Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but improve grammar where necessary.

Once again, I find myself faced with a choice I may possibly have to make. Two weeks ago we didn't go to the day program at JARC for the combined music/dance session. In large part, that had to do with a scheduling situation; the timing with which we would have left the JARC building could have adversely coincided with getting to the theater on time, for a showing of "Inside Out 2" (a fantastic film that deserves every penny of the more than billion dollars it has made at the box office thus far). While we were away, the clients who did go there apparently were taught part of a choreographed sequence by the dance instructor. I had to use my intuition to figure out what they were doing; the initial parts of the sequence aren't too complicated, but about halfway through it gets very tough. There is a part where you are supposed to spin your partner and let them spin you, and for the life of me I could not figure it out. I'm not the best dancer when going it alone, but it becomes ten times worse when I get paired up with someone else. My flaws and vulnerabilities are put on full display. The last thing I'd ever want to do is embarrass another client; I have too much respect for the friends I've made here. Initially, I told myself that I was prepared to suck, and to embrace the suckage. But then it hit me: I have a choice. The last time I was there, certain people danced while others created art. With all due respect to the instructor, and maybe it isn't necessarily his fault, but I do not like the vibes I was getting from him. I found it kind of strange that he had us engage in 'silent' warm-ups. He had us make a circle, and had people stand in the middle of the circle to lead the rest of us in freeform combinations of techniques. We had to use our intuition to follow what they were doing. I even got to lead one of those 'mini-sessions,' and coming up with choreography on the fly was honestly quite fun. Even so, the big problem I have with this instructor is that though the activities were meant to be fun, the way in which he led the group did not make any of it feel fun. I felt as though I wanted the ground to open up underneath me and swallow me up, such was the embarrassment I felt when I struggled with trying to master the choreography last week. He gave off a vibe of someone who had been working there for years and was going through the motions, expecting most of us to be familiar with the way he taught and merely do as we were told. And now I realize that I will have to possibly be assertive. It may surprise people when I declare my intentions of simply staying at a table and drawing. Perhaps the house manager, the CNA assisting her today, a house-mate, or even the instructor himself may ask me why I have decided to forgo dancing. They may not even get to that point; it may become a command, with them basically telling me to go up there. "No, I would like to draw." Like a bayonet, I have to stick to my guns. I have lost a lot of weight since this past December, and with all due respect, it was not because of anything this instructor has taught us. Unless I am forced to work with him, provided he is made the choreographer for "Hairspray" (or "Can't Stop the Beat," as our version will be called, so as not to provoke the wrath of the legal bloodhounds sniffing out copyright violators), I would prefer to engage as little as possible with him. I even managed to forgo possibly attending a dance class that he almost certainly would have been teaching yesterday, when the van for a nearby group home came to pick me up in lieu of our normal one; not once but twice this week, we have had strange and messy pick-up situations that have necessitated me going home in a different van than the one which typically gets us to and from a given place. Not until after I had gotten in the van was I asked if I'd like to participate in dance class that afternoon. "No thanks, I'm good," I replied. Thankfully, it is still an option, just in case something should happen that compels me to change my mind. The order of that Friday afternoon was reinstalling Windows XP; that same morning, I had spent some time accounting for files that would come in handy during the installation process, including drivers and software. After giving it a lot of thought, I've settled on keeping a set of emulators for certain systems, enough that you can count them on one hand (which is to say, no more than five). Those five ended up being Nestopia 1.40 (for the NES), ZSNES 1.51 (for the SNES), Fusion 3.64 (for pre-Saturn Sega systems, including the Genesis), Project64 1.6 (for the N64), and MAME 0.68 (for many different arcade games). I find that all of them offer a brilliant balance of compatibility and speed and run beautifully on my PC. As it turns out, MAME 0.68 is the first version with Direct3D support, which makes it a good choice if you have a decent graphics card and/or a modern version of Windows. Some video cards and later Windows versions don't support bilinear filtering (which helps these old games to look nice and smooth in fullscreen) in DirectDraw mode, but it works fine in Direct3D mode. Because it is the first version to support Direct3D, it retains more of the speed hacks found in old versions of MAME than later versions do; even the venerable 0.72 had already had several taken out, though it was the last to have the DCS Sound System hacks. I am always open to testing older/newer versions, but 0.68 seems like the best compromise between performance on older hardware and compatibility with newer hardware; by the time 0.68 was out MAME already supported about 98% of the games that people still talk about and emulated most of them well. It feels good to have settled on what I feel is a respectable set of emulators; I hope to keep enjoying them for a long time to come. Last night, I found myself revisiting an old love, the brilliant "Home Movies." Though the show came to an end roughly twenty years ago, there are still many who fondly remember and revisit it even now. Perhaps one of the main factors in the series being so memorable is the soccer coach, Coach McGuirk. H. Jon Benjamin outdid himself in that role; it's no wonder he ended up getting steady work after production wrapped. Someone took it upon themselves to make a video more than six hours in length, which showcases every single McGuirk moment. For preservation purposes, and a way to keep myself entertained should I find myself not wanting to spend any cellular data on YouTube videos when away from a WiFi network, I downloaded the entire video. I thought the size would be more than a gigabyte, but it came out to just over 700MB at 360p; a hefty file by any measure, but well worth the time that it took to save it to my phone. On Thursday, I was invited to a 4th of July party at a friend's home; the logistics were interesting, as I ended up having to go directly from the van to her SUV (she had cakes in the back and didn't want them to melt, for obvious reasons). Aside from the flies that were constantly going for the food, and the frustratingly lackadaisical attitude of our hosts about it, the party was a good time. There was plenty of food and ice-cold water, I got in a few rounds of solo cornhole, and for those who are Chicago Cubs fans they had the Marquee Sports Network on (though they are Phillies fans they happened to be playing the Cubs; unfortunately, the Cubs destroyed them 10-2).