Jiggy

What happens if I stand up in this coffee shop and just start dancing? If I stretch my arms up over my head, and wave them back and forth, take a step or two forward and then three steps back? If I turn really slow and then bring one arm down? What happens if for a minute I let go, if I defy the social 'norms', and do what I feel? Because that is how I feel today. I feel like there is an energy boxed inside of me that needs releasing. When I go for a run, and I'm listening to music, sometimes I casually raise my arms above my head and pretend like I'm stretching, when really I'm dancing. I'll swing my arms forward and back, to pretend like I'm shaking out stiffness, when really I'm moving my body to the beat of a song. And when none of that satisfies my urge, I'll just try to keep my feet on the ground as little as possible, letting my toes touch the ground only for a split second before releasing them into the air, and I'll try to capture that moment when neither of my feet are on earth, but I'm moving. Running is the man's versions of flight, I think. And it is just about the only sensation that satisfies my constant need to dance. Because that's what it is. I'm addicted to moving my body. When I'm home alone in Oxford, I practically do all my tasks with a little jiggy. I'll flock my arms like a chicken as I walk over to the fridge. When I bend down to get a plate from the cupboard below the sink, I pause a second or two and shake my booty, just as sexy as Beyonce (only in baggy PJs). When I stand at my closet to decide which shirt to wear (though I always end up wearing the same two), I'll bring my knees down and up, alternate between moving my hips right and left. And if I'm walking over to the chair by the fire, I'll do a full-on turn in the middle of my living room. Sometimes there's music playing, but most often there isn't. Is that weird? I'll catch myself every once in a while doing sporadic dance moves when its dark outside and my light is on. I think the residents in the apartment complex across the street must think I'm a little crazy. But what can you do when there's a jukebox trapped inside of you?