Lara Zielin

When I was a high school freshman, I played on the tennis team. I was terrible. I was certainly one of the most inexperienced players out there, and I lost every game I played. I remember thinking at the time, “I should have started this sport in junior high. THEN I’d be a good player.” I didn’t play on the team the next year.

I’ve been at writers’ conferences where the same thing has happened. Not tennis — I mean, this feeling, when everyone shows their pages and I look at the other writing in the room and I think, “If I’d started getting serious about this sooner, I’d be okay right now. Everyone else smokes me.”

Except, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? That we don’t start out perfect, but that we inch toward being better. That we do it when we’re not awesome so that one day we can be sort of awesome. Or really awesome if we’re lucky.

I hear this a lot at the place where I work out and where, now, I teach indoor cycling classes. “I’d come but I’m afraid I’ll look stupid. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Dude. You know what? We all look stupid. And we all didn’t start out knowing what we were doing.

So, here’s a picture I both love and hate, and it illustrates what I’m talking about. It was taken at Elvis Fest in Ypsilanti last year. And I remember I saw it and I was like, “THAT’S how big my arms are? That’s what I look like from the side? Uuuggh, kill me now.” (Okay, but I also love the photo because, hello, hilarious Blues Brothers impersonators and, um, is that tattooed Elvis or something? Who is that guy? This photo cracks me up and horrifies me all at once.)

I love and hate this photo. Blues Brothers and tattooed Elivs? Yay! My body from the side? Less than yay.

The point is, the body in that photo above didn’t look awesome on an indoor cycling bike. Or running down the street. Or whatever. My body STILL doesn’t look awesome doing those things all the time. Better, sure, but I’m not THAT different than I was in the picture above. Ten pounds, maybe. But I feel different. And if I don’t do this stuff when I’m not awesome, then I can’t get to … anything better. It’s something I’ve learned about exercise and writing — two of my fave topics evvaaarr — but it applies to everything, I think.

Do it when you suck. When you look fat with Elvis. When you’ve gotten a thousand query rejections but you keep on writing anyhow.

Just so you don’t stay in the same place.

Uhthankyouvaaarmuch. Elvis has left the building.

Hey kids! I would like to show you some of the sites around my neighborhood.

Ready for the tour? Here goes!

Just down the street are not one but TWO dinosaur sculptures! They are these massive steel structures that could be kind of intimidating, except, I think these dinos are way super friendly. Like, they get dressed up all the time! Christmas, back to school, Easter, you name it. Here they are dressed up for Halloween.

T-rex has a cauldron and a skull in his mouth. Super fierce! Happy Halloween, T-rex!

Then, there’s his friend, the kinder, gentler brachiosaurus. Disclaimer for the dino nerds, I don’t know if it’s actually a brachiosaurus. It might be an apatosaurus or something. Just, work with me here. It’s art.

Super sweet brachiosaurus is a witch for halloween! How big would that broom have to be? A Nimbus Eight Billion, I think.

One thing I know about the people who own these dinosaurs? They have a dog — named LARA. I love her.

Down the road there is a fairy door. Now, if you’re anything like me, you loved pretending you were a magical fairy when you were a kid. So much so that you taped two pieces of paper to your back so they’d flutter like wings. Only you didn’t have tape so you used Band-Aids. And sort of wound up taping the paper to your hair because it was extra fluttery that way. And then you couldn’t get the Band-Aids out because, hello, how sticky are those little suckers? So you grabbed a scissors and cut them out. Which got you in huge, major trouble with your mom, who, even though it was the 80s, did NOT want you to have a mullet. Which you kind of did.

Anyway. Fairy door. It’s a little busted here. I don’t know what happened. Maybe a goblin? But how cute are all the little offerings around it? This makes me smile every time I see it.

Yo, fairies. I know you're magical and all, but you might want to install an alarm to deter break-ins.

And down the road is one of my favorite examples of how much people care about Mother Nature around here. The women who live here help run the Ypsilanti farmers market. And they are always growing things. They let their yard be a place for butterflies to catch their breath on the way to/from Mexico.

The bees are all like, heck yeah. We totally hang here.

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into our fab hood. Now, I’ve gotta put on a cardigan, some sneakers, and catch a trolly somewhere. Bye!

Every year, our town hosts an Elvis Festival, which draws impersonators of the King — and thousands of people who will pay good money to hear said impersonators of the King — from near and far.

This year, we attended and watched black Elvis and young Elvis and short Elvis and old Elvis — plus the Blues Brothers and Ritchie Valens — sing until the butts of fireflies glowed green in the night.

I learned many things about Elvis during this year’s Elvis Festival. Okay, that’s a lie. I didn’t learn many things. I learned one thing.

Which is that you can pick your friends, and you can pick the King, but it really works out best if the King picks you:

Long live the King!