Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Kissing Wayne Gretzky
When I was little, when we went to visit my grandma back in the motherland of Canada, sometimes we'd go to her church. Which sounds all quaint and everything. And it was, in a way. Except that my grandma went to a Hungarian church. So the whole hour long service was in, you guessed it, Hungarian. And guess who doesn't know a word of Hungarian. Nekem. Which is of course Hungarian for me. Thank you google translate.
So in between sitting, kneeling and standing at the appropriate part of the service, which I would cue in on by watching what everyone else did, I found ways of entertaining myself. Specifically, I day dreamed. Or dreamt. Whichever is more grammatically appropriate. That's what I did. Oh, did I mention the priest looked like Balki from the tv show Perfect Strangers. And this was in the Dark Ages when it was still on tv, not bad cable repeats. So, I would create little stories in my head about Balki and Larry, among other weird things, to pass the time. This may actually explain a lot of my personality both then and now.
Because now, I find myself doing the same thing. Especially in belly dance class where they speak both French and Arabic. Which of course I do not. And that is totally fine with me. I just do the same thing I've always done. I watch people to figure out the social cues of when to sit, kneel and stand. Or omi, roll and shimmy, as the case may be. Then I just fill in the blanks I don't know by simply making up the rest. Which is a significant portion mind you. Until yesterday, I didn't realize I did this. Then, I was going through a belly dance cd my teacher burned for me and all of the songs are written on disc in Arabic. So, in order to find the song I want, I need to listen to them. Again, no biggie. But in flipping through the songs, I realized that I had made my own titles to the songs.
So this my friends is the song I refer to as Kissing Wayne Gretzky.
He said Wayne Gretzky. You heard it right? Ok and so I forgot how most of the dance goes. Whatever. That wasn't the point. Nor is it the point that I'm singing along, talking to myself and making ridiculous faces. And I would just like to add, thank god this song wasn't about kissing Balki. Cause that just would have been gross. Did I mention Wayne is also...Canadian.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have some day dreaming to attend to.