Wednesday, March 30, 2011


I'm not a risk-taker.  Not really.  I make calculated decisions to take "risks" (note the air bunnies) that I know are not quite so risky.  Par example:  I know that every roller coaster in Disneyland will move enough to get my heart pounding, but not so fast as to create an ohmyGodI'mgoingtodierightnow fear.  This past weekend the kids on our trip convinced me to go on Tower of Terror one time; I agreed, but on the condition they understood that I would be genuinely afraid and genuinely feeling the aftereffects of ohmyGodIdon'tlikedroppingelevatorsI'mamotherforcrap'ssake as soon as we got off the ride.  I'm good for one of those experiences per year.  I have successfully filled my quota and I may be taking applications for next year's ride soon.

Having a motorcycle in our family pushes me to the absolute limits of comfort.  Though I'm more used to it now because we have one, I have very distinct feelings about what is and is not okay in my little anxious heart.  I will never be at ease with it. Helmets and protective clothing are a must, but I also know that I'm much more comfortable cruising surface streets than freeways.  A jaunt down I-5 in San Diego with a buttload of semi trucks was enough to cure me of any illusions about how comfy I'm going to be chillin' on the back of a bike at freeway speeds.  It felt like human Frogger.  My bravery only goes so far.

A couple of years ago I took some dance students to Disneyland for a workshop.  This only added to the fanatic admiration I have for Disney; the instructor was so good with the kids.  She asked them about why people like to ride the "E ticket" rides--what makes them worth waiting in huge lines?  The answer was the thrill.  People like to be pushed to their limit, to have their heart race and their blood pound.  When we watch a good dance performance, we get a thrill too.  (And I would add that from a performer's standpoint there's equal incentive for a thrill.)  That's why it is a dancer's job to look like she is having the most fun any person could have in her life.  It makes the audience experience the thrill right along with her.

I love to be on stage.  I'll cop to it:  I'm a total attention whore under the right circumstances.  It still gets my heart racing (even for a silly thing like dancing with other teachers) and I still want to do a good job.  But I've been there enough that I know I can control it... there's no way it can end badly because just getting out there is the whole deal.  It's a safe risk--I'm addicted.

Thrill-seeking doesn't seem to look great on me.
Tomorrow night we have our annual Staff GQ and I'll be dancing with my teacher buddies.  I'm exhaustipated, but I can't wait.  It promises to be hilarious (see picture above referencing the Creep) and I know it will be a thrill.  If only I could develop some super duper patience.  The waiting is killing me.

1 comment:

  1. I used to take a ridiculous number of risks. Five years ago NOTHING scared me. Ten years ago I don't even think I considered fright an option.

    Sometimes I miss my risk-taking self. My fearless self. It's still there, but it's curled up in a little ball, doing some kind of yoga pose waiting for its moment to shine ... again.

    I've come to learn, the more I have, the less risky I become.

    Makes sense, right?

    And by HAVE, I don't mean material possessions.