I'm Adali Mone and this is The Slowdown.

Sometimes when I'm nostalgic for my past, I'm not actually nostalgic for my youth, but

for what I thought was my wisdom, for what I thought was my beautiful righteousness.

I knew so much about life.

I knew the problems with the world and I even knew some of the answers.

I knew that when you were too down to want to leave the apartment, you should actually

leave the apartment, or blast music as loud as you can to change your brainwaves.

I knew that hoop earrings could be a game changer and heavy eyeliner could make you look prettier

while crying.

I knew that if you danced, really danced in your bedroom, in your dance class, in the

community center, to the local band you liked, you'd start to feel a little better.

I miss my old certainty, my know-it-allness, my confidence, my teenage bluster, my

egotistical grandstanding.

But even though I might not feel like I know anything anymore, I do know that dancing still

helps me.

Full confession, I danced this morning, learned a whole routine, and really danced.

I do it at least twice a week, and if my body is in pain or my mind is in pain, dancing

is one of the ways I can find myself again.

I mean, I can dance in a chair, just sway a little, and it can help.

I remember once sneaking into a great old club in Seattle while I was under age, not

to drink, but to dance.

I had a boyfriend who was a DJ there, and he'd play records, and I'd dance all night long

...