dance your way to world domination

Not really.
I wanna talk a bit about dancing.
I am 33 years old. Up until this year, I was the kind of person who only danced when drunk, and I hardly ever got drunk.
I talked a little bit about how I started, in this video:

For anyone who doesn’t feel like watching it, I lived in a house in the San Fernando valley for a brief period of time, this past fall- part of a foiled plan of mine to escape that abusive relationship I mentioned in that last post (before I got my shit together and just reached out to my family, whom I am living with, now!).

In this house lived a mangy macaw, name of Sarge.
Sarge fascinated me.
He would mimic the people who lived there sometimes- so, when I was there alone, I began mimicking him.
Mimicked his sounds, mimicked his movements.
At first, he clearly just didn’t know what to think of this strange human, who was acting so differently from the others!
But then– then he got excited.
He’d bump his head, up and down- and it almost looked like he was dancing!
So I began trying to find what kind of songs he liked.
And it was clear when he liked something.
He really liked old school hip-hop, but his favorite song was The Salmon Dance, by the Chemical Brothers (no joke! It was so wonderful to watch this macaw, dance to a song about salmon!!).
When a song came on that he did not like, he’d ostentatiously walk over to the other side of the platform he liked hanging out on, and begin studiously avoiding me, as he looked for nuts to crack.
But if I changed it, put on a song he liked- he’d walk back- and he would dance.
He’d bob his head, increasingly frenetically, and spread his wings, in time with the music.
And he loved it when I danced with him.

We actually had a couple of house dance parties, as Sarge’s love for dancing had been unknown to the inhabitants, until then!
I couldn’t help but feel better, whenever I danced with Sarge.
There were a couple times I was grumpface, and dragged myself over to where he was hanging out, set up my little portable speaker, and told him: “Alright, Sarge. I’m having a bad day, so we’re gonna dance, now.”
By this time, however- I had already embarked upon my quest to Build a Better Brooke, and so, recognizing the boost in mood I had received from having these kinds of dance parties, I began dancing while at home, while I cleaned out my parent’s garage and then taught myself how to restore/finish their old work bench.
Keeps my energy up, keeps my momentum going, and keeps me having fun.
How about:



I spent three years living on the street in Los Angeles. I came out of that, changed. This is my story.

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