I committed to myself and to the #TeachWrite community that I would provide an update on how I am doing with my daily writing habit. Because I had no intention other than to write daily, I'd say I've met my goal this week. Sometimes I wrote online, other times in a pocket notebook I carry with me everywhere as my adjunct hard drive, and also in a spiral notebook, which is how I used to complete my journaling years ago. I think I stopped when I got tired of venting. The stress in my life ratcheted up several notches, and has stayed at that level for the last five years. I'm not sure that I have adapted to it; I just take one day at a time. I remind myself that I wouldn't want someone else's troubles, and they wouldn't want mine. Writing, however, as well as painting, have been off the menu for some time. I am feeling the crunch of the economy's impact on the lower tax brackets and the effect of belonging to the sandwich generation simultaneously.
But now it is summer, and the time that I typically need for keeping up with grading and schoolwork is mine again. So I can write.
Today in my email was a teaser for Pinterest that included vintage lunch boxes. I think I know why the algorithm sent this to me, but the computer codes don't know me or my life very well. Several months ago, I attempted to make an articulated horse for my niece's birthday. What's an articulated horse, you ask? You can see one here: puppet . I think, when I was searching for the designs, Pinterest incorrectly assumed I have a love of nostalgia. One of the images in the teaser was a Barbie lunch box. If you are of a certain age, you would remember this. What struck me is that I didn't have the lunch box, but I did have a box for my dance shoes that was close in construction.
But now it is summer, and the time that I typically need for keeping up with grading and schoolwork is mine again. So I can write.
Today in my email was a teaser for Pinterest that included vintage lunch boxes. I think I know why the algorithm sent this to me, but the computer codes don't know me or my life very well. Several months ago, I attempted to make an articulated horse for my niece's birthday. What's an articulated horse, you ask? You can see one here: puppet . I think, when I was searching for the designs, Pinterest incorrectly assumed I have a love of nostalgia. One of the images in the teaser was a Barbie lunch box. If you are of a certain age, you would remember this. What struck me is that I didn't have the lunch box, but I did have a box for my dance shoes that was close in construction.
Tap shoes in the top, ballet shoes in the side snap compartment. I think my color choices were black or pink. I'm pretty certain I had a pink one until it fell apart, then I switched to black. It is the size, shape, and strap that so closely resemble the Barbie lunch box of that time period. Then, as is so often the case, I fell down a rabbit hole looking at all the photos of kid-stuff from that era (thank you, Alice, for the metaphor -- or to be more accurate, thank you Lewis Carroll*). I had so much of what was on the page, from the little ballerina music box to the game Operation. My parents were social climbers. They did what everyone else did, especially when it came to their children. I took dance lessons because that's what one did, if one were a girl. My brother, of blessed memory, played baseball. My father bowled. Competitively. My mother was a housewife who played mah jongg. They both smoked incessantly.
I was a quirky, solitary kid. I didn't fit in anywhere. Many people say this, but for me it is truth. It is still truth. I danced for 18 years, but I was neither graceful nor particularly athletic. I danced because my mother tried to live her dream of being a Rockette through me. She was too short. I had no interest in being a professional dancer, but dance I did. I smiled, I twirled, I was en pointe.
I hated it.
I was raised to be compliant, and all the dancing kept my weight in check at a time when frozen TV dinners, dessert with every meal, and sugar-laden cereals for breakfast were America's diet. Eventually, I became a phenomenal tap dancer. I now know that the percussive nature of tap dancing is why I excelled. Once in a while, I think about going to adult tap classes for exercise. Then I see the price and think, "Maybe next year." Falling in line with my parent's expectations had a dramatic effect on my own style as a parent. I was determined to let my own children find their way in the world, to find their passion, to be authentic. I have succeeded. They are both young adults trying to make a living doing what brings them joy. It is both challenging and exasperating for all of us. The creative arts don't pay well. They are both trying to survive in a gig economy, without the safety net of a full time job that offers some semblance of health care.
Who's dancing now?
*Lewis Carroll's given name was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, for all you potential Jeopardy champions.
I was a quirky, solitary kid. I didn't fit in anywhere. Many people say this, but for me it is truth. It is still truth. I danced for 18 years, but I was neither graceful nor particularly athletic. I danced because my mother tried to live her dream of being a Rockette through me. She was too short. I had no interest in being a professional dancer, but dance I did. I smiled, I twirled, I was en pointe.
I hated it.
I was raised to be compliant, and all the dancing kept my weight in check at a time when frozen TV dinners, dessert with every meal, and sugar-laden cereals for breakfast were America's diet. Eventually, I became a phenomenal tap dancer. I now know that the percussive nature of tap dancing is why I excelled. Once in a while, I think about going to adult tap classes for exercise. Then I see the price and think, "Maybe next year." Falling in line with my parent's expectations had a dramatic effect on my own style as a parent. I was determined to let my own children find their way in the world, to find their passion, to be authentic. I have succeeded. They are both young adults trying to make a living doing what brings them joy. It is both challenging and exasperating for all of us. The creative arts don't pay well. They are both trying to survive in a gig economy, without the safety net of a full time job that offers some semblance of health care.
Who's dancing now?
*Lewis Carroll's given name was Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, for all you potential Jeopardy champions.