"like riding a bike"

as kids, we all had to learn how to ride a bike. had to. our parents would buy us a shiny new bike when we got tired of the tricycle, and stick on the training wheels until we weren't afraid of falling anymore and whined to learn how to ride a "two-wheeler, like the bigger kids." it's the classic moment of one of the many accomplishments a child makes--they sit on the bike and slowly start pedaling. mommy or daddy is behind them, holding on to their backs. as the child picks up speed, the parents find they can no longer keep up and soon let go, and the kid may speed happily along the sidewalk, or sail gracefully through the air.

embarrassing as this is, i never learned how to ride a bike properly. the first bike i was ever shown when i was four, i proceeded to scream and cry and refuse to get on that thing; i'd seen too many tv shows where kids had fallen off and scraped their knees because they had gone too fast down a hill or around a corner. i was afraid i would make that mistake. cut to four years later and i was riding a bike--with the training wheels still on. i was afraid to take them off; i'd already had too many spills for my liking, and was terrified after seeing my brother go down a hill too fast and take a nasty header that almost required stiches. finally, not out of fear but just out of lack of interest, my bike was given to my little cousing years later, after being cooped up in a dusty storage shed.

exactly what i was afraid, i've known all along, but i'm just now reflecting upon. i couldn't balance. i couldn't go fast enough, because the pent-up fear inside my legs screamed at me not to. and i couldn't gain balance if i didn't go fast enough.

i seem to always label myself as the "crazy one" out of my bunch of friends, but i just realized the other night, when four of us were hanging out, that i was actually practical and sensible compared to the rest of them. maybe it's the fact that i've been raised by two navy parents. it wasn't a strict upbringing, but one a little less freer than most (which i actually thank them for now). it was a sensible upbringing. but i tend to hold back a little, a lot.

i'm an actress. a very amateur one, but one nonetheless. (i lettered in drama two years in a row--ha!) my drama teacher is always trying to persuade us to take more risks. by that i do not mean acrobatics on stage, of course. i mean risking your vulnerability; maybe not just your character's, but your own as well. meaning putting yourself out there, creatively and mentally and sometimes emotionally, to fit into your character's skin and let them shine instead of you. there have been a few moments when i'm onstage, under the bright lights, in front of an audience, where i'm forced to go against all that my comfort begs to hold back. and it feels so...refreshing? i don't know how to describe it, but you feel so alive when you realize you've crossed the boundary between acting and being. it's pretty intense.

i'm thinking i should apply that to my real life as well. the other day my brother was riding around on his bike, and for a moment, i asked if i could try riding it. he looked skeptical and a little confused, but he let me anyway. i tried pedaling fast, but i began to sway, and knew i'd lose my balance, so i put my foot down and stopped.

but it's a start.

-d