And I’m Dancing Again.
I quit my job on a sunny day in June. When I was through with the formalities and reassurances that everything was kosher and we all wished each other well, I stepped out under a clear blue sky and did not look back.
It took me weeks of frenzied phone calls to my parents and rants to my roommate to reach the point of quitting. I listed out endless pros and (somewhat less) endless cons to leaving the company after only a few months and several premature declarations that this was my dream job. Listen, I’m textbook type-A, and my brain sputters into chaos without a strict routine and a sense of direction to keep it in check, so the thought of voluntarily shedding my source of stability was laughable at first. I had no backup job lined up, no hint of a lead, no whisper of an idea of where I’d land next. The unknown was terrifying, but for the first time in a long time, the reality I faced in the present felt worse.
Actually, all of those “had’s” and “was’s” should be “have’s” and “is’s” - I have no idea where I’ll land next, and the unknown is terrifying. Choosing to quit was one of the scariest decisions I’ve ever made, but I’ve also never felt a weight lifted so immediately off of my shoulders. And for that reason alone, I would make the same choice a hundred times over.
That sunny June day is more than two months in the rearview now, and my life has slowed to what feels like a glacial pace at times. At others, I feel like a car stuck in the mud, as if I’m spinning my wheels so rapidly to keep myself busy that I’ll find myself stretched completely thin with no source of traction. I’m trying to make peace with the uncertainty of my days, but as someone who clings to routine like Rose to her floating door, my efforts have been futile.
I fill my days with as much job hunting as I can and some freelance work to keep my skills sharp, but what to do with those remaining hours is a problem I must solve anew every. single. day. I read for hours, I take long walks, I watch Love Island (currently cringing my way through a season of USA and it’s just not the same. “Can I pull you for a chat?” does not hit the same in an American accent.), I make Pinterest collages, I taught myself how to crochet.
And I’m dancing again. I’m taking ballet classes, in an effort to grasp some semblance of familiarity, but also Latin and contemporary, in an effort to step even further outside of my comfort zone than I’m already standing. It’s funny how quickly I reverted back to my ballerina identity (which, mind you, it took endless hours of heal-your-inner-child-type meditations to finally begin to shed) in the face of losing my professional one. It’s times like this that I become fascinated with my own relentless need to hold tightly to an explicit identity, rather than being okay with just, I guess, being.
My restlessness aside, I’m keenly aware that I’ve been given a rare stretch of time to slow down. With that in mind, I've been trying to be more attentive to the world around me. I can’t say I always succeed, but here are some of the things I’ve noticed in my more astute moments of observation:
Spontaneity will not, in fact, kill me! It may, in fact, lead to good things!
It’s almost impossible to learn to crochet with thin thread. Go for the thick stuff.
No matter how wildly Beyonce dances, her hair always looks amazing. Do you think she uses an Airwrap?
The best way to start a Sunday is with a coffee and two pastries: one savory, one sweet.
Sitting alone at a coffee shop armed with a book is my new favorite way to spend an afternoon.
Cobalt blue nails look best when short and square-ish.
Curiosity is an incredible personality trait. Some people may try to take advantage of yours. Don’t let them.
Everything's better with a bow on it.
Wearing a basket bag in the summer feels right.
Tying a bow on your basket bag feels right.
Vintage and thrift stores are the best places to find basket bags.
Ed Sheeran is kind of… swaggy?
When you take the first step to the side in a classic Bachata step, you have to leave your opposite hip behind (I have taken one (1) Latin class so far. Just wait until I take my second. The dance floors of Chicago won’t know what hit them).
Each of my doormen has a signature greeting they use when someone enters the building. Khan invariably comments on the weather. Matthew says he hopes you have a great rest of your day. Chord says, “Welcome home.”
Sometimes the international version of a book has a prettier cover. They’re usually worth ordering.
This is the summer I discovered those photos of Daisy Edgar-Jones and Paul Mescal (and Phoebe Bridgers) on the Met Gala carpet and frankly, I do feel that my brain chemistry has been altered.
Whatever is in alignment with you really does always find you.
Everybody seems to have a wiener dog nowadays.
I have no doubt that this list will grow with each listless day that passes. I have no idea where my next step will take me, but for now, I’m trying to enjoy these last bits of idle summer. Here’s hoping I don’t lose my mind.
xo, Ellie