This week, I had a dance performance.

I know what you’re thinking, “Oh no. She’s back to doing that weird ‘I know what you’re thinking’ bit again.”

Yes, I am awfully clumsy for a dancer. But wasn’t Luke awfully short for a stormtrooper? And that didn’t stop him being barely featured in the last Star Wars movie. I think you get my point.

Sure, I do fall down a lot. Yes, it is hard to pretend it is a choreographed fall when I am dancing with a troupe of people on the stage and I am the only one on the ground.

But what I lack in uprightness, I make up for in hutzpah.

‘Hutzpah’ is the noise I make when I unintentionally bellyflop onto the stage.

I feel I missed my true-dance-calling, which should have been Modern Dance. I have a friend who does Modern Dance and after careful study, I have noticed that she spends a lot of time falling to the ground dramatically and then crawling around down there, which she says is an expression of her feelings towards humanity’s conformity. When I crawl around like that, it’s because I managed to hit my shin while falling and I’m not sure that leg is ever going to work again.

And also that I don’t like conformity.

And I don’t care for some parts of humanity. Shins, for example.

Unfortunately, I didn’t choose to pursue Modern Dance. I went more traditional. Well, not uber traditional, like waltz. And not Uber like the car service. (Although how cool would it be to be able to get on your phone and say, “I’m at the corner of 5th Street and Steve Avenue and I really need a dance partner. Can you send me someone to salsa with in the next ten minutes?” Someone make that company.)

Come to think of it, I might have been better off doing something traditional like waltz. At least then I’d have a partner who I would be able to hold onto. That way either I wouldn’t fall or we would both go down. Then I’d at least have someone to talk to while I was lying face down on the stage, trying to catch my breath after a particularly large hutzpah. I could ask him how he feels about conformity.

I dance off-Broadway. That means, if you were to be visiting New York City for the first time, get lost on Broadway and end up in Canada, you might see me dancing.

(Full disclosure: I don’t actually live in Canada, but Canada is funnier than where I live. Also, I’m hoping if I mention them enough, they will sponsor my blog.)

(It’s the same reason I use the name Steve so much. Maybe then Steven Spielberg or Steve Bieber or Steve Trump will sponsor my blog.)

But enough about how great and generous Canada is, you silly Steve.

I have been dancing for years now. Unfortunately, I have been falling down my whole life, so I am still more gifted at that than dancing.

I know what you’re thinking: “No, you clearly don’t.”

Of course it’s embarrassing when I fall down in the middle of dance. But I have found a way around that.

After every show when the organizers come to thank our dance troupe for our performance or sometimes ask for a refund, I shake their hand and say, “Thank you so much for having us. I have wanted to be a dancer my whole life, but people always said I was too clumsy. Well tonight, I finally made my life-long dream a reality!”

Everyone loves an underdog. It never fails to make the organizer tear up a little and then they always say nice things like, “You danced like an angel.”

Which I graciously accept with a “Yes, I know. I also accept tips.”

So if you ever happen to see me dancing, please don’t give away my secret. I’ll split my tips with you.

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