My life before it's filled with cats
Girls shouldn’t fear for their lives when they’re just living them. Girls who are impassioned about their worlds, who want nothing more than to engage with their world, learn about that world, build empathy for this place and the people around them, who use their knowledge and their passion to give voice to their beliefs shouldn’t worry about their bodies—or their lives—being at stake for doing so.
And yet, because we’re asking for and raising our voices without waiting for permission to do so, it happens.
Kelly Jensen (catagator), Advocating for and Writing About Girls is a Radical Act
Make sure you read that. Make sure you share it so other people will too. And don’t miss reading and sharing these posts either:
Author Laura Ruby (thatlauraruby) - AO Scott Would Like Another Harvey Wallbanger Please
Author Anne Ursu (anneursu) - On Poisoned Apples, the “Great YA Debate” and the Death of the Patriarchy
Don’t forget Robin Wasserman (robinwasserman) on Girl Trouble -
I’ve kept a journal since I was in the first grade (back then I called it a diary and even started my entries with, ‘Dear Diary’). My journal entries now are few and far between and usually abrupt, but I still try to write down something whenever I remember I have my journal. The entries usually start with ‘I’m so tired’.
I was writing in my journal tonight (about how tired I was), but stopped (because I was too tired) and started to read random entries. These two made me smile so hard that I had to type them up.
I started the first entry and didn’t finish, and the second one is the next entry that fleshes the first out.
I just had my second to last improv 101 class.
11/14/11 6:43pm Monday
I wish I knew what I was going to write about my second to last improv class. I’m sure it would have been something along the lines of ‘I never knew I could be so happy. I want to do this for the rest of my life, etc., etc., etc!’
I had my graduation performance on October 15, 2011 and it was with a doubt the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. I really can’t remember one moment in my life when I’ve been that happy.
[I’m omitting a part where I talk about the set because it doesn’t make sense if you didn’t see it.]
I really left the stage beaming and couldn’t stop smiling all weekend. My teacher’s name is Betsy Stover. I don’t know if I could feel as good and confident as I am now if I didn’t have her as a teacher. I’m still saving up to take my next class. I miss improv a shit ton. It blows not having it, especially with my job being so shitty. I’m just really glad I found something that makes me genuinely happy.
I’m no longer at that miserable job. I still love improv. I get to do it all the time now, almost every night. Recently, I feel like I forgot how much I love it and how happy it makes me, and instead I’ve been using this art form to shit on myself. I want so badly to be good that I forgot the reason why I wanted to be good in the first place: to give something back to the thing that at one point made me “the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”
I’m going to try not to forget this again. I want to carry this memory with me when I have bad sets or scenes, and know that I am doing something that lights up my days and makes me so happy.
I loved reading this and remembering that day. Improv was magic to me and through some dumb luck I signed up for that class and I got to be magic for a day.