imagine I won't.


This project of mine is all about experiencing new aspects of life and enjoyment, yes.  But it is also very much (and in fact more) about reclaiming my autonomy, my sense of what is normal and how totally OK it is to want to live life doing the things one enjoys, and about my desire to see how different approaches to life and problems will help me on this path of healing and rebirth I'm a-traveling.


For now, I hope anyone reading this will forgive my occasional forays into vaguery and metaphor, because this was another one of those days that was just really all about something that was important and crucial to me in terms of breaking a pattern, but which I won't get into details on.


Today's New Activity: Thank You and Good Night


For the past few months I have been allowing myself to get caught up in a complex pattern of manipulation from time to time, even though I had taken the major step necessary to end its occurring on a daily basis.  Today, however, I finally, finally, finally, when faced with the prospect of a repeat incident, felt the overwhelming strength and complete resolve to put an end to it, right in the moment....to end the conversation, exit the situation, and protect myself and my son from the negative exposure that might have otherwise followed.  It was a refreshing and empowering feeling, followed by a complete lack of second-guessing or guilt.  All very, very new to me.


I feel like the work experience from two days ago was something of a warm-up, a preview to coming attractions.  My Mom especially, and other supportive people in my life, have always told me about the change that takes place when one finally decides to make this important shift...the taking back of one's personal rights and power.  I now wish I would have listened years ago, because I never would have imagined how different and good it would make me feel.


And I have to give a big big shout out to my friend Jenn, who will probably never read this since she's such a luddite.  But she has been one of three very important "goons" in my life (my Mom and Nicole being the other two) these past few months, always willing to go to the mat on my behalf and shake some sense into me when I was letting my judgment get clouded by the murky fog of manipulative control I was heretofore absurdly susceptible to.  I had called Jenn on my way to my encounter with the would-be difficult meeting; I was in search of a bit of guidance and moral support.  Like a pro, she came through.  I don't know that I've ever been happier to make a phone call (aside from the "I'm pregnant" calls I made when I was) than I was to make the "you would be so proud of me!" call I made to her afterward to tell her how it went.  And she was...proud of me.


More crucial though, to myself and to the Mama who's trying to set an example...I was and am proud of myself.


And afterward I was feeling just happy enough to catch a late movie with some pals in a state of absolute mental liberty and gratitude.


Good good, very good day.