Kara, I just read Lisa Carver’s chick-lit article, which I hadn’t read since editing it five years ago. God, it is so amazing, and it provides jumping-off points for a million different 90s woman conversations.
You asked me why I thought Lisa encourages healthy recklessness. Rollerderby prioritized enthusiasm over pretty much everything else. When you live your life with that as your priority your life gets super interesting super fast.
She writes in that chicklit piece:
This is what I would tell young girls: life is big. It’s volcanic. It’s excruciating. It’s all you have, and then you’re dead. Dead! Forever! I mean, maybe you’ll fail. But failure should be big too. I despise — I spit on — this acceptance of a nearsighted life! I’d tell her: Don’t listen to anyone. You are a god. And gods are, at certain angles, terrible things to be. Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not terrible. Don’t be cute. It’s not enough. You’re better than that — better, and worse.
Everything she writes is like that: a rallying cry to a more thrilling and scarier and more important life. When you get in that headspace, you suddenly have no time for annoying people, wasted days and nights, or mediocre anything.
When I was in my twenties and found Rollerderby, I thought, by God, I am going to wear high heels and have a good time and make mistakes. As a classic Good Girl, I’d always been terrified of making mistakes. Then when I made some I realized it wasn’t so scary after all. She is a liberator, that Lisa Carver.