Failing Gloriously

Wood-floored hall of library (specifically Poets House in NYC)

 
If I had known anything about teaching interviews, I would have bowed out. Or at least that's what the talking head version of me, filled with hindsight, says from on high. I had aced the first interview, I thought. They were enamored with my writing and the previous teaching jobs on my resume. But this is a story of the second interview.

My second interview was in a windowless gym separated by rolling dividers for the three grade levels. I walked to the back where there was a table set up with a few older-looking folks who were the teachers, two folks who were kind but didn't pay me much attention. The 'classroom' itself was a bunch of circular tables where a few teenagers were stationed, the majority black and Latino.

I was meant to facilitate the warmup activity. There was a game we'd played in a summer program I facilitated where kids are divided into three groups, line up, and they get to write one word of a sentence on a big piece of paper on the wall. The game is timed, and you have to pass the marker to the next person - you can play it where the firs team who finishes 'wins' or the team with the best/funniest sentence 'wins'. I should have known when the paper kept falling down from the dividers that this wasn't going to go well.

Trying to get them into a line was the first thing that failed. And then there was the passing of the marker; most folks were more focused on their phones and I am a terrible disciplinarian. 'Clap once if you can hear me!' and 'Would you put that phone away?' don't really work when you're nervous. I must have looked panic-stricken when I turned to one of the other facilitators; to their credit, they tried to bail me out.

I realize now that there was no reason for them to trust me. I didn’t look like them and I didn’t come from their neighborhoods. And since I was a newbie, they could do whatever they wanted without much consequences. Picture the most sitcom-like experience you could have as a teacher – a substitute teacher at that.

I burst out onto the darkened street afterward, my toes curling in my shoes from embarrassment. It was the first time I felt like I had gone out of my body to watch myself tank so badly. But something about it was also hysterical to me. When I got on the train, I couldn’t help but smile. It went so badly it was funny. There was no way in hell that I was going to get the position. And yet the world hadn’t tumbled into a fiery abyss behind me. I had only metaphorically died of embarrassment.

I’ve felt like I spent a whole year and a half unlearning the idea of perfectionism. During college, it was a prized skill no matter what group I was in – even amongst artists and activists, achievement was highly correlated to your value. And before that it was a survival tactic: if I did a lot of stuff, it meant I didn’t have to be at home very often. But after school ended and I couldn’t get a job for five months, I had to find a new strategy.

I’m still not all that great at appreciating my failures but now it’s easier to see them as experiments, moments that I can put in my back pocket for later. When, later that year, I attended my first birth as a doula, I tried to keep this experience in mind – though I may have been embarrassed or unprepared, I did all that I could with what I had. Even if I was failing, I wanted to fail gloriously. And be easier on myself in the process.

Getting Back to the Process

I've been writing this post in my head for over a week now:

It's about moving worth away from material successes - finishing a manuscript, getting the job you wanted - and finding that worth lies more in the intangible. In things such as how your commitment to the work, your gratitude for daily life, and the love of your friends keep you going. Something meaningful to remind you (and myself) that there are greater forces at work.

But the post has been caught in my throat. Despite all my New Year's resolutions and meditation, I haven't magically woken up one morning with all the right words in my head ready to jump out. Instead I've been on deadline knitting up gloves and editing short stories: I've only been thinking about the material, and that's made it a challenge to feel like other types of worth are more substantial.

I started looking through posts I've written in the past when I kept this blog more frequently (something I want to go back to as we move forward in 2014), and I realized that many of them were written under pressure. When I was in school, I only had a few hours that I could dedicate to my own work, versus the days and weeks I can let things drag out for now. Projects were time-sensitive by necessity, because I wouldn't have access to the photocopier or I wouldn't be able to meet up with certain people during winter break. When I produce work, it's like an explosion, but the editing process is a slow burn.

I am learning a lot about my own working style now that I have more unstructured time and - with a few mishaps - I've been trying to work with myself and create those same generative conditions. Like making sure I have a day to plan, a day or two to produce, and a week or more to edit. Like making sure I work outside of the house (even if it means going out in 9 degree weather!). Like making sure I don't get sucked into reading articles about productivity/inspiration and not actually getting through the things I want to accomplish.

Because writing and art for me are not just about the finished product, the worth is in the process. And if I avoid my process for too long, I start to feel sick. I become agitated when I lay down to meditate (another 2014 goal) and consumed by the ever-building pressure inside of me. I hope that on the exhalation that the words would come.

How do you work? What are the things that you just can't live without? Tweet me your answers.

The Familiar Stranger

Who is the intimate stranger in your life? And what should you do when they reappear? A little creative non-fiction from my trip to the West coast and back.

I woke up on couches and beds all the way down the West coast. Road trips were sandwiched around my best friend's wedding - a few days in Seattle, a few in California, then back to Oregon to collect strange postcards and eat way too much rich food. On hard futons and under comforters dense with stuffing, I thought of the bed I had slept in as a child, now sporting faded leopard-print sheets and pillowcases.

In previous years, I spent as little time as possible at home. It felt like being caught in quicksand. I would hole up in coffee shops or run away to Portland, where my best friend lives, to escape. As another ex-patriate from Washington put it, "going home is like taking a sedative." But there's always a lingering question when we talk like this, making my stomach twist. What about our friends and families that still live here? Do they feel the same lethargy? Or is it just another part of home?

On the drive back to Portland from San Francisco, it began to sink in that I was leaving. My mind was already re-arranging itself into to-do lists. I felt the familiar stranger detaching from the shadows in my mind.
My best friend and I stopped off at a gas station in northern California and I picked out a book from a bag in the backseat.
"You can read this to me," I said. It was Jamaica Kincaid's Annie John.
We don't really get read to as adults. There is something intimate about it. You and the other person are both sharing literary discoveries at the same time - taking breaks and making small jokes as you go along. I think less about the content than the feelings of the story. I will remember that night as the one when my best friend read to me as our car hydroplaned on highways slick with rain.

When I wake up in New York City, flicking a cockroach off my shoulder, I still don't feel like the sluggishness has worn off. I think about how New York makes me feel like I'm behind on everything. I've taken to a vampiric sleep schedule, sleeping in too late and getting everything at night.
At the top of the stairs, there is a small child peering down at me, asking me why I'm still in bed. No matter how many times I try to explain, to make friends, they disappear when I sit up. I wonder if the sedative has worn off yet, or if it takes a few weeks. In the meantime, I find myself permanently in the blue glow of a computer screen, searching and searching for the next opportunity.

Why haven't you finished your list for today? The small child asks me, daring to come close to the end of my bed.
I ignore them, the dark cluster of shadows with slits for eyes.
Where are the groceries? Where is the end to your story?
They speak in a peevish voice, remaining always in the corner of my eye.
Why can't you listen to good advice?
I realize that this familiar stranger has been following me for quite a long time. I look up.
"I want to be better than ghosts," I say.
I begin to read my words out loud to the dark.

Moving and Moved

I moved!

It's taken me about a week to feel semi-settled, but I am in love with my new space -- I never thought I'd say it, but living alone is actually better for me at this point in my life. Though I don't have everything figured out in terms of my next steps, having a stable living situation is a luxury I can no longer take for granted.

In the interim between jobs, I've been going on a lot of other adventures. Sometimes it's tough to feel productive or energized when searching for the next thing - I've been waking up late and cooking elaborate meals at the end of particularly demotivating days. I've flitted from going away party to job search session and book club to coffee date, all the while wondering about whether - underneath it all - I define myself based solely off the work that I do. There's something to be said about financial security, but beyond that there is a lot of anxiety about not having something 'to do.'

But the projects that have been helping me lift out of this state are all labors of love, and I am grateful to have time to work on them. This week, it has been planning to bring As[I]Am out of hibernation and applying for travel grants. In two weeks, it will be - most excitingly - officiating my best friend's marriage! (Stay tuned for details on that!). So while the downtime has carried with it a mix of feelings, I am happy to say that riding the tide in has not felt completely like drowning.

See you when I reach the shore - this time on the West Coast!

Stress, College Life, and Self-Worth

I've written before about balancing academics and creativity. Now that we are coming upon the end of finals and yet another dramatic spike in personal free time (a.k.a. winter break), I feel that it must be brought up once more, but in a slightly different light. This time I want to address stress.

How to Value Your Work

This summer, I set myself the goal of going multi-media with the blog, so I am excited to present my first vlog post! The subject is valuing your artistic work and bringing it together with your identities. I apologize that there is currently no transcript because I did not yet have time to create one. After the jump, you can read some fast facts about the video-making process. Enjoy!

You may also enjoy 5 Ways to Find Balance in Productivity and some other lessons.

Caught My Eye: Think Simple Now

I have mentioned before that Think Simple Now is a great website for making you feel better and learn about how to deal with complex situations, but just in case you haven't checked it out, I encourage you to! Here is a round up of my favorite articles:

Healthy Relationships

When Couples Fight (not just for people in relationships!)
Living in the Moment 

The Art of Building Self-Esteem 

How to Achieve Anything
I'm Sorry, I Don't Know, I Can't...
A Guide to Happiness via Self Forgiveness
Personal Change You Can Measure

Why Eating Can Make Me Depressed

I've returned to Barnard on a pretty dreary day, so I feel compelled to open up the week with a pretty dreary post. Yet, as with all dreariness, it's designed to make you think rather bring you further down in the doldrums. So, enjoy.

I consider myself a conscientious eater. I have made peace with my food issues, questioned the food fads put up in the media, and tried to separate eating from body image and make both of those more positive.
Yet I still get caught up on one particular eating paradigm: sustainable eating. This (admittedly very long) article by Michael Pollan opened up that can of worms again for me, the first time having been after I read his book The Omnivore's Dilemma. The article, and his book, tout the mantra "Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants." He goes on to debunk the myths of nutrient-based nutrition and favors whole foods for the reason that they are better both for the farmer and the eater. And I find all that wonderful, interesting, and something that I want to apply to my life - until I reach the grocery store or the restaurant.
Finding whole foods in the grocery store is easy enough if I stick to the right aisles (produce, meat, dairy), but the basic fact is that these foods need preparation. Which means equipment and time. For a college student that doesn't have an oven, that rules out a lot of possibilities. So, heading deep into the center aisles, I began to scour labels and decide what a whole food looks like when industrially prepared. Those foods I found that contained even something that remotely resembled a whole food were extremely expensive. Again, a college budget does not allow for much wiggle room. What I came out with wasn't nearly what Pollan intended when he sat down to write that article.
Thus I came out of the grocery store anxious and somewhat depressed at my gatherings, and with one key question: how can I possibly make sustainable eating work for me? Or for anyone else who has a low-budget and low-time lifestyle?

The answer is two-fold:
1. Giving yourself a darn break. I think sustainable eating has to come in small increments; on the one hand, because American culture hasn't caught on to it, on the other because you can't flip a switch and change your monetary situation, the amount of time you have, or your cultivated eating habits from childhood on up. Pollan presents some good ideas, but self-selecting the parts you can do and setting aside those you can't requires a personal evaluation.
2. Separating self-worth from eating. Thinking about the emotions that came up for me after I left the grocery store, they were very much akin to those I had when I was dieting. Sustainable eating presented an unrealistic set of goals that, when I failed to meet them, caused me to spiral down the ramp of low self-esteem in the exact same way. While this is not to say that sustainable eating is the same thing as dieting or that you do it for the same reasons, but the association between eating habits and self-worth is the same. The only way to make changes without those same negative thoughts is to recognize and recognize that the two are not parallel.
Pollan may include some really good ideas for a fulfilling sustainable eating pattern, but he doesn't address any of the other concerns (money, time, or emotion) surrounding what you put on your plate. It's up to everyone else to fill in those gaps with their own solutions.
What is your take? Should sustainable eating even be put in the same sentence as dieting? Does it exclude people? Should it be the norm? And how would you make it happen if that were your own goal?

You might also be interested in posts about eating at restaurants.

Body Image Acceptance: A Journey, Not Just a Goal

It takes quite a bit of time to appreciate my body sometimes. I look at myself in the mirror, typically from the side, and cringe at the droop in my belly. I look at my face and pick out all the small pimples. And, some days, my hair just makes me want to shave the whole thing off and start anew (if I had the guts, that is).
So I definitely echo the sentiment that body image acceptance is a journey with ups and downs - you can't expect a quick fix with simple positive thinking. But you can commit to it. And committing to accepting your body can be one of the most beautiful radiant things that you can do for yourself.
As I was looking at myself in that mirror just a few minutes ago, standing with my feet spread apart and rubbing my belly as if it were a sobbing child, I had an amazing thought. I turned to face the mirror straight on. I looked at the other parts of my body that I know make me happy. Slowly, I ran my hands over the waist that I love having (it makes me into a nice hourglass shape, just not as dramatic as the girls on Top Model). I looked at the way my face is put together and the way my hair cascades down. I thought of my best moments, when I really enjoyed the outfit I was wearing or I felt strong after a great workout. And, I started to heal.
My body image woes are similar to a lot of girls that have grown up with the expectation that you will be loved and appreciated only based on the way that you look and the shape of your body. And, in some ways, the socialization to believe this idea is more powerful than the thin reality of it. There is no sense in believing that you are unworthy because of your body, yet everyone has those moments (yes, even my boyfriend and other men!).
When you begin something, even something as wonderful as the journey to body image acceptance, you might get into a blame game of "not feeling the right way." I know that sometimes I have these crazy thoughts like "shouldn't I accept this body right now?" and "if I am really trying to accept my body, why am I so unsatisfied right now?" The key to getting over these thoughts is to be gentle with yourself. For me, that is to appreciate the small things. And to continue on my workout regimen so that I can feel strong in what my body does rather than what it looks like.
But, on occasion, I still get the urge to ask my boyfriend whether he thinks I'm pretty or not. And there's no shame in that. It just reminds me that I am on a pathway towards self-acceptance and there will be some potholes along the way.

You may also be interested in my post Why Eating Can Make Me Depressed and my insights into How to Deal with Negative Comments.

Photographs

Today is just a photo and this brief self-worth poem [written by me]:

"I will make my days make meaning,
Even as the darkest skies do cross,
That long horizon."

Check out some more posts featuring my photography.
More poetry is also available for your perusal.

Self-Love

I am beautiful. And sexy. And confidant and independent and loving. And a great friend and a potential girlfriend, wife and mother. I love myself. And I need to hear it.
This week has been an absolute self-esteem crusher. We aren't even at the pinnacle point, and yet I am feeling battered and cast to the side. So I'm taking this post not to be vain, but to be real. To give myself a little attention. Because yesterday I had no time and the night before I was too tired and the day before I was sick and in pain.
Why am I so beautiful?
Take a breath. Look at all these moving parts of mine. Look at the joints that hinge forearm to upper arm, thigh to shin, head to neck... think of the skill necessary to give me this soft brown skin, these dark brown eyes, this raucous curly black hair. What art created these ten fingers and ten toes? Exhale. Let it be known that we are all amazingly beautiful for the bodies God has given us. We are so beautiful. I am so beautiful.
And I am in love with every single part of this beautiful body - the cracks of my skin, the pimples, the relative frailty, the wilds of my hair... I love it all.
I realize, and I hope everyone realizes someday, that we need these words every single day. It will save us a lot of pain and doubt in the future.

Love yourself, love yourself, love yourself.
Because sometimes it is really the only thing you've got.

Check out some more posts featuring my photography.

Story of My Life...

So, hopefully, I can bring up my health quotient by starting to go with a personal trainer (which my dad has so kindly decided to allow me to take instead of him). I feel kind of horrid that I wasn't getting any better with tennis or on my own, but I think that's because I'm not eating well either. It's somewhat de-motivating to look down at the scale and see that you're ten pounds heavier, even though you've been working out and whatnot.
I think I'll start tracking calories like Heathy said, and then also go with the 1 hour workout every day in order to keep up with fitness. If I do that, I would like to get down under 130 pounds, because that is my 'ideal weight' or so they say. I would really like to build arm strength and stamina and perhaps some tennis skills, but right now general fitness is my goal.
Gah. Sorry. I just needed to write that down because I got really unhappy with myself when I figured this out. I thought I was 140, but it's been so long since I've weighed me that I am now 150. Grr... Other than that, I feel quite fine.
I've decided that I will be doing a lot of things, and most of them are brain-oriented. That's the problem. I want to be well-rounded, but that 'rounding' includes fitness and the idea of self-worth. I'm starting to feel good about myself, and I'm starting to really find who I am, but at the same time that's still a start. I need to be disciplined to get anywhere from it. And, since I am quite the willful child, I guess I have to do things on my own. So...
Coming Soon:
J With A Workout Schedule
J Writing in Action
J Being Socially Sound