8 am Dance Party

I have finally managed to get my sleep cycle back to something resembling normal after pulling an all nighter last week in a vain attempt to finish a paper. Now that I wake-up in the morning, as opposed to the evening, I find that there is not much to do. The sun has still not risen enough to avoid dying from the cold, and the television stations seem to have something against playing anything interesting at the start of the day. Today I decided to take matters into my own hands. I searched through my extensive cd collection and began to make a mix cd, but not just any mix cd - a dance party mix cd. Actually, there is nothing spectacular about my dance party mix cd, except that the songs I have carefully placed on it are ones that inspire my to shake my ass (or at least what ass I can find to shake) and sing out loud. I am a great dancer... alone in my room. When you dance in front of other people there is a certain need for silly notions like "finding the beat", and "not looking like you're having a seizure"; alone, in your room, anything is game. The possibilities are endless.. Or at least they are endless until one of your roommates opens the door and sees you flailing around in your underwear.
"Are you okay?" They will ask. "You look like you are possessed."
"I am possessed..." You will answer, "Possessed by the rhythm.. I am a slave to it, and all that." You will then proceed to do your best impression of a blind, deaf man who has been given a combination of cocaine, sugar, and hallucinogens... Your dancing is out of this world, and no one can deny that.