Habitionism

Spring break of my sophomore year was spent hanging out with my British roommate Sacha Rattle in San Francisco. While there, as we were both avid swing dancers, we did a lot of dancing, and met a lot of fellow dancers and had many an opportunity to hang out, chill out and discuss import, non-swing related ideas and theories.

On one Sunday afternoon the topic of inhibitions came up. For any non-social dancers out there, it can be intimidating as hell to ask someone you know is a better dancer than you to dance with you in a partner dance - especially as a lead. Our inhibitions take control, and 98% of the time soundly defeat us. We dance with others, but are often left unsatisfied and regretful at the end of the night because of our own cowardice. And why? For what? Dancing with people who are "not as good" as us makes no difference to us, and yet we think "they" care. In the moments of decision, we forget that the point is just to have a good time dancing to the music you love. Instead, our inhibitions hold us back.

And so the idea of "habitionism" was born - the idea that our own inhibitions should never stop us from doing something we would love to do. A banner to rally behind, a word of inspiration, confidence and courage. As simple as, "Should I? Yes - I should be a habitionist!" et voila - you're dancing with Frida.

And so, we come to blogging. Did I want a blog? No. I was afraid that it was self-indulgent and presumptuous. Who am I to say that my life is worth writing a blog about? Or my thoughts worth writing anywhere else besides my journal, a small black books that is, in a default situation, off limits to all but myself? Who am I to say that others will be interested in my experiences of life?

But then recently I realized how much I appreciate the stories and thoughts of others, in all their forms, at any time. And I think this is the one amazing thing about us all. We all have stories to tell, and thoughts to speak, and one advantage of globalization is the greater ability we have to share these stories, and in so doing learn so much more about ourselves and our condition as humans. Ok, that was presumptuous. The point is this - there have been times in the past when I've been frustrated looking at a freeway. I see so many cars, and I know they're filled with so many people, and I know that every single person in each care has a story, a set of life experiences completely different from anyone else, and yet I can't fathom it. My mind can't do it. I can't comprehend it. I want to hear their stories.

But who am I to want to hear the stories of others while being to afraid to share my own? Who am I to read the blogs of others, with great joy, and be unwilling to step up to the task myself?

And so here it is. A blog. Some stories and thoughts, to those whom it concerns, for what they're worth.