all_star tender_square “you’re such a star,” michael often says to me. “tell me the story again,” he asked this morning. “i was in the passenger seat dancing and singing to smash mouth’s ‘all-star,’ on the way home from school. i had a move for everything.” i demonstrated this by going through the motions: the swish of the invisible basketball, the unseen dollar bills i rubbed through my fingers, the cascade of waving hands for glitter and gold. michael smiled. “we were at a stop light and i looked over to my right and a really hot guy saw the whole thing and was laughing.” i had been fifteen; i stopped and burned red through the window. i may have even given him an awkward mini-bow in acknowledgement, before the traffic light switched green and he sped off. brea and mom and i couldn’t stop howling after. i remember feeling a mix of embarrassment and surprise at the time. here i was, pretending to be ‘normal’ around boys at school, never showing how much of a goofball i really was for fear of being rejected. and yet, there was a college-aged guy who saw it all and seemed delighted by the enthusiasm and commitment i brought to my performance. michael looks at me the same way in the car; it happened today when—you guessed it—smash mouth came on lithium. this time it wasn’t “all-star,” but “walking on the sun.” i sang my heart out and swayed my torso, did all sorts of movements with my hands. i looked around at the other drivers stopped at the light, all serious and straight-laced for their commutes to work. i can’t help myself; even on a gloomy day, whether i’m the driver or a passenger, i love singing and dancing in the car. 211025 what's it to you? who go blather from