The Finale

This weekend I went to my college's ballroom club Homecoming social. Getting back on the floor, I was reminded of what I loved about it. At one point, I danced with a guy a few years my junior who is an excellent lead. I'm not even sure what we were dancing to Michael Buble - Silver Smooth Foxtrot? - but it worked. His effortlessly light but firm directions kept me in line and from stepping on his toes. Drawing on my own dormant skills, I could spin, rise, and fall elegantly. I know we looked good, and it felt like flying.

And then the dance was over, and I remembered everything I disliked about that club.

I am grateful for what it gave me as a freshman - comfort with my own body; awareness of muscles and movement I didn't know I had; confident self-expression; and even *gasp* physical contact with boys; albeit highly structured. Sadly, it failed to give me the close friendships I saw among other members. The dance world can be full of cattiness, judgment, vain preening, and obnoxious cutesiness.

There were three true friends there this weekend who were genuinely interested in hearing about my post-grad life. Otherwise, I looked around the room and realized I am only interested in what these people can give me physically - a fun dance experience. We have no deep personal connections, or really even superficial ones for that matter. And that's no basis for a healthy relationship. This Sunday, I told them goodbye for the last time. I don't think anyone even noticed I was gone.

Off to Colonial Fantasyland!

From 30 Rock, episode 205: “Greenzo” (Via the splendid Kirsten.)

Ohhh CW. It's not an actual time capsule, but rather a conversation about "suspension of disbelief," "public history and memory," and the Colonial Revival. When anthropologists write a book that discusses the decision to leave horse poop in the streets, you know you are in an alternate universe.

This August The Beau was a trooper and let me drag him all over town, but I could tell part of him was skeptical. Why on earth were my college friends and I so excited to walk down a street of not-actually-historic buildings in 90 degree heat?

I think because we are happily brainwashed by our experiences there. No matter how much time I have spent in Williamsburg, it never disappoints. Part of my heart will always reside in that little colonial hamlet-turned college town and haven for retirees. That is where I first lived on my own, where I became an adult, where my life changed dramatically. It's where my friends and I made tons of memories that we'll relive at Homecoming this weekend.

Plus, my little sister is now a costumed interpreter intern in CW! So we'll frolic down the pseudo-historic street singing this song.