Some days are a challenge from the beginning

My memoir has taken a very depressing turn. Jennifer Sey, the main character, has become fascinated in eating disorders. She is only ten at the time and already gymnastics has become a dreaded part of her life; while she still loves it she is terrified of disappointing her coaches and parents. The fear is getting to her mentally and physically. She bites her lip until it becomes a huge canker sore, and then she continues to bite it every time she is scared or nervous for a skill. "The fear never abates. It is constant, relieved only in the instant I have landed on my feet. It surges again and again and again. Agitation and fright is my perpetual state of existence. But I ignore it as I climb back up onto the beam..." (70) Sey fights a constant battle of fear, not just of the obvious danger but also the fear of disappointment and failure. 

Sey's description between good days and off days is flawless. "On a good day, when injuries didn't rankle, being in the gym was like flying. I felt invincible, not held back by the typically assumed constraints of the body. The flying wasn't what most people would imagine. It was never the flipping-through-the-air part. It was the being on the ground but feeling weightless and suspended" (99) On good days gymnastics is great. Everything seems to come easily; swinging and landing just seem so natural. But on bad days even the simplest of skills take everything out of you. "...on these days, even my skin pained me... A bad day at the gym for a gymnast was never like a bad day in the pool for a swimmer. My times wouldn't just be slower. I knew the danger was real. It was possible that I would land on my head, break my neck. I could, conceivably, die"(100) I don't know this to the extent that she does obviously but I know how the fear amplifies exponentially on the not so good days. The easiest of skills always seem to be a mystery on those days; never knowing where you're going to land because every turn feels different. 

Seeing past the obvious

Starting to write a college application essay was eye opening to say the least. I didn't realize they were so short; I was picturing a huge 10 page essay describing everything that has happened in my life and how it affected me as a person. For Seattle Pacific my essay is coming along well, I just need to cut out the unimportant details. I need to cut out a lot of documentation and add more analysis. For La Crosse I haven't really figured out what I am going to write about because the prompt focuses more on what I can bring to the campus and I don't know how to write that exactly. Somehow I need a way to answer the question while still telling a story so I can connect the two.

The short memoir we annotated in class really helped to explain the method used to write memoirs. Although, using one small seemingly insignificant memory to explain views the writer has on life is definitely easier said than done. My writing is not quite poetic enough to pull such an extreme example off; he was able to describe his drunk uncle, his relationship with the family, and his feelings toward them as well without directly saying anything. I need to work on annotating because I completely skimmed over some of the things the class pulled from the piece.

Positive Thoughts, Positive Outcomes

The day I figured out the mental part of my flick-lay on high beam was, shockingly, a moment that has the way I approach obstacles. I stepped up, positioned myself in line with a small crack in the wall in front of my beam, and without thinking, swung my arms and did the series. I finished, and while I was surprised that I had stayed on, I was more surprised that I hadn't died in the process. The butterflies faded and I really started to think about what I had done differently. Finishing my series assignment was always less about staying on the beam and more about doing it in the first place. I fought a war with myself before every attempt; going through every painful possibility of how the series would land. Thinking to myself as I stood on the beam "What if my hands are a little too far to left?", "Wow, I've stuck three in a row. This one is almost guaranteed to crash.", or "What if I suddenly forget how to do a back handspring (something I've been doing for years) and completely die?". After this series though, I realized how counter intuitive this interrogation was. Feeding one's mind with negative thoughts before doing something even the slightest bit risky turns into a self professing prophecy.    Flick Lay Video

Turning Something into Nothing

Based on the essay we looked at in class I decided to commit to reading Chalked Up by Jennifer Sey instead of Shawn Johnson's memoir. While Shawn Johnson's story would have been more relatable and interesting for me I decided that Sey's story has been bottled up enough to make a true memoir. Johnson's olympic experience happened only a few years before she published her memoir and according to the article, a great memoir takes time and privacy; the author's 'valve' needs to explode rather than be forced open. Publishing her memoir so soon ultimately turned her wonderful experience into a short half baked story instead of allowing it to develope into the great memoir it had potential to be. Sey's story is more depressing and the things she experienced shaped how she viewed herself. The book also shows how she learned to deal with the negative image. This memoir encompasses the experience, the result, and the recovery, which makes for an interesting read.

I loved the slam poetry we looked at in class. The poet used one small memory in his life and used it to describe much larger ideas of life. He made a seemingly useless catch phrase apply to things he struggles with and how he gets past obstacles. I have never thought about poetry being a memoir. The way he let something so small explain so much of his life shows that the essay was right; in order to make something out of nothing pressure is needed. He turned a bratty little kid into a beautiful metaphor through years of thought and processing. He was able to show that the need to be in control at a young age never really goes away.

Wait, does she even go here?

For years I have been nearly invisible. I grew up in jeffco and I went to Standley Lake for freshman and sophomore year. Even though I had grown up with everyone there they had no idea who I was on the outside let alone my story, so this pretty much sums up my life. 

All You Need to Know

There is a beauty in perseverance, and the ability to keep going with a smile on your face is nothing less than inspiring. Whether it is a hard practice, a big let down, or a hard fall I believe that it is important to get up and keep going. Failure is something that plays an important role in my life. That may sound pessimistic but it is entirely true; failure is how you get better. I am a level 10 gymnast so failure is something I have had plenty of time to get comfortable with, and the further I get in this sport the more I have learned to embrace imperfection. Less than desirable experiences have made me who I am. "It ain't about how hard you hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep movie forward..." for the past few months I have lived by this statement. I have realized that a 'perfect gymnastics career', while still impressive, does not leave as much of an impact as the gymnast who has been through hell and back to get where she is. Failure and  imperfection mean you are changing something, they are signs that you are trying to get better. Failure does not define a person; it is simply a necessary step to success. 

One single flower on a run down house is almost more beautiful than an entire garden of bright, colorful, perfectly planted flowers. The organic nature of the flower makes its growth mean so much more because its not the same as its surroundings.  Standing alone makes the flower more vulnerable, delicate, and real. The same can be said about people; the people that do what they want instead of worrying about the people around them are often more beautiful than the people who try to fit in. Vulnerability shows courage and it brings confidence. This is something I have struggled with, but over the past couple of years I have been surrounded with people who have helped me find the truth in it. The person I am today is not even close to the person I used to pretend to be. I still have trouble walking through a crowd of people alone or getting up in front of the class, but I am not as dependent on what other people say about me as I used to be.  I realized the beauty in being comfortable and stopped trying so hard to be liked.  

 The two people in this picture mean the entire world to me. My older sister Brittney has been my best friend for a number of years. Growing up, I was always at practice and when I was home she was usually hanging out with her boyfriend. My freshman year was when that all changed. She was a senior and had to drive me to and from school everyday. Soon she was sharing her closet, food, and free time with me. She is the first person I go to if I need advice, a pep talk, or just a good laugh. Last November she moved out and for the first time I was an only child, that change has made me appreciate her even more than I already did. The other person is my dad. He has been my biggest supporter since day one. He knows exactly what to say whether its right before we get to a meet, on the drive home from a bad one, or if I am just really stressed out. He can make me smile on what seems to be the worst day of my life and I am incredibly lucky to have such a fantastic dad.