I’d rather dance with you

This is one of my favorite music videos — more often than not, I find myself feeling just like the little boy in the orange sweatshirt.

For example, in second or third grade, one of our lessons was on comparisons and voting. So, our teacher brought in a whole bunch of red delicious and macintosh apples, sliced ’em up, and told use to decide which ones we liked better. Rather than raise our hands or silently vote, she told everyone who liked the green apples to go to one side of the classroom, and everyone who liked the red apples to go to the other.

Guess who was the single, solitary person who chose the red apples? Yep. It was me. I remember very decidedly walking to one side of the room, while the other kids either did the same, or struggled somewhere in the middle. In the end, every. single. kid. chose the other side of the room. I struggled to hide this weird, awkward form of humiliation with a smile. Haha, not sorry, question mark?

As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough, my parents had a weekly ritual of peeking into my classroom every Sunday, after Mass — just to see if I had any artwork up, or to hear whatever stories I had from school for them. Sure enough, the apple tally was up on the bulletin board, something like “Macintosh: 32 students, Red Delicious: 1 student.”

My dad looked at me, and I’m sure my face gave it away, because he said “that was you, wasn’t it?” And I’m pretty sure that was the first time I ever experienced a tidbit of social anxiety. Or perhaps it was just a little social experiment on cliques and outcasts. As embarrassed as I was that no one else liked the red apples (or wanted to stand on the other side of the room alone, or wanted me to stand on the other side of the room alone) I’m pretty sure I haven’t changed much. Not sorry.

Anyway, happy Friday! I’m off to New York (yet again) for one last weekend away before I will hopefully spend the rest of my spring weekends outside and at the gym. Xo!