the good stuff

I never mentioned it, but I performed at the end of January. It went well--even the tap dance. Both sets of grandparents were able to come to the Sunday matinee. Most of the show involved upbeat classics. Lots of Louie Armstrong, Frank Sinatra, and Dean Martin. My family said I looked like I was in good shape, and my grandparents probably hadn't seen me perform since high school, so I felt almost like a kid again, and they were all happy to see that I'm still dancing. It made me feel seasoned, like my dance "career" or whatever is in its twilight stages. And at least one set of my grandparents are in their twilight stage and that particular performance had a certain sentiment that made my throat swell in the middle of dancing a few times. It was a good day and a fun show.

Let's see, what else is good? I read The Hunger Games series, a cheesy post-apocalyptic teen epic, on our new Kindle, and enjoyed reading again for the first time since this summer. It makes me feel a little sheepish to admit that, but it's true--I go through these long stretches with no pleasure reading and miss the hell out of it. Now I'm reading Anthropology of an American Girl and I pretty much hate it, but I feel mildly nosy about what happens with the relationships. The main character is so fucking awful--all she does is waif around and passively attract men in the first person (because apparently she's a self-proclaimed stunning enigma with hot legs) and then muse about EVERYTHING from a pair of pants to the meaning of love.

But the point is that I'm devoting some time to reading again (outside of the literature I teach at school). And skiing--Leif and I just did a lot of that in Oregon last week. I love skiing a lot. I feel like a badass when I have a really good run. I feel like I can do anything. I shout and woop when I hit a good series of hills. I also tasted a lot of very fine beers (to the point that if I had more more sampler, I might have exploded). I am not drinking any alcohol this week to de-bloat.

Portland made me think a lot. I figured it would happen. It was my first time really seeing it because last time I was there, I pretty much stayed at Reed College. I know it's a cliche hip town--it's "The Dream of the '90s" and all that, and everybody wants to live there. Still, the whole time I was there, I got the feeling that I would really actually like living there. I love the downtown atmosphere, I love the neighborhoods and the way they're planned, I liked seeing all the laid back people and the grungy clothing and the women that wear comfort shoes (but boy there sure are a lot of homeless and mentally disturbed people downtown), I love the water, I love the proximity to the ski resorts, I loved the bookstore and the restaurants (and so many Asian restaurants! Good god!) and the coffee shops and the emphases on wellness, literature, aesthetics, and humor that seem to reside there. Why don't I live there already? Am I actually going to move there? I could write a much longer post about this, but I don't have time right now.

Basically, going on vacation, especially to such a great city, always makes me think about the ways in which I've played it safe in my life. It's probably perfectly obvious to the people who already know me, but I've just begun to work through exactly why and brainstorm what to do about it. My parents have always taught me to be thankful for what I have, to always recognize that somebody has it better than me and somebody has it worse, to make "smart choices" and "wise decisions" (i.e., to be pragmatic), and to work hard for the things I want instead of brooding about what I don't like and what I don't have. I have a tendency to hear their voices and think that if I'm complaining, I'm just being negative or looking to nit pick or losing perspective.

These thoughts stem mostly from the fact that Leif started reading part of his book to me last night, I Could Do Anything If I Only Knew What It Was: How to Discover What You Really Want and How to Get It. It's written by two Barbaras. It's pretty awesome but pretty uncomfortable because it hits so close to home. It's making me think about what I grew up wanting for myself and my life and what parts of those expectations come from parents, coaches, teachers, and friends. I hope to write more on this later. There are exercises in the book. I want to do a mood board at some point (Chelsea would get a kick out of that).

Another good thing: I've been going to ballet once a week, completely unrelated to company classes. This time I'm even older and less worried about being a perfect bun-head, so that's been good. Mostly I love the teacher, and she gives a good class every time, so I focus on that and getting a workout. I need to get dressed and leave for that right now.

One last anecdote: a mystery is afoot! When I showed up yesterday after having taken off three days of school, everything in my classroom seemed to be in working order and the sub was apparently not useless, but there were two sticky notes, connected, on my desk. Scrawled in sharpie were the words "Ms. W_ likes black guys." I ignored it and threw it in the trash. I can't figure out what compelled a kid to write that. I asked Mr. D, the guy who "floats" in my room to teach Math first hour, if it might have been one of his kids, and he said he has found that taped to the whiteboard and so he put it on my desk for me to figure out. I'm not sure he knew I had a sub. Today after seventh hour, I asked one of my girls if she knew who wrote it, and she says she didn't see who (she didn't want to rat anyone out) but she knows it was posted during seventh hour. I can recognize pretty much anyone's handwriting, but it looked like it was intentionally messy, and I threw it away anyway, so I can't really check again. I have no idea what is up with this. It's not worth a witch hunt, and it's not exactly sexual harassment (or racism, necessarily, because the one black guy in seventh hour might have written it). I mean you should see some of the immature nerds I have in there. But it was a real WTF moment on a Monday morning.