They Call me the Snapper

I love to dance... and so it is fitting that I explain why this is so. You see dancing for me is not just a way to express myself through music, it becomes a meditation, a fantasy and an escape. It was also good at annoying my way too cool teenagers, as their friends would come in see me whirling around the living room, snapping my fingers, shaking my hips, clapping and swinging my hair to and fro... like a schizophrenic on speed. I could see their embarrassment as they hinted with that teen disdain..  don't look at the weirdo. But usually at that point I was oblivious and immersed in my own brand of trance. I might start a warm up with some Rolling Stones, and I'm right on stage as a blond version of Tina Turner, jumpin around with Mick. Or I could get funky, as when I hear "Cowfunk" by Brandon Marsalis. I cannot NOT dance to that tune, as I sway way low with extra loud snapping of my fingers...mmnn mmmn, that's my favorite! Or maybe I'm in a Madonna mood, and want to be really expressive and interpretive. Then it's all Vogue baby. I even have special hand signs for the lyrics that talk about the Vogue- ers named in the song. I need a lot of room for this one as I do the pirouettes and ball change steps learned in a long ago jazz class. But sometimes, I just want to get rowdy and so it's Alan, Jackson, George Strait and Jimmy Buffet live.. and I'm at a dancing hoedown (and I can Woo-Hoo with the loudest of them.) You see in my world, I am right there with the performers, and the Furies in my mind finally shut up their mindless chatter. So look out Bono, I'm coming to "Vertigo" to clap, snap, sway and shimmy!