Spastic dancing

Anjakan paradigma!

I hate speaking up in tutorials. The nerves,man. Stuttering and stumbling over words, forgetting basic sentence structure, the shaking hands, the trembling voice, the thudding heartbeat. You'd think that that one time I won a story-telling competition for my age category hosted by Ribena and held at Cheras Leisure Mall when I was small would have cured the heebie-jeebies. But no,I am loath to participate in class discussion. Perhaps it's the topic matter, perhaps it's the lack of understanding, maybe it's the language barrier (e.g:in french class, I usually spend half the time staring blankly at my teacher, and the other half staring at my book so she wouldn't call on me to try and answer her question because I have nearly no idea what she asked me to do in the first place), maybe it's the self-esteem.

But, I have endeavored in the past week to try and change this. I contributed! Trembling as I did so, I admit, but still. I am trying to overcome the shaking hands. Award self 2 effort points.

I have now established a rule. If we're going to be friends, you're going to have to love this song and have the ability to do some crazy spastic eighties dancing to it. It's either spastic dancing or we can't be friends.

Award self 2 giving-ridiculous-ultimatums points.

I hardly ever actually use the word 'cheers' when speaking.

I wish there was club, a nightclub, that played spastic-dancing music(maybe there already is. Someone take me there!). My dream play list would include 1901 and Lisztomania by Phoenix, Boys of Summer by The Ataris, Keep the Car Running by Arcade Fire, My Party by Kings of Leon, No Tomorrow by Orson, I Feel it All by Feist. The dress code would be comfort chic, high heels would be forbidden(allowing spastic dancing in heels is just hazardous and a lawsuit waiting to happen), people are expected to wear something comfortable that makes them feel good. Water would be provided for free, and there would be ample dancing space, a HUGE dancefloor. There would be no epileptic inducing lights, and plenty of seats. Doors would open early, none of that only after 10pm business.

My sister mercilessly tormented me with stories of how bloody awesome Kings of Convenience were at their gig in KL. I was metaphorically sobbing with jealousy at one point, but it's ok. I know I'll get my chance to see them someday. I am fated to meet Erlend Oye. And he is fated to hear me scream at him adoringly. It's our destiny.

Be happy, snickerdoodles.