It's the Laramie Report! Remember, that newsletter you signed up for in the Before?
It's been a few months. I keep waiting for an epiphany, some little spark of a something to write to you about, but instead there's just me, sitting on my porch, in the same holding pattern we've all been in (if we're lucky) since March.
The arc of the story has yet to emerge. Or I have yet to find it, I guess.
Yesterday I spent several hours helping high school seniors craft college application essays, in a Zoom tutoring session run by 826LA. One essay in particular was hard to crack... In the space of 350 words, you can set up a personal challenge or a struggle, but then pretty quickly you need to come out the other side and demonstrate that you overcame it. That it made you stronger. Or something.
B was writing about a ballet class. She described how competitive it was, even for "beginners." How unfriendly the other girls were. How tough and withholding the teachers, inclined to devote their time to the more accomplished students. B was incensed about this. She quit before entering the intermediate class. When I asked her why she quit—searching for some college-essay-friendly reason other than, you know, that the whole thing sounded miserable—she recalled realizing, at age ten, that she'd never be strong enough or tall enough to be a professional ballerina.
But this couldn't be her arc.
What did you learn from the experience? I asked. What was the silver lining?
We found it buried in the 800 words she'd written about working on her pirouettes, the other girls rolling their eyes, the door to the studio locked when she tried to get in early to ask for help. The silver lining was: She practiced alone, at home. She fell countless times. She slipped and fell and tried again. And she mastered the fucking double pirouette. Maybe she'd never manage a triple. Maybe she'd never play Clara in The Nutcracker. She was aware of that. But she'd put in the work. She’d learned how much she was capable of.
Here's where I add another layer of conclusion like: May you find your arc, my friends. Or: Here's to putting in the work? That's all any of us can do.
*****
This month in tacos: On July 4th, approximately one million years ago, we got a taco kit delivered from Macheen, a glorious mass of birria and two dozen blue corn tortillas, plus jars of fresh salsa and pickled onions and a ramekin of umami-perfect cotija, the Parmesan of Mexican food. Once again, we ate tacos for three days. (Pro tip from my MIL: Reheat the tortillas in a pan with a smidgen of oil, and they won't break under the weight of your juicy juicy meat.)
This month on Netflix: I loved Mati Diop's Atlantics, the first film directed by a Black woman to be in contention for the Palme d'Or at Cannes. Diop has inspired me to let a little bit of magical realism into my own work. Maybe? To be just a little bit less literal. And it's gorgeously shot. What a revelation to see nothing but Black faces and Black bodies onscreen.
This month on HBO Max: If you're seeking a diversion... Legendary is ridiculous and great, if not 100% successful as a competition show. It feels like they're making up the rules as they go along, and the way they introduce the dancers is awkward and out of order. But the skills, the bonkers costumes, THE HOST, Dashaun Wesley. Is your dress a hat? (said in one's best Dashaun) is the new catch phrase in our house.
Speaking of hats: I bought a new straw hat that I don't hate.
Please stay safe!!! Wear a hat, or a dress that is a hat. Wear sunscreen. WEAR A MASK. Check your voter registration status.
xoxo,
Laramie
p.s. Please forward this to someone who needs it. If you're seeing The Laramie Report for the first time, subscribe here to get it every month. As always, here's your trusty taco map.
The arc of the story has yet to emerge. Or I have yet to find it, I guess.
Yesterday I spent several hours helping high school seniors craft college application essays, in a Zoom tutoring session run by 826LA. One essay in particular was hard to crack... In the space of 350 words, you can set up a personal challenge or a struggle, but then pretty quickly you need to come out the other side and demonstrate that you overcame it. That it made you stronger. Or something.
B was writing about a ballet class. She described how competitive it was, even for "beginners." How unfriendly the other girls were. How tough and withholding the teachers, inclined to devote their time to the more accomplished students. B was incensed about this. She quit before entering the intermediate class. When I asked her why she quit—searching for some college-essay-friendly reason other than, you know, that the whole thing sounded miserable—she recalled realizing, at age ten, that she'd never be strong enough or tall enough to be a professional ballerina.
But this couldn't be her arc.
What did you learn from the experience? I asked. What was the silver lining?
We found it buried in the 800 words she'd written about working on her pirouettes, the other girls rolling their eyes, the door to the studio locked when she tried to get in early to ask for help. The silver lining was: She practiced alone, at home. She fell countless times. She slipped and fell and tried again. And she mastered the fucking double pirouette. Maybe she'd never manage a triple. Maybe she'd never play Clara in The Nutcracker. She was aware of that. But she'd put in the work. She’d learned how much she was capable of.
Here's where I add another layer of conclusion like: May you find your arc, my friends. Or: Here's to putting in the work? That's all any of us can do.
*****
This month in tacos: On July 4th, approximately one million years ago, we got a taco kit delivered from Macheen, a glorious mass of birria and two dozen blue corn tortillas, plus jars of fresh salsa and pickled onions and a ramekin of umami-perfect cotija, the Parmesan of Mexican food. Once again, we ate tacos for three days. (Pro tip from my MIL: Reheat the tortillas in a pan with a smidgen of oil, and they won't break under the weight of your juicy juicy meat.)
This month on Netflix: I loved Mati Diop's Atlantics, the first film directed by a Black woman to be in contention for the Palme d'Or at Cannes. Diop has inspired me to let a little bit of magical realism into my own work. Maybe? To be just a little bit less literal. And it's gorgeously shot. What a revelation to see nothing but Black faces and Black bodies onscreen.
This month on HBO Max: If you're seeking a diversion... Legendary is ridiculous and great, if not 100% successful as a competition show. It feels like they're making up the rules as they go along, and the way they introduce the dancers is awkward and out of order. But the skills, the bonkers costumes, THE HOST, Dashaun Wesley. Is your dress a hat? (said in one's best Dashaun) is the new catch phrase in our house.
Speaking of hats: I bought a new straw hat that I don't hate.
Please stay safe!!! Wear a hat, or a dress that is a hat. Wear sunscreen. WEAR A MASK. Check your voter registration status.
xoxo,
Laramie
p.s. Please forward this to someone who needs it. If you're seeing The Laramie Report for the first time, subscribe here to get it every month. As always, here's your trusty taco map.
Don't miss what's next. Subscribe to The Laramie Report: