I bust out my moves at the bus stop, no big deal.

This post will be starring my friend NICK, who insists on being recognized in my blog.
I think the all-caps may have been my idea, but that is beside the point.

To start, let me explain my Thursdays:

Ethics.  Way too many words I don't know and haven't been taught, mushed together at 9:25 in the morning when I could really care less.  An hour and 15 minutes of boredom warring with exhaustion, warring with the need to be a good student (fading fast).

Constitutional Law: Supreme Court Cases.  Taught by other students.  In mumbled and often rushed tones.  Basically look it all up later, Pinterest now.

U.S. History: Professor has a heavy accent.  I don't know how many times I've gone over WWII in my life, but enough already.  Actively battling sleep.  Post-lunch food coma is threatening my consciousness.

American Cinema: Taught by the worst professor I have ever met.  You think watching movies is fun? Try a darkened classroom from 3:15-5:45, where really, you just have the perfect environment to nap.  And nap I do.  And then I deal with the guilt.  Whatever.

Then FINALLY: done with classes, about 8 hours later.
I get out of class and walk to the shuttle stop with my friend NICK.  And by walk, I mean dance.  And by dance I mean awkwardly flail my arms in happiness and attempt not to:

a. Drop my Kindle
b. Trip

I have so far been successful in my efforts.  I make no effort not to embarrass NICK, in fact, quite the opposite.
Luckily he's used to my antics from a semester of theatre with me.

Fast forward, I'm dancing to Britney Spears at the shuttle stop, straight up not giving a fuck.  I had this moment a couple months ago where I realized:

(Guys this is about as deep as I'm gonna go with this post so get ready)

You can work your ass off.  For days, weeks, years.  You can be everything anyone else ever wanted you to be.  You can. And those people? They can still treat you like shit.  And they will.

So what's the point?

The thing is: there isn't.  Living your life for other people is never okay.  Changing yourself for other people isn't okay.

It's hard.  We're taught from a very young age to meet certain standards to please certain people to get to certain places.  We're taught to bend, manipulate, and break ourselves.

Yeah, don't do that.

Enough.  If you feel like dancing to your music in front of a bunch of people, just do it.  It's none of their business how you run your life; you're not hurting anyone.
Sing in the shower.
Eat what you want.
Do what makes you feel good about yourself.

It's that simple.

So anyway,
I'm dancing to Britney Spears at the shuttle stop ("You Drive Me Crazy" for those who are curious) because it makes me happy.  My little dancing session is my reward for making it through my hellish day.

(NICK doesn't feel so rewarded, but he doesn't have to hang out with me if he doesn't want to, and he does.  So what does that say about you NICK?)

I don't stop dancing when I'm confined to a shuttle seat either.  Have faith friends, I find a way to dance there too.  To increasingly embarrassing music.  NICK looks over constantly and it's become a game to outdo myself every time.

Examples? I'll give you examples:

Baby One More Time
Bye Bye Bye
Baby Got Back
I Like to Move It
Dance (ASS)
I Just Had Sex
Hot in Herre
Ms. New Booty

....you guys get the gist.  There's no way not to laugh and smile when you're listening to that kinda crap. You feel ridiculous but you don't care.  Try it sometime, it's oddly liberating.

So if you're a Becker person and you see a girl smiling to herself and moving to her music, judge all you want.
Go for it.
I'm having fun with my life.

And you'll hear...softly in the distance...


booty booty booty booty rockin' everywhereeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee