A Guilty Pleasure

I went to happy hour at the usual hangout with Rebecca last night and we decided that despite everything we’re doing to get back to normal this week, we will never fully get over what happened. The best we can do is to get up and move on as best we can. With that being established, tonight’s post will be nothing but shallow and frivolous. Another way to move up and onward.

There’s this show…on FOX…a reality show…a competition show where America votes for their favorite competitor…I…can’t…stop…watching…it.

No, it’s not American Idol.

Let’s call it American Idol’s less-popular little sister. Mistaken for its wider known sibling, it dreams of being friends with the cool kids someday. But alas, it’s been thrown into the slums of summer reality TV, and it just may never reach Idol primetime status. But I love it none-the-less.

Oh yes, that’s right folks, I love me some So You Think You Can Dance?

I think, somewhere deep inside my psyche, the little girl who wanted to be a ballerina never died. The funny thing is, I never wanted to be a ballerina when I was a little girl. Yet, for some reason, I watch these people on this show and wish I could do all the dances they’re performing. Okay, I take that last statement back; I wish I could do everything but contemporary. Anything contemporary in the fine arts realm holds no appeal to me…but that’s a diatribe for a whole other post.

Where was I? Oh, yes…I wish I could dance. And not just going out on the dance floor and being able to move around to the beat without looking too much like a fool. I can do that just fine, thank you very much. I mean I wish I could waltz or tango, swing, dance around like a maniac to Broadway music (which also brings up a wish that I could actually sing…but I digress once again), tap, or even be able to do a little hip-hop (alas there’s no junk in the trunk to make that one happen).

This little voice in my head tells me I could be capable of doing it, but I have no means to find a way to prove that to myself. So, for now I will live vicariously through second-class summer reality TV. And when I’ve had my fill of dance, I can continue my first reality TV guilty pleasure…America’s Next Top Model. The only difference there is that I have no want or any ambition to take up modeling as a hobby.

You can all breathe a sigh of relief.