That remark, grandstand or arena, stupid and controlling as it was, popped me right back into the arena I have spent a lifetime getting out of. The arena is not a nice place. Instead of one nasty woman telling me what I am, it is filled with gladiators and they all want me dead. Grandstand? Whew! Saved. Only I had to watch all those arena people, some of whom I might love, fighting to the death and dying.
"Feeling love has made me a happier person than I was without him." It does do wonders. "Accident, I’m talking about accident. The sudden arrival of a choice to get on a plane or miss the flight. The hazard of meeting a person whose offhand and unplanned remark about grandstands and arenas might color your life." As in the fun movie Sliding Doors, with Gwyneth Paltrow. As a journalist, who's supposed to listen, I'll let other arena-hounds leave me in the grandstand.
oh, how this piece enthralled me. just when i was wondering, "wtf does that mean, grandstand vs. the arena of life?" you then articulate what it means to you based on your experiences vs. what that frenemy likely meant. i love the phrase "joyous seriousness." and i love accidents. the way life can swerve and surprise is the one thing that makes up for how shitty all the rest of it often is.
I think the woman's comment could easily be recognised as grandstanding in a very judgemental way, and is truly an ugly, passive aggressive trait in some people who pursue intellectual activity. I agree with Ancestory, you have used that to better advantage by giving us something to think about. Thank you.
I am also fascinated by that random turning point. I wrote a post about it, stimulated by the fact that my 18-year-old grandson is waiting to hear where he goes to university (depending on his grades). At his age I felt a failure for life because I didn't get into Radcliffe. Instead, I went to a mid-West university, took a junior year abroad to London, met my English husband-to-be (we are now married 60 years very happily) and, after a period together in the US, ended up living in London, which suited me better than the US ever would have. And, I might add, I do not feel like a failure even though there is no one thing I can point to as my Arena moment.
I love the idea of a shadow. That's the whole point of the Joyce story "The Dead," the shadow of Michael Furey hanging over Gabriel and his wife. And that's the theme as well of The Age of Innocence, which i just finished reading last night. Ellen shadows Newland's life.
I may reference, with due credit, your idea of a shadow in my next post, which will be a reaction to ambition or lack thereof in Newland Archer in ""Age" and how it relates to my own life.
I entered the arena really only once when I met my wife. Then hand in hand we retreated to the grandstand. Although writing personal essays on Substack is perhaps more arena than grandstand.
There have been two pronouncements that have radically marked me. One was that I wasn't a good traveller and the other was that I was 'too sensitive': the first is true and the second I have carried as a badge with pride ever since I started writing fiction. I think it very much depends on who is making these judgements about us and I will have to think more about that! A long time ago, someone once told me that they loved the way I dressed because it seemed like I didn't care how I looked. I've never known how to take that!
BTW, I love the way your writing seems to be moving of its own accord rather than following a pre-concieved plan. It's like very elegant freewriting!
You put a kinder color on the remark. She was saying I wouldn’t have much of a life. My interests were not serious enough. I have often been told that.
Then that kind of comment—so rude—seems sourced in envy. There is nothing more infuriating to people than a woman who lives as she chooses. Well done, you.
I don't think she was envious. It just popped out of her mouth. Who knows what she meant. I don't look for motives in people. This may be surprising to hear. I don't analyze people's motive, including my own, because I don't think these things are knowable. In any case, I interpreted the remark and carried it on. I think I am talking about how what might be a small throwaway line from a person can stay with you and to consider the natural history of the remark as I have carried it around.
But now I’m going to think about what you wrote about motives—being unknowable—all day. I love the idea—that they’re not knowable. They’re all I think about.
Yes. Your line “Whenever someone tells you what you are, straight out, it’s a form of casting a spell on you.” What a brilliant gem of an observation and spot on. When I restacked the piece in notes I did it with this quote.
Laurie, this took me to a place I didn’t expect, the thing I love about essays. Your experience made me think about my own choices, how accidental they were/are, my own subway map of leaps of faith and shadows. I would hazard that almost everyone has shadows; it’s not an either/or. And maybe there are times when it’s okay to be in the grandstands, observing the power players, allowing yourself to be one raindrop (another Marukami reference) in the vast fall of rain.
I interpret the grandstand as sitting and watching your life go by, and getting in the arena as taking those risks and living your best life, which you did. Maybe she was concerned that you would sit on the sideline. She reminds me of a teacher in grade school who told me I was lazy. For me, it was a wake-up call. I still think of her fondly, even though that was a bit harsh. Great post.
First, Abigail is identical to my rescued tabby who sits beside me as I write and on me during yoga. Second, this: "it strikes me there was a kind of joyous seriousness in joining forces with this person...." I am so glad you are with "this person" and shaking off the words of "that person."
I loved how you took that shitty display of hostility and dominance and created a beautiful reflection. You gave me much to think about today. Thanks.
Ah, you are so much my reader. Huge thanks for getting the gist of this. xxL
Ahhh Laurie, I love this!!
Thanks!!
That remark, grandstand or arena, stupid and controlling as it was, popped me right back into the arena I have spent a lifetime getting out of. The arena is not a nice place. Instead of one nasty woman telling me what I am, it is filled with gladiators and they all want me dead. Grandstand? Whew! Saved. Only I had to watch all those arena people, some of whom I might love, fighting to the death and dying.
She was quite awful I think in an edgy, unconscious way. I represented a kind of dreaded chaos, perhaps.
Some of us might prefer you as a chaos bringer.
"Feeling love has made me a happier person than I was without him." It does do wonders. "Accident, I’m talking about accident. The sudden arrival of a choice to get on a plane or miss the flight. The hazard of meeting a person whose offhand and unplanned remark about grandstands and arenas might color your life." As in the fun movie Sliding Doors, with Gwyneth Paltrow. As a journalist, who's supposed to listen, I'll let other arena-hounds leave me in the grandstand.
oh, how this piece enthralled me. just when i was wondering, "wtf does that mean, grandstand vs. the arena of life?" you then articulate what it means to you based on your experiences vs. what that frenemy likely meant. i love the phrase "joyous seriousness." and i love accidents. the way life can swerve and surprise is the one thing that makes up for how shitty all the rest of it often is.
Thanks, dear one. Facebook threw us together onto the same beach! There’s an “accident”!
I think the woman's comment could easily be recognised as grandstanding in a very judgemental way, and is truly an ugly, passive aggressive trait in some people who pursue intellectual activity. I agree with Ancestory, you have used that to better advantage by giving us something to think about. Thank you.
So appreciated this
Thanks a lot.
I am also fascinated by that random turning point. I wrote a post about it, stimulated by the fact that my 18-year-old grandson is waiting to hear where he goes to university (depending on his grades). At his age I felt a failure for life because I didn't get into Radcliffe. Instead, I went to a mid-West university, took a junior year abroad to London, met my English husband-to-be (we are now married 60 years very happily) and, after a period together in the US, ended up living in London, which suited me better than the US ever would have. And, I might add, I do not feel like a failure even though there is no one thing I can point to as my Arena moment.
I love what you wrote here!. xxL
Laurie, I love every word of this grandstand/arena post.
Yeah!
I love the idea of a shadow. That's the whole point of the Joyce story "The Dead," the shadow of Michael Furey hanging over Gabriel and his wife. And that's the theme as well of The Age of Innocence, which i just finished reading last night. Ellen shadows Newland's life.
I may reference, with due credit, your idea of a shadow in my next post, which will be a reaction to ambition or lack thereof in Newland Archer in ""Age" and how it relates to my own life.
I entered the arena really only once when I met my wife. Then hand in hand we retreated to the grandstand. Although writing personal essays on Substack is perhaps more arena than grandstand.
Thanks! Lovely. You got it.
Very thought-provoking, Laurie.
There have been two pronouncements that have radically marked me. One was that I wasn't a good traveller and the other was that I was 'too sensitive': the first is true and the second I have carried as a badge with pride ever since I started writing fiction. I think it very much depends on who is making these judgements about us and I will have to think more about that! A long time ago, someone once told me that they loved the way I dressed because it seemed like I didn't care how I looked. I've never known how to take that!
BTW, I love the way your writing seems to be moving of its own accord rather than following a pre-concieved plan. It's like very elegant freewriting!
Dear Kathy,
When people tell women they are "too sensitive," they mean stop objecting to the way the world diminishes you. They mean shut up.
What you read of mine is never "free writing." It is all a performance, carefully structured and thought out. It's all artifice, like any form of art.
xxL
I take such pleasure in your sentences. That's the most important thing to tell you.
Initially, when I read her arena/grandstand comment, I thought,
"Well, Laurie's a writer. Of course she's in the grandstand, she's observing everything. It's what writers do."
I've always felt on the periphery, which in my mind is the grandstand. But you made me think of this differently, and I love that.
You put a kinder color on the remark. She was saying I wouldn’t have much of a life. My interests were not serious enough. I have often been told that.
Then that kind of comment—so rude—seems sourced in envy. There is nothing more infuriating to people than a woman who lives as she chooses. Well done, you.
I don't think she was envious. It just popped out of her mouth. Who knows what she meant. I don't look for motives in people. This may be surprising to hear. I don't analyze people's motive, including my own, because I don't think these things are knowable. In any case, I interpreted the remark and carried it on. I think I am talking about how what might be a small throwaway line from a person can stay with you and to consider the natural history of the remark as I have carried it around.
But now I’m going to think about what you wrote about motives—being unknowable—all day. I love the idea—that they’re not knowable. They’re all I think about.
Let me know if you'd ever like to work one-on-one for a short time to talk about these techniques. xxL
Thank you!
Yes. Your line “Whenever someone tells you what you are, straight out, it’s a form of casting a spell on you.” What a brilliant gem of an observation and spot on. When I restacked the piece in notes I did it with this quote.
Laurie, this took me to a place I didn’t expect, the thing I love about essays. Your experience made me think about my own choices, how accidental they were/are, my own subway map of leaps of faith and shadows. I would hazard that almost everyone has shadows; it’s not an either/or. And maybe there are times when it’s okay to be in the grandstands, observing the power players, allowing yourself to be one raindrop (another Marukami reference) in the vast fall of rain.
I interpret the grandstand as sitting and watching your life go by, and getting in the arena as taking those risks and living your best life, which you did. Maybe she was concerned that you would sit on the sideline. She reminds me of a teacher in grade school who told me I was lazy. For me, it was a wake-up call. I still think of her fondly, even though that was a bit harsh. Great post.
i'd rather spend a dinner out with you than your, ahem, old acquaintance. ah the places i go when i open your stack. always leave me pondering...
much gratitude.
And gratitude to you.
First, Abigail is identical to my rescued tabby who sits beside me as I write and on me during yoga. Second, this: "it strikes me there was a kind of joyous seriousness in joining forces with this person...." I am so glad you are with "this person" and shaking off the words of "that person."
You see that look on Abigail Cat's face? That's me looking at your comment. xxL