When I was eight years old, I got kicked out of ballet school. And not just kicked out of a class. Kicked out of the whole school. Expelled. Asked never to return. My parents were told that I was disruptive; incorrigible; unteachable. The fact that I may or may not have had talent was never (at least not to my knowledge) discussed. I was simply too much of a pain in the ass for the instructor to deal with. I don’t remember being particularly upset, much less humiliated, by my dismissal. In fact, I don’t think I really cared one way or the other. I was too busy scheming up ways to get myself kicked out of piano class, too. No, not really, but I do remember not particularly liking piano, either.
Almost 30 years later, I find myself with some mild regrets. There are three things I wish I had done:
One, I wish I’d spent a few years being a National Geographic photographer. I don’t particularly like sleeping outside (in fact, I hate it), nor do I relish the thought of traipsing through mosquito-infested jungles, but I do love photography and I do (mostly) love traveling. I’m a
pretty good traveler and an okay photographer, but I’m not a wanderer and I definitely would not make a very good nomad. I do not need 5 star accommodations (as evidenced by the fact that my favorite place on Earth is a remote private island in Honduras (see right), half the size of a football field with a semi-decrepit house that runs on generators and requires you to fish for your own food if you want to eat ), and I’m quite comfortable in the Third World. But I don’t thrive in potentially dangerous situations and I could never, ever sit idly by while a poor little antelope baby was stalked by a hungry lion. I’d be the person breaking the silence of the African savannah yelling “Run!! For all that is sacred and holy in this world, run like the wind, little one!! RUUUUN!” I get the whole Circle of Life thing, but it’s not happening on my watch. So, strike that dream.
Two, I wish I’d been a professional ballerina. Without exception, every single time I see a ballet, I feel a cringe of regret for my actions all those years ago. Ballet, to me at least, is the most beautiful form of dance there is. I am in awe of the strength, grace and discipline that it so clearly requires. When I watch a ballet, I am quite literally, green with envy. Two years ago, I enrolled my then 6 year old daughter Vivian in ballet hoping that she would pick up where I left off. But alas, though she did not get herself unceremoniously kicked out like I did, it became clear after two years of lessons that it simply wasn’t going to be her calling in life, much like it clearly hadn’t been mine.
And three, I wish I’d been a writer. Not a novelist, mind you. I don’t have the imagination, fortitude or patience to write anything that would take valuable space on a bookstore shelf. But a writer of other sorts – commentaries, articles, short stories - Just a writer. I did a lot of writing in high school, college and in the years after I moved to California, but clearly, it never got me very far . I guess I always figured that it would only be worth doing, if I could do something with it. How wrong I was.
I’m never going to be a National Geographic photographer and I doubt very seriously you will see me (in this lifetime, at least) dancing at the San Francisco Opera House. But I don’t need to write The Great American Novel, nor do I need to be a syndicated columnist to do the something else I love. I just need to put pen to paper and simply… write.
Thanks for indulging me. And thanks for reading.
Almost 30 years later, I find myself with some mild regrets. There are three things I wish I had done:
One, I wish I’d spent a few years being a National Geographic photographer. I don’t particularly like sleeping outside (in fact, I hate it), nor do I relish the thought of traipsing through mosquito-infested jungles, but I do love photography and I do (mostly) love traveling. I’m a
pretty good traveler and an okay photographer, but I’m not a wanderer and I definitely would not make a very good nomad. I do not need 5 star accommodations (as evidenced by the fact that my favorite place on Earth is a remote private island in Honduras (see right), half the size of a football field with a semi-decrepit house that runs on generators and requires you to fish for your own food if you want to eat ), and I’m quite comfortable in the Third World. But I don’t thrive in potentially dangerous situations and I could never, ever sit idly by while a poor little antelope baby was stalked by a hungry lion. I’d be the person breaking the silence of the African savannah yelling “Run!! For all that is sacred and holy in this world, run like the wind, little one!! RUUUUN!” I get the whole Circle of Life thing, but it’s not happening on my watch. So, strike that dream.Two, I wish I’d been a professional ballerina. Without exception, every single time I see a ballet, I feel a cringe of regret for my actions all those years ago. Ballet, to me at least, is the most beautiful form of dance there is. I am in awe of the strength, grace and discipline that it so clearly requires. When I watch a ballet, I am quite literally, green with envy. Two years ago, I enrolled my then 6 year old daughter Vivian in ballet hoping that she would pick up where I left off. But alas, though she did not get herself unceremoniously kicked out like I did, it became clear after two years of lessons that it simply wasn’t going to be her calling in life, much like it clearly hadn’t been mine.
And three, I wish I’d been a writer. Not a novelist, mind you. I don’t have the imagination, fortitude or patience to write anything that would take valuable space on a bookstore shelf. But a writer of other sorts – commentaries, articles, short stories - Just a writer. I did a lot of writing in high school, college and in the years after I moved to California, but clearly, it never got me very far . I guess I always figured that it would only be worth doing, if I could do something with it. How wrong I was.
I’m never going to be a National Geographic photographer and I doubt very seriously you will see me (in this lifetime, at least) dancing at the San Francisco Opera House. But I don’t need to write The Great American Novel, nor do I need to be a syndicated columnist to do the something else I love. I just need to put pen to paper and simply… write.
Thanks for indulging me. And thanks for reading.
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