The American Lean

I can't stop leaning to the left in my office chair.

I’m in a receptionist chair at an HR Block in Colorado and my posture is atrocious. I keep catching myself leaning to the left, contorting my spine to rest on my elbow. I correct my posture every time I notice it, but I’m always back on my elbow fifteen minutes later. Maybe it’d be better to stand, but I’m connected to the phone through a headset and have to sit down when people pick up so it’s fruitless. I sit down, lean to the left, and pick at the orange my boss leaves on my desk every morning.

My favorite way to be is moving. Dancing, walking, yoga-ing. I long for the days when I was 14 years old, in a dance studio all day long at a ballet intensive, learning the Nutcracker in the middle of July.

Every November, I'd rehearse a Christmas vaudeville special. We'd run the 30-minute dance spectacular late into the evening until the windows of the studio were foggy from our effort.

I long to make the windows foggy with my effort again.

Someone, lock me in a room and make me move all day. Let me.

Back then, goals weren't for now and so life felt unencumbered. The only thing urgent was my desire to be loved and seen and wanted, easily filled by weekends in cars with boys, and evenings dancing with my friends until our instructors were satisfied. 

Now, I move only for moments of the day. Maybe an hour or two. 

And so as I lean to the left in my office chair I imagine a million different possibilities for myself that are less steady. At least I'd be moving. I'd be moving!

But then, the urge to sit still has also begun to haunt me. Sitting still is a luxury I've been afforded I guess.

Make a movie. Get a job. Write things down. Don't waste time. Kiss. Love. Cry. Feel sad. Drive the car and move the seat back before you get out. Think about all the people dying. We're doomed we're doomed and here I am helping people file taxes. At least every day I get a nice little orange.

Happy Valentines Day xoxo