When you learn a new language, right away you learn how to talk about the activities that you like. This is how you find people like you, people you could be friends with.
A big trend in job interviews is talking about hobbies and interests. Presumably your interviewer is extrapolating what kind of person you really are. You know, on the inside. Your hobbies and interests characterize you.
When you're a kid, you dream about making your interests into a career. My second grade presentation was about my future career as an author. By middle school, I equally wanted to be a copyeditor.
What do my hobbies, interests, and small pleasures say about me?
Crocheting.
Reading.
Appreciating good document design.
Drinking tea with a bit of honey and milk.
Cross-stitching.
Being at church.
Sewing.
Keeping a journal.
Folding laundry.
Taking long bubble baths and sipping white wine.
Writing real, paper letters.
Playing croquet.
Editing, with caveats.
Going for leisurely bike rides.
Washing dishes by hand.
In what ways do my hobbies, interests, and small pleasures not at all represent who I am, you know, on the inside - in the ways that matter?
What kind of person do your hobbies say you are?
This blog is about roller derby.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Read me like a book
This one thing has bothered me all my life. It's my face.
I recently started a new job, and a big part of it is using highly sophisticated equipment and software that's not yet particularly intuitive or user-friendly. I've spent hours revising one of the software manuals. I've spent hours trying to use the software to do aforementioned revising. And I've spent hours trying to figure out snags myself.
This is where my face bothers me.
My boss walks into the room, asks how things are going, I say fine or good or okay or pretty well, and he says, So what's the problem? Last week, suspecting it was my word choice that tipped him off to my stuck-ness, I said, Great! This is really coming together.
I must have come across as sarcastic.
One day he said something like, Well, I know there's something wrong. I can tell by your face.
The other day at practice, Minnie Militia said that people are always telling her she looks angry when she's skating. Apparently that's just her face. I'm pretty envious.
During a practice scrimmage a few months ago, I got some nice rink rash across the top of my hand, and in the two seconds before I could get off the floor and keep skating, one of the refs called off the jam for injury. I asked her why she called it off since I felt fine and was getting up, and she said my face made her think I'd broken a bunch of bones or something. Little tiny rink rash!
I've been practicing my stoicism for years. Also, my "mean face" for the track. You wouldn't know it, though. My face gives away my true feelings.
"Let the stoics say what they please, we do not eat for the good of living, but because the meat is savory and the appetite is keen." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
I recently started a new job, and a big part of it is using highly sophisticated equipment and software that's not yet particularly intuitive or user-friendly. I've spent hours revising one of the software manuals. I've spent hours trying to use the software to do aforementioned revising. And I've spent hours trying to figure out snags myself.
This is where my face bothers me.
My boss walks into the room, asks how things are going, I say fine or good or okay or pretty well, and he says, So what's the problem? Last week, suspecting it was my word choice that tipped him off to my stuck-ness, I said, Great! This is really coming together.
I must have come across as sarcastic.
One day he said something like, Well, I know there's something wrong. I can tell by your face.
The other day at practice, Minnie Militia said that people are always telling her she looks angry when she's skating. Apparently that's just her face. I'm pretty envious.
During a practice scrimmage a few months ago, I got some nice rink rash across the top of my hand, and in the two seconds before I could get off the floor and keep skating, one of the refs called off the jam for injury. I asked her why she called it off since I felt fine and was getting up, and she said my face made her think I'd broken a bunch of bones or something. Little tiny rink rash!
I've been practicing my stoicism for years. Also, my "mean face" for the track. You wouldn't know it, though. My face gives away my true feelings.
"Let the stoics say what they please, we do not eat for the good of living, but because the meat is savory and the appetite is keen." - Ralph Waldo Emerson
Friday, May 28, 2010
What I'm waiting for
I don't want to slow down! I don't want to take water breaks! I don't want to catch my breath! I just want to hit some girls, make some walls, break some walls, fall too hard, skate faster, hit harder, skate more, give whips, race the pack, and do it all again - harder - when I'm too tired to breathe -
But I'll listen to strategy, hit 50%, do some committee work, stay in my position, and wait for that one scrimmage that makes it all worth it.
But I'll listen to strategy, hit 50%, do some committee work, stay in my position, and wait for that one scrimmage that makes it all worth it.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Drama, drama, drama
"Of course there's going to be drama - what do you expect when you have a bunch of women hanging out together?" That's a sentiment I've heard wherever rollergirls convene - and one I don't altogether agree with.
First, let's throw out the gender factor. Anywhere you have more than one person, you have possibility for conflict. Benjamin Franklin said, "Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead." I say, "Two will agree perfectly if one of them is dead." Not as catchy, but you know what I mean.
Second, almost every rollergirl I know thinks of her team as her second family, her derby sisters. (And if she doesn't, she probably just joined!) And almost every rollergirl I know says that sometimes there's just too much drama in derby.
Both of those may be true. And maybe it's because we think of each other as family that we feel comfortable enough to speak up and try to shape our leagues and persuade our teammates with our own ideas.
Mignon McLaughlin wrote, "Family quarrels have a total bitterness unmatched by others. Yet it sometimes happens that they also have a kind of tang, a pleasantness beneath the unpleasantness, based on the tacit understanding that this is not for keeps; that any limb you climb out on will still be there later for you to climb back" (The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960).
And, to me, that pretty much sums it up for family, derby, drama, and how in the end, the combination of them all are okay.
First, let's throw out the gender factor. Anywhere you have more than one person, you have possibility for conflict. Benjamin Franklin said, "Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead." I say, "Two will agree perfectly if one of them is dead." Not as catchy, but you know what I mean.
Second, almost every rollergirl I know thinks of her team as her second family, her derby sisters. (And if she doesn't, she probably just joined!) And almost every rollergirl I know says that sometimes there's just too much drama in derby.
Both of those may be true. And maybe it's because we think of each other as family that we feel comfortable enough to speak up and try to shape our leagues and persuade our teammates with our own ideas.
Mignon McLaughlin wrote, "Family quarrels have a total bitterness unmatched by others. Yet it sometimes happens that they also have a kind of tang, a pleasantness beneath the unpleasantness, based on the tacit understanding that this is not for keeps; that any limb you climb out on will still be there later for you to climb back" (The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960).
And, to me, that pretty much sums it up for family, derby, drama, and how in the end, the combination of them all are okay.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Having the personality for it
In another life, when I was teaching freshman composition during grad school, I totally lost my composure during a student conference. This one girl was struggling to understand how a person could write from different perspectives. I encouraged her to think about the different aspects of people's lives - how a person can be a student and a musician and a daughter and a Christian and a sandwich shop employee and a whatever - and to write from one of those perspectives. This girl is particularly gregarious and was a ringleader in the class, but she still seemed to be stuck writing only with the voice of a stereotypical freshman comp student - declarative sentences, unimaginative vocabulary, 3 to 5 sentences per paragraph.
I said, "Imagine I'm writing, and I want to describe, say, people trying to play pool at Quixote's after having too many shots of tequila." She kind of looked at me funny. I said, "Well, what's one perspective I could take on that?" (I'm thinking, "I could write from the perspective of a sober person sitting at the bar, as the bartender, as one of the drunk pool players, as a girl trying to have a heart-to-heart that keeps getting interrupted by the pool players' loud outbursts.)
My student said, "Uhh, umm, hmm. I don't know. I guess you would take the perspective that research shows that people get uncoordinated when they're drinking and that all these statistics show you should only have a certain amount of alcohol per day. You know - you would write like a teacher. I guess you would probably have to interview some students so you could know what it's like to go to a bar."
And that's when I lost it. I may have laughed until I cried. (Very professional.) This girl apparently thought I was only and always a teacher, and I was less than 3 years older than her! I asked her straight out, "So you think I just stay in this building and think of terrible grammar assignments and grade?" And then suddenly she understood.
This happens all the time in roller derby. I would like to meet a derby girl who tells people she plays roller derby and routinely gets the response, "Oh, that sounds just like you!" or "How fitting!"
My mom recently forwarded me an email from our old pastor's wife: "WOW ... Maria... who'd have thought that quiet little Brigitte would be a roller derby girl!!! I wouldn't have. She just didn't seem to have the personality for it." Every time I read that, I just snicker a little on the inside.
What is the personality for it? What kind of intensity do you hold inside? What kind of resolve? Are you on the track because you're an athlete, because you're stressed, because it's your only thing just for yourself, because all your friends are doing it, because you refuse to get older?
How funny it is that we think we know people even though we know only a few things about one or two facets of their personalities! How funny it is to think about all the ways in which others don't know us at all!
And that's the beautiful thing about it. A bunch of girls who have wildly different lives have somehow found each other and formed hundreds of leagues throughout the world. And suddenly we have something athletic and stress-relieving and important and fun and just for ourselves, and all those differences aren't that important.
And then we can have a good laugh weeks or months later, remembering our underestimating or just wrong first impressions of each other. And then we can get out there and hit some girls!
I said, "Imagine I'm writing, and I want to describe, say, people trying to play pool at Quixote's after having too many shots of tequila." She kind of looked at me funny. I said, "Well, what's one perspective I could take on that?" (I'm thinking, "I could write from the perspective of a sober person sitting at the bar, as the bartender, as one of the drunk pool players, as a girl trying to have a heart-to-heart that keeps getting interrupted by the pool players' loud outbursts.)
My student said, "Uhh, umm, hmm. I don't know. I guess you would take the perspective that research shows that people get uncoordinated when they're drinking and that all these statistics show you should only have a certain amount of alcohol per day. You know - you would write like a teacher. I guess you would probably have to interview some students so you could know what it's like to go to a bar."
And that's when I lost it. I may have laughed until I cried. (Very professional.) This girl apparently thought I was only and always a teacher, and I was less than 3 years older than her! I asked her straight out, "So you think I just stay in this building and think of terrible grammar assignments and grade?" And then suddenly she understood.
This happens all the time in roller derby. I would like to meet a derby girl who tells people she plays roller derby and routinely gets the response, "Oh, that sounds just like you!" or "How fitting!"
My mom recently forwarded me an email from our old pastor's wife: "WOW ... Maria... who'd have thought that quiet little Brigitte would be a roller derby girl!!! I wouldn't have. She just didn't seem to have the personality for it." Every time I read that, I just snicker a little on the inside.
What is the personality for it? What kind of intensity do you hold inside? What kind of resolve? Are you on the track because you're an athlete, because you're stressed, because it's your only thing just for yourself, because all your friends are doing it, because you refuse to get older?
How funny it is that we think we know people even though we know only a few things about one or two facets of their personalities! How funny it is to think about all the ways in which others don't know us at all!
And that's the beautiful thing about it. A bunch of girls who have wildly different lives have somehow found each other and formed hundreds of leagues throughout the world. And suddenly we have something athletic and stress-relieving and important and fun and just for ourselves, and all those differences aren't that important.
And then we can have a good laugh weeks or months later, remembering our underestimating or just wrong first impressions of each other. And then we can get out there and hit some girls!
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Crash and Burn
Every roller girl knows how it feels to be coursing with adrenaline, counting the hours till practice, calculating the hours since you last skated, fantasizing about new equipment or hip checks or what it would be like if you could derby-fy your real life activities. It's a love affair, it's an obsession, it's a major part of a life.
And then there's burnout. Aka "the meh." It's the complete opposite of that feeling you get after dominating a hard workout, conquering a new skill, or bonding with a teammate. It's that feeling of too many nagging injuries, too much derby committee work, or too much time away from home or other activities.
That's what I'm feeling now. I desperately love roller derby. I desperately never want to go back to practice, ever. It doesn't matter how much I love my team or the sport or the workout - right now I can't bear to think about tying up my skates, putting on my always-bruising-my-hands wrist guards, or looking at my off-rink league workload. (But, I also know that as soon as my strained leg muscle heals and I get some new wrist guards, I'll be back at it as though my feelings never were lukewarm.)
When have you crashed and burned, and how did you get back into it?
And then there's burnout. Aka "the meh." It's the complete opposite of that feeling you get after dominating a hard workout, conquering a new skill, or bonding with a teammate. It's that feeling of too many nagging injuries, too much derby committee work, or too much time away from home or other activities.
That's what I'm feeling now. I desperately love roller derby. I desperately never want to go back to practice, ever. It doesn't matter how much I love my team or the sport or the workout - right now I can't bear to think about tying up my skates, putting on my always-bruising-my-hands wrist guards, or looking at my off-rink league workload. (But, I also know that as soon as my strained leg muscle heals and I get some new wrist guards, I'll be back at it as though my feelings never were lukewarm.)
When have you crashed and burned, and how did you get back into it?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Remembering the thrill
Last weekend, the Dixie Derby Girls traveled to Biloxi to bout the Mississippi Rollergirls. The first half, we played as though we had never practiced together or as though we had all just woken up from long naps in the sunshine. We were sluggish and ineffective. (Since this is my blog, now I'm going to talk about myself - talk about yourself in the comment section!)
I was playing inside, which is a position I had not yet played in a game. All I could think was, "Okay, the coaches said to stay right here and do this one thing for our strategy." At the same time, I was thinking, "Should I hit their jammer? No, I should just keep skating in the place that I'm 'assigned' to. Oh, there goes the jammer. Should I try to hit her next time around? Hmm."
At half time, after a rousing pep talk, I asked our fearless captain, Snidely Bitchslap, what I should do: try to stay in my "spot" or try to hit people. She said something inspiring like, "Just do what you think is best." That sounds sarcastic in type, but for real, it made everything come together for me. I know the basics of roller derby - it was time to stop thinking so much and start playing!
Why is it we get so bogged down with small things and forget the bigger picture? For me this was thinking about strategy instead of using common sense and implementing that strategy. For newer girls, it might be getting tripped up by a particular skill and getting discouraged instead of realizing it's only a small part of the game. Or it's getting angry instead of figuring out how to get better.
The second half was truly a triumph of teamwork. Every girl played harder, smarter, and more together. I stopped thinking and started hitting. (I haven't been so sore since playing rugby in college!) The game came down to the last couple jams, and our team really pulled it together. The win was exhilarating, but even better was knowing how well we worked together to make it happen. And we'll do it again this weekend.
I was playing inside, which is a position I had not yet played in a game. All I could think was, "Okay, the coaches said to stay right here and do this one thing for our strategy." At the same time, I was thinking, "Should I hit their jammer? No, I should just keep skating in the place that I'm 'assigned' to. Oh, there goes the jammer. Should I try to hit her next time around? Hmm."
At half time, after a rousing pep talk, I asked our fearless captain, Snidely Bitchslap, what I should do: try to stay in my "spot" or try to hit people. She said something inspiring like, "Just do what you think is best." That sounds sarcastic in type, but for real, it made everything come together for me. I know the basics of roller derby - it was time to stop thinking so much and start playing!
Why is it we get so bogged down with small things and forget the bigger picture? For me this was thinking about strategy instead of using common sense and implementing that strategy. For newer girls, it might be getting tripped up by a particular skill and getting discouraged instead of realizing it's only a small part of the game. Or it's getting angry instead of figuring out how to get better.
The second half was truly a triumph of teamwork. Every girl played harder, smarter, and more together. I stopped thinking and started hitting. (I haven't been so sore since playing rugby in college!) The game came down to the last couple jams, and our team really pulled it together. The win was exhilarating, but even better was knowing how well we worked together to make it happen. And we'll do it again this weekend.
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