Teacher Appreciation Day.

I've had many teachers. I've had a teacher that bullied me, a teacher that exhibited sexist discrimination towards what I chose to don my body in (never mind the fact that it's not the female's fault when boys are distracted, it's the boys who can't handle their hormones), a teacher who used to toss tootsie rolls that had been softened by the overhead heater to students who answered the right questions (he was the best!), and even a teacher who gave me a graduation present, one whom I continue to be in contact with to this day. 

But there's one teacher that remains an important educator, one who, at the time, said something I felt repulsed by, but that I now look back on and thank, for she was right. 

It was sophomore year at Kenai Central High School. I was shuffling along, looking longingly at the clocks in every classroom counting the hours till the boring and domestic drudgery could end and I was free to go and dance my heart out after school.

There was a new teacher in town, and she taught my favorite class: English. At that time, I was as much a writer as I am now, but my future was full of hopeful aspirations in the entertainment industry. I was pursuing modeling, acting, singing, and dancing, a career bright with paparazzi and fame. 

It was after class, and as I was putting away my journal, that I realized I was the last one to exit the room. As I smiled at my teacher on the way out, she stopped me.

I don't exactly remember the precise details of how this came about, but I think we had just been handed back written papers. A paper I had probably and unsurprisingly scored an A on.

She looked at me and said: Elan, I know you're a talented performer and want to be in the entertainment industry, but you are a fantastic writer and you should never give that up. You have the potential to make a career out of this, I just want you to consider that. 

Like I said at the beginning, I was turned off by the comment. In a time where my only concerns were how to pose best in photographs, dance with soul, and be the first one to sit front row at auditions, I couldn't believe that this teacher had the balls to tell me I should pursue anything but a career in the arts.

I look back now and think my gosh, she was absolutely right. 

Don't get me wrong, I would still love to sing, act, dance, and model, but what really sets my soul on fire is writing. 

I always knew I had a voice. And at the time, I communicated it through different outlets: dance, song, performance, photography, and through my fingertips as they raced across the keyboard and frantically went to work on paper. This teacher saw that, but she noticed that it was best exhibited through writing, and she wanted me to consider the possibility of making that a part of my career, a career in communication.

She encouraged me to consider other options. She inspired me to pursue something I hadn't really considered a possibility, and I thank her each and every day for that. 

I see now that my future belongs in communication, as my passion is sharing/telling/presenting something that needs to be said to an audience. Whether that's through dance, song, performance, or modeling, I can now count writing alongside those options.

All along, that teacher was write (Pun intended. By now, you should know that all of my puns are likely intended).

And for that, I thank you, Mrs. Nabholz. 

Here is a VERY throwback photo for you. Elan, wee age of 16, a sophomore in high school...

I also still have that sweater. Wow I keep clothes a long while.

All By Myself?

I sit here in my new home and I look around at all the work I've done to get to where I am. 

Outside on our deck, a George Foreman grill stands strong that I put together. In our living room, a lamp sits proudly, a lamp that I purchased and found a way to light. In the hallway, various art pieces hang, art that I measured, eyeballed, stud searched, and nailed into the wall. In my bedroom, a colorful and eclectic display of items decorate my room that I packed, shipped, and unloaded all by myself. Wafting through the house, there's the aroma of dinner cooking that I shopped for, paid for, and prepared.

And I did this all by myself. 

Man, what a feeling. 

Harking back to Celine Dion's iconic All By Myself song, sung in lonely desperation by Bridget Jones, I resonate very well with being by myself. All my life, I've grown accustomed to being by myself, especially in the relationship department. I have yet to go on more than a few dates with someone, have yet to have a boyfriend, and have yet to go a week without being asked about my height or called intimidating.

Throughout my high school and college years, I watched as my friends got boyfriends, became pregnant, got married, had babies, and all the while, I pushed on, just me, myself, and I.

*cue G-Eazy

And all the while, I became completely ensconced in my own company. I wasn't lonely, as there's a difference, but I was alone. While everyone around me went out, dated, and had relationships, I got to know myself very intimately. I became comfortable in my own skin, my own company, and I learned early on that I have what it takes to go forth in this world without needing someone else. 

Granted, there were (and are) plenty of moments when I wanted help. I would've jumped at the offer of someone helping me hang art, but alas, I was once again stuck with myself and I managed to do so just fine, albeit the art hangs just a wee bit crooked. 

Sometimes, I watch with envy as my roommates help each other and work together as a team and I long to know what that feels like, but then I remind myself that the power all lies within me and I do have what it takes to do things by myself, as troubling as it is at times. And I remind myself that someday, I will have someone special to help me. 

There's a Rupi Kaur quote that inspires me and fits this situation quite perfectly:

what is the greatest lesson a woman should learn

that since day one

she's already had everything she needs within herself

it's the world that convinced her she did not

Everywhere I look, there's messages and photos that tell me that I'm not good enough by myself. I'm surrounded by the idea that I need something else, someone else to fulfill who I am in order to succeed. To that, I take my own hammer and nails and prove to the world that I am complete and that I can do what I set my mind to, which doesn’t always mean relying on someone else. 

What I’m learning whilst being all by myself has to do with becoming independent. And when I do get help hanging up art someday, it will be because I want help, not because I need it (unless it’s really heavy, in which case then yes, I do need help).

So you see, while I'm technically, by the book, "all by myself", I remain whole all by myself. 

And that is the greatest strength of all.