I was standing in the aisle at Sheetz, waiting to buy my hot dogs, hefting my ginormous jug o' Galliker's iced tea when I had an epiphany. I will never be a dancer nor learn how to dance.
(For those of you who know me personally, I'll wait for you to stop laughing at the thought of me as a dancer.)
Done? Not yet.
Okay, on with the blog.
I realized that I, a 'fluffy', 30'ish year old white woman would never be able to 'jate or pas de burre' with any skill. (I can spell 'em, I just can't do them.)
My epiphany was two fold: #1-there are things I now know I will never do in my lifetime, #2-I am close to middle aged.
#2 first (blogger prerogative). I am of an age that if I double it, I am close to when I might be near the end of my life. This is based on the average life span of women of 77.8 years. That means I am now middle aged. The problem? I don't feel like I am middle aged.
I feel like the 19 year old traveling from Berlin, Germany to a state college in a town with only 1 stop light. Unsure, excited, with endless opportunities and challenges ahead. Part two of the problem-I ain't 19...not even close.
#1 Dancing isn't the only thing I know, miracles notwithstanding, I probably will not do. If I don't get on with it, I will not write a book/screenplay/poem/song. I'll not learn how to roller skate/ice skate.
This epiphany makes me want to figure out how I really do feel. How to walk out this maturity and make the most of the time I have left. I know, fatalistic to be sure, but also realistic. I want to do things only dreamed of, to walk out journeys only whispered about in prayer, to be who I was created to be.
I need to learn to act my age. Whatever that means.
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