It Happens Every Time

I'm such a sucker for it, you know? The people at Fox were thinking of me when they named the show.

So You Think You Can Dance?

And the slightly sad but totally honest answer, my friends, is

Yes.
I think I can.

Dangnabbit. I really think I can. Or, at least, I like to dream that I can. Every time SYTYCD begins its season (which it did this week), I watch, and I feel unsettled. My muscles tense and are ready, the wallflowers at the junior high dance yearning to be asked to step into the beat. I dissect the choreography, wondering at the meaning behind it. And my heart-- well, my heart bounces between appreciation and longing, with just a smidgen of jealousy.

The physical control... the demanding technique combined with the artistic expression... the combination captures me. I'm absolutely enthralled and I find myself wondering, "What if? What if I had trained? What if I hadn't quit those miserable ballet/tap lessons at the age of 13?
What if I hadn't written off those swing dance lessons in college in favor of... I don't know what. Probably doing absolutely nothing. What if I could remember all those line dances I performed when I worked at that restaurant the year following high school graduation?"

What if?

You're thinking it's not too late, right? I know that. Dance lessons are on my list, tucked safely between earning my MBA and becoming fluent in Spanish. But every season, this silly little show causes it to move up a notch, and just for a while, I Think I Can Dance.