Dancing through life.

The days since my last post have truly been a learning experience. I have risen to my own challenge of dancing randomly in public. So far, despite the confused looks and overall public judgment of my impromptu outbursts of dance, I have to admit I am quite pleased. First of all, it has allowed me to let go of this unadulterated fear of public humiliation. It has also inspired the idea that dancing makes for a healthier life (Yes, I know that I'm not the first to realize this). I do not mean that it is healthier because it is a form of cardio. I mean that it leads to a healthier life because one cannot help but be elated in the practice of dance. Now, this conclusion is drawn upon the fact that I did not once dance to a slow or depressing song. More research might be done to examine the difference (Oh dear, research is following me everywhere...).
Now, I am finding that my friends do not actually read my blog (disappointing), because not one of them rose to the challenge of texting or messaging me to force an impromptu dance party in whatever situation I found myself in at that moment. Guys, seriously, you're slacking. However, I found that I didn't need them in order to fulfill my challenge.
No, I am quite capable of making a fool out of myself on my own. I have danced in Paneras, Starbucks, in the street, while on the phone, in my car, in a park.... To say the least, it's been quite a few places. I am met with some smiles, some confused looks, and some truly appalling looks of disgust at my public display of musical expression. In a way, it feels good to be expressive. After all, one thing student teaching taught me is that you have to be able to put yourself out there for your students to even remotely care about what you are saying.
Anyways, the point is that it's time for the next challenge, which I now have to think up. Hrmmm... Any suggestions?

The courage to be IMPERFECT.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I spend a lot of time watching TED talks, especially lately. Well, recently I have been watching a lot of talks surrounding psychology and a few days ago, the following talk caught my eye:





Brene Brown speaks about the power of vulnerability in a fashion that truly spoke to me. At one point, she says that in order to have connection with other people, we need to allow ourselves to be seen (what she calls excruciating vulnerability). Now, in order for this to be possible, she insists that a person must need to feel worthy of belonging and connection. 


Courage: the original meaning, Brown shares, was to tell your life story with your whole heart. In other words, they were willing to let go of everyone else's and their own expectations of who they should be, and instead focus on who they were. What made them vulnerable is what made them beautiful. 


I feel I have to make a confession here, because after I watched this talk for the first time, I had one of those moments of clarity. I'm sure anyone who reads this has had one before. Something you see or read or hear triggers this sense of certainty about something or about yourself. Well, here's the confession. I am deathly afraid of being imperfect. 


Yes, I know what this blog is called. Yes, I know that nobody is perfect. However, I am a huge perfectionist. I work endless hours editing and re-editing my work to make sure I am putting my best foot forward. I dedicate mountains of effort to attempting to do it all: be a perfect colleague, be a perfect friend, be a perfect citizen, be a perfect this, be a perfect that. It's exhausting (and to be frank, not as effective as I care to admit). 

I'm tired of trying to live up to my own expectations.

Let's be honest, I will never be perfect. The world is changing too quickly for that to be remotely possible. Also, I am human, which automatically means I am fallible. 

Yesterday was a really rough day for me. I went to a teaching career fair with probably 200 other people. Upon entering the room full of hiring districts, I was immediately overwhelmed. Sometimes I forget how much anxiety big crowds give me (I even get tense if a movie theater is full). Well, not only was I immediately intimidated by all the people around me, looking for the same thing I was (a chance at a full-time teaching position), but I was also overcome with this sense of fear (of vulnerability) that out of these 200ish people, mine would be the resume to fall short, my handshake would not be strong enough, my personality would not shine through enough. 

Well, I did survive the mayhem, but I came home with this sense of shame that I had been too overwhelmed to put my best foot forward. I was awkward and nervous and fearful while others were confident and forthcoming. 

I had no less reason to be confident. I am no less qualified, dedicated, or passionate than any of the people in that room. But I choked. I did not tell my story with my whole heart. I let fear of saying the wrong thing keep me from saying the right things. 

BUT...

I also have hope. I have now accepted that I will never be at my best during a job fair that shuffles people from table to table in a desperate manner to find the possibility of work. No, I think my "zone" is in a much smaller outlet. I know that to be a teacher is my calling. And not even I will get in my own way to becoming as such. It just might take longer than expected.