Don't Sit it Out - Poet Laureate 2011

Poet Laureate Speech

By McKenna Hendrickson

Scappoose Middle School

June 2, 2011

Don’t Sit it Out

I love to dance.

I love to dance, except when I let myself listen to the voices in the hallways at school that say, in so many ways, “you don’t look like a dancer.”

I’ve been big and tall and red haired for years, and I have learned a thing or two about trying to ignore unkind laughter.

And this is what I know: you have to take it as a dare, and then you have to take the dare.

You have to come back to school when school sends you home crying. You have to get up, put on your game face, fight with the doubt inside yourself, stand up straight even though you want to disappear and insist upon your right to public dignity. You have a right to that, and you have a right to more. You have a right to dance.

People will tell you to hide – to make yourself less visible. Don’t do it. Don’t listen when they say that you’re too big, you’re too small, you’re too slow; that you’re too cool, you’re too clumsy, too awkward, too loud, too much, or not enough. Even if the steps you make aren’t elegant, for a few minutes, you might find that everything makes sense.

Dancing is more than a string of movements. Dance is more than dance itself. It’s writing or building or cooking. It’s painting, collecting and singing. It’s clarinets and trombones and soccer and programming Java. It’s picking flowers and growing tomatoes, building computers, and solving equations. It’s jumping and spinning and leaping. It’s knowing that having a good heart is the most important thing. It’s having a voice.

This is what it is: it is awe, and it is wonder.

To dance is to tell a story. Tell your story. Find that dance that makes things right. Find the dance that pushes away the worries about peer pressure, being clumsy, and the SATs; about looking like a clown, homework, and untied shoes. Find the dance that sets aside fear about grades, getting a job, gossip and asking the right questions.

Classmates, parents, teachers, I hope you all dance. I hope you all recognize the right of every single person to be in the dance.

I hope you swim, think, and fly. I hope you sing, fall down and get up. I hope you think about what you say, run hard, laugh loud, and spin around in circles until you collapse in the grass.

I hope you have someone like my mom, who trusts me to be a decent person, who knows I’ll pull through the hard stuff, who reminds me that I am capable of great things, who gets me out of bed, pushes me out the door, dares me to prove my excellence, tells me that it’s all about the ride, and most all, says to me every single day, “you can dance.”

May you be so lucky. But if you aren’t, tell someone. And if you’re afraid of looking like a fool, I’ll dance with you. We’ll dance together until there are so many of us that everyone wants to join. Shut your eyes if you need too. Take a deep breath and leap into the song. Dance.

Hate it Here

I'm in a funk.  I hate it here in Portland right now.  I can write this because no one reads my blog anymore.  I can vent here and no one will judge me.  I'm alone with my thoughts.

Hot Toddy moved away.  Do Rag Dan moved away.  I'm not close with Pony any longer.  He went through so many changes and transitioned into a different place.  The Professor is back in San Frandisco.  The Handsome Prince and The Math Whiz - I guess once Toddy left it proved although we're all still friends, it was apparently mostly because of Toddy.

I feel alone.  I have no friends.  No one calls.  I reach out to spend time and it never happens.  Why do I live here?  Why am I not down south near Pua or Cathy?  At least it's warmer there.  I work from home full-time so I am literally in the walls of my house 24/7.  I work, I cook, I clean, I sleep.  I start it all over the next day.

I was staying here because I wanted Auburn Aries to go through mid- and high school with the same groups of friends like I had.  At what expense?  We don't go to have dinner with friends.  We don't go to barbeques.  We don't socialize in any way.  It's me and her all the time.

I don't mind that it's her and I.  We laugh all the time, we communicate well, we enjoy each others company.  But there's more to life and we're not living it.  How can I teach her life lessons and how to deal with things unless we're living it once in a while.

I'm lonely.  I'm unmotivated.  I'm searching - but it's all in my head.  

I spent the first half of my life in relationships.  It was hard to be in relationships with people who didn't have kids.  Now Auburn Aries is older and would understand me being in a relationship.  She wouldn't feel so robbed like she did when she was younger.

I'm happy being single - if I had a life outside this house.  My social life has died a quiet death.  There's more out there.  How long will I sit and think about it before I do something about it?

Only time will tell...ain't that the bitch of it!!  

My Friend...GuruStu

During my busiest times posting to this blog, I acquired several friends that I still hold dear.  One in particular is GuruStu.  We were introduced via our blogs and I immediately felt a spiritual connection with him.  We've spoken on the phone several times and even had plans to meet up the last time I was in L.A.  Things didn't work out that particular trip but I still keep up with him via cyberspace. 

Over the years, his words have helped me stop and take stock of my life.  He's given me insight into myself and he's helped me think about the person I am and the person I'd like to become.  He's helped me sort out what's important and what's fodder.

GuruStu posts "daily thoughts" on his website.  Everytime I receive an email with a new post I open it and take the time to read every word - no matter how "busy" I feel.  I inevitably walk away feeling more in control; feeling more capable of enjoying my life instead of feeling like life is running me over.

Back on November 17th he wrote a post entitled "Don't just make better choices; become a person who makes better choices."  You can find it on Daily Guru Thoughts.  I have a folder for GuruStu's pearls of wisdom, it's for his posts that speak me; it's for posts that I know I'll come back to when I need them. 

After reading his post about making better choices, I felt inspired.  I read the post a second and third time.  I couldn't believe how much clarity I suddenly had from the insightful thoughts of this one incredible man.  That particular post reflected deeply with me because it was how I had always lived my life but somewhere along my journey I'd lost my way.

I clicked the print button and thought I'd hang onto a hard copy.  If I could be that motivated by his words at that particular moment, I knew if read it every day it would help remind me how simple it really is to living your life and doing the right thing -- by making better choices.

When my print job completed, I pulled it off the printer and realized I had high quality photo paper in the tray.  I'd been printing photos my friends Pua and Charlie earlier in day.  I saw it as another sign that that particular post of GuruStu's was, in fact, meant for me that day.

It now hangs on the wall in my home office.

I realized at that moment that nearly every time I felt like I'd failed at something, it was because I didn't make the choice to succeed.  I didn't make (or didn't want to make) the potentially tough decisions to get there. 

It's now 10 months later and there are several other Seeds of Wisdom that hang on the wall in my home office.  It's funny...you never know who you might meet or who may make an impact in your life.  I met Hot Toddy who turned me onto blogging and subsequently pointed me to GuruStu.  I can feel Stu's energy every single day and what comes from his heart lands directly on mine....and I'm thankful for it.

Behold My New Abode

I found that living on a island outside Portland, although scenic and lovely, can cost a fortune. The 40 mile round trip to the grocery store or to the bar to meet my boys or to Auburn Aries's new middle school was not only expensive because of the gas for Stella but the time lost. Every trip off the island took an hour minimum. 30 minutes to town and 30 minutes back.

Forgot a key ingredient for dinner - an hour and half. Out of tampons - same. Not to mention the cost to run an in ground pool or the strain on my sense of humor.

I'll certainly miss those days by the pool but time had come for me to make a logical decision and move closer in. AA is playing volleyball this year and doing winter cheerleading and the location we moved to is less than a mile from her new school and within ten minutes of the grocery store. I actually had pizza delivered a couple of days ago. I haven't lived within pizza delivery range in years.

Keep in mind that in these pictures, this is not my furniture. I have no furniture. The stuff I had in my Powell Butte place was worn and was at the point it was going to need to be replaced soon. The island house was furnished so no worries there. Well, here I am in a new place without a stick of furniture.

It'll be a couple of months before I can probably afford to purchase new stuff so if any of you locals have furniture that you want to sell or get rid of, please let me know.

Boobs and Tubes

I went in for a mammogram a couple of weeks ago; on the same day I had an MRI for my lower back. Turns out there is a spot in my right breast that needs follow-up. They compared it to my mamm from last April and the spot has become more pronounced.

My immediate response was it's out of my control so I'm not going to worry about it. As the day for the tests has approached, a small crack in that foundation has appeared. Turns out I feel a little scared. What if it is something? I know there's still nothing I can do about it, but it's the uncertainty that sucks.

I watched my sister-in-law die from breast cancer about a month ago. I was with her when her journey started three years ago, when she lost her breast. I watched her get healthy only to discover the doctors never did a follow-up MRI after the mastectomy to verify they got it all - the result of which was that it had spread everywhere. I was her support while she lived with me and I carted her around for three months during radiation, doctor appointments and hospital visits.

My family's health burdens are heart disease and diabetes. All of us girls have always more or less back-burnered the idea of breast cancer - right up to the point that they call and say to need to come back for more tests. Then it's a wake up call that breast cancer has non-discriminate taste.

I'll play with whatever card I'm dealt. I don't really have a choice. And although I've talked my whole adult life about buying a set of spectacular boobs, I like mine. They are spectacular just the way they are and I'd like to keep 'em.

As for the tube part of this story, I'd just like to thank my Dad for sharing his claustrophobia. 'Nuff said.

Alright, alright, I'll start posting again!

For my sister friends who keep asking me to write again ~ I'll do it. Facebook isn't enough for me either. Besides, I miss this world.

I'll try to start later tonight or tomorrow. There's plenty to say!

Stella needs brakes, damn...

Last weekend I was driving home from C.C.'s when all of a sudden this crazy squealing came from my car. I was on the Island on the long stretch home and it scared the shit out of me. I stopped the car in the middle of the road, got out and made sure I didn't have a flat. It occurred to me then that it must have been the built in squealer on my brakes.

It was, so here I sit at the dealer waiting for them to put some new shoes on Stella. We'll not talk about the oil change that she's due (and getting) or the fact that she's over on miles. My poor Dad is probably rolling in his grave because I'm over. I can hear him now, "You're gonna burn that damn motor up, Merle. Get that damn oil changed before you do anything else."

I'm sitting just off the showroom floor and to my right I can see the front end of an '09 Mustang. I'm avoiding strolling over there to look. I can't get sucked in. It sure looks hot though. All meaty and strong, winking at me trying to lure me in.

I forgot my security fob at home so I can't gain access into the office. I hate doing stupid shit like that. I could sit here at the dealer while my car is being serviced and be a good employee and get my work done. But no. I remembered the power cord and the broadband card but not the fob. In this economy copping to the fact that you screwed up and can't get your work done isn't a good thing. I'm so mad at myself all I can do is sit here and shake my head.

Rest assured knowing that my boss felt the need to further remind me that it was not a good thing... as if I'm not beating myself up enough.

Every year our little group has gone to the coast for my birthday. We didn't go last year. Pony had started a new job and was in Boston and Toddy forgot my birthday. I turned 45 last, wait, hot girl walking through the showroom. Holy moly. That'll just take your breath away. She had on heels. Not Payless heels, but nice Norstrom heels and great legs. Anyhoo, where was I? Oh the coast run this year.

Well as it turns out Pony has made other plans this year and Pua can't make it (I'll call you soon Pua) and though Hot and Golden Boy are in for the coast run, I don't know that it will be the same. My plans were to include The Math Whiz and The Handsome Prince this year but I"m thinking about pulling the plug on the whole thing. Money is so tight everywhere that maybe it'd just be best not to go.

These bastards want to turn the rotars on my brakes and I didn't think that was necessary when I looked at them. I better go stir the pot a little and see what the deal is. $360 for brake pads all around and turning the rotars. I have to make sure they're not soaking me because I'm a girl.

More "tomorrow."