expectations
a lot of people, when they meet me, ask me if i used to play either basketball or volleyball.
because i’m 5’11”.
and i hate telling them "sorry, no." because when i do, they always give me this very maternal, scolding look. like i’ve squandered my potential.
and here's the thing that i can never seem to make random strangers understand in a two minute conversation: i didn’t have talent. i didn’t have athleticism. i didn't have the eye of the tiger. i had height.
that's it.
and my height was actually kind of a detriment because i never really got to learn how to play basketball or volleyball. i never got a chance to suck and have it be okay to suck. because everyone saw my height and assumed i’d be awesome. the first day of gym class, people would see me and pick me first for their team and when you're first-picked, even average skill is a huge let down.
not that i had average skill.
i had (have) one move. i call it "the king kong". i would stand under the basket or in front of the net and swipe my arms at the shorties. and kind of growl... it was not effective.
so, no.
i didn’t play sports.
i danced. i was a ballet dancer. and i was the tallest ballet dancer who ever lived! i would go out on stage and go up en pointe and i’d see the first few rows of the audience watch me go up and their eyes would get really wide with wonder. and also wide with concern as they asked themselves, “is this going against the laws of physics?” i don’t know. probably. but i loved it.
and i was good at it!
or at least i thought i was. this is where things get tragic because i wanted to find a picture of me dancing so that i could prove to you that i danced and i was good. there aren’t many pictures of me dancing because i’m a second child, but i did find a few pictures of my sister in the starring role of our dance studio’s production of “the little mermaid” and i was in the background. and i realized something awful.
as i remember it, even though, as ariel, my sister had about 37 solos, i was still super excited because i was given two parts which in my ballet-addled mind meant that i was basically almost as good as my sister.
basically.
i was a daughter of triton and also a flamingo. two very meaty roles with very flashy costumes and enough to do that it apparently didn't occur to me until i was looking at the pictures that i wasn’t a ballerina, i was a prop.
my flamingo part involved me holding up a giant cardboard flamingo cutout and swaying in the background. and as a daughter of triton, i had a cardboard tail. i was immobile. i had to stand in one spot and swipe my arms around and oh my gosh, i was doing the "the king kong"!! i was king konging! my dance skillz and my basketball skillz were essentially the same, but because i was 5’11”, nobody expected me to be a good dancer. i was defying physics by just being on stage, so the bar was set pretty low for me.
holy. crap.
that just blew my mind.
maybe that’s the key to happiness. only doing things that people think you suck at so that when you don’t completely suck, you’ve exceeded expectations.
hu.
so... am i just a giant, walking, fear of failure cliche? you can tell me.
because i’m 5’11”.
and i hate telling them "sorry, no." because when i do, they always give me this very maternal, scolding look. like i’ve squandered my potential.
and here's the thing that i can never seem to make random strangers understand in a two minute conversation: i didn’t have talent. i didn’t have athleticism. i didn't have the eye of the tiger. i had height.
that's it.
and my height was actually kind of a detriment because i never really got to learn how to play basketball or volleyball. i never got a chance to suck and have it be okay to suck. because everyone saw my height and assumed i’d be awesome. the first day of gym class, people would see me and pick me first for their team and when you're first-picked, even average skill is a huge let down.
not that i had average skill.
i had (have) one move. i call it "the king kong". i would stand under the basket or in front of the net and swipe my arms at the shorties. and kind of growl... it was not effective.
so, no.
i didn’t play sports.
i danced. i was a ballet dancer. and i was the tallest ballet dancer who ever lived! i would go out on stage and go up en pointe and i’d see the first few rows of the audience watch me go up and their eyes would get really wide with wonder. and also wide with concern as they asked themselves, “is this going against the laws of physics?” i don’t know. probably. but i loved it.
and i was good at it!
or at least i thought i was. this is where things get tragic because i wanted to find a picture of me dancing so that i could prove to you that i danced and i was good. there aren’t many pictures of me dancing because i’m a second child, but i did find a few pictures of my sister in the starring role of our dance studio’s production of “the little mermaid” and i was in the background. and i realized something awful.
as i remember it, even though, as ariel, my sister had about 37 solos, i was still super excited because i was given two parts which in my ballet-addled mind meant that i was basically almost as good as my sister.
basically.
i was a daughter of triton and also a flamingo. two very meaty roles with very flashy costumes and enough to do that it apparently didn't occur to me until i was looking at the pictures that i wasn’t a ballerina, i was a prop.
my flamingo part involved me holding up a giant cardboard flamingo cutout and swaying in the background. and as a daughter of triton, i had a cardboard tail. i was immobile. i had to stand in one spot and swipe my arms around and oh my gosh, i was doing the "the king kong"!! i was king konging! my dance skillz and my basketball skillz were essentially the same, but because i was 5’11”, nobody expected me to be a good dancer. i was defying physics by just being on stage, so the bar was set pretty low for me.
holy. crap.
that just blew my mind.
maybe that’s the key to happiness. only doing things that people think you suck at so that when you don’t completely suck, you’ve exceeded expectations.
hu.
so... am i just a giant, walking, fear of failure cliche? you can tell me.
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