19 October - So you think you can dance

On occasion I feel a little sad. If our emotional scale can be ranked from one to ten, with ten being the happiest I've ever been and one being the saddest, I'd rate today as around a four. Just below content. No emotional reveal there, everybody sometimes feels a little sad. The reveal comes with the ways I choose to cheer myself.

As already discussed, I like to run to clear my head and get myself back to level again. I also like to call up friends who distract me from my dull first world problems and make me laugh myself happy. 

However, when the above fails to work, I occasionally engage in 'secret cheering behaviour'. Sometimes, when I'm feeling sad, I like to listen to Kenny Rogers' greatest hits on my headphones really loud. Specifically tracks two to four; 'The gambler', 'Coward of the county', 'Ruby, don't take your love to town', and 'Islands in the stream'. If the sadness rates a three or below, I also like to sing along to 'Islands' - doing both Kenny and Dolly's parts. The other thing I really like to do is dance, on my own, to anything by MIA or Primal Scream. Not so bad I hear you say. But, did I mention that I dance a little like this;

Specifically the Molly Ringwald character, but, with the Ally Sheedy twirl. (Just as a small aside, I always thought I was more Claire than Allison, but it's quite clear that I've been deluding myself for all these years).

Anyways, this ridiculously long preamble is leading to my night spent dancing in a Berlin closet. (Bear with me, I'll explain). No lights, no lycra is a concept started by a couple of Melbourne girls who - like me - love to dance, but prefer to do it as if nobody is watching. They took this idea and created a space where you, quite literally, dance in the dark. So, rather than inflict my downstairs neighbours with my solo Molly Ringwald impersonation, I thought I'd head to Krezberg to do it amongst some strangers.

I fronted to a bar bearing the address I'd written down, but, with no dancing in sight. 
'Wo ist Hubertuslounge?' I mumbled to the impossibly hip barman. 
'That is here. You want the party?' 
'Um, yeah, I guess'.
'Okay, just go through the closet and down the stairs'.
'The water closet?'
'No, the closet';

This is not a stunt hipster

So, I approach the closet and tentatively open the door;

Am I paranoid to be worried about entering basements in this part of the world?

So, down these outrageously narrow stairs I went. At the bottom I was greeted by an inoffensive beat and five bodies dancing in a very small room, completely hidden by the dark. 'Come dance', said a voice from the din.

And dance I did. I danced like Molly, I danced like Ally, I may have even danced a bit like Judd and Emilio. Thirty minutes later I was in a sweaty lather, full of love for my fellow humans, and wanting more. It was time to wrap up however, and I emerged from the basement at least two emotional points higher than when I entered. I then met a friend for dinner where we ate tasty food, had great conversation (about 30 seconds of it in German), and parted with the promise of a jog around Tempelhof airport on Friday.

On the Ubahn home, I consulted my iPod for the perfect end to what started out a pretty average day. Listening to Kenny at this juncture would potentially push me up to a nine on the emotions scale. Luckily the Smiths were on hand to bring me back to level again.