Wisdom from John Green

Hi. My name's Betsy. I ruin rugs.

I got a puppy. Usually she is sweet and perfect. 

And then she bites something she shouldn't.

Poor, teething pup.

I adore her. 

Me, the indifferent animal person, is smitten with this little nugget.

(Yes, instagram has had its fill and then some of The Bets.)

I promise. A month of blogging.

I promise to blog every single day for the next month. That is my promise to myself. I'm hoping it will kick my blogging mojo back into existence. I'm hoping I'll remember why I like blogging instead of all the reasons I find it a nuisance or overwhelming or...one more thing to worry about...takes so much more time than twitter or fb...it's passe...nobody is reading. Who cares? I'm still blogging.

And so. Day 1. I vow to blog for the next 31 days. Every day between today and February 8th. 

Who is with me? Who misses seeing a little piece of themselves in word form out there for the taking?

Dear blogging, I'm back. I promise. From the girl who really does miss you.

The Boxer a la Mumford & Sons

Word.

 

"If I'm being honest.

This has all just been

one long love letter

I've been writing to you."

(another) manifesto

I believe in sending cards and notes with handwritten, honest messages. As long as the note is a kind one.

Otherwise, I believe in writing handwritten letters for venting and then "sleeping on it". Chances are you won't want to send it after all.

I believe in doing hard things if it is right. I believe I can do hard things. I believe it is okay that I have to sometimes remind myself of that.

I believe every life has a beautiful story.

I believe in wearing horizontal stripes no matter your size or shape. I believe in stripes, damnit!

I believe in knowing how to spell and punctuate and checking to see whether you do it right or not. I believe the world judges you when you fail to do this.

I believe in all food.

I believe in freckles. Freckles should never be photoshopped.

I believe in toe nails splashed red.

I believe in Costco. I love that darn place.

I believe in smiling for photographs.
I believe in a good phone voice. Works like a charm.

I believe in the investment of a "safe" swimming suit. The kind you can walk around in without fearing something might pop out.

I believe sleep is more powerful than anyone can say.

I believe in education. Not for the increased salary. Not for the practicality. I believe that education makes us better versions of ourselves. Learning is priceless.

I believe in empathy.

I believe in traditions. Like watching this and this each year while wrapping Christmas presents.

I believe in silliness and whimsy and play. At every age.

I believe that there is always room for gratitude, and the tough things do eventually sort themselves out. I believe in reminding myself of this often.

I believe in forgiving myself.

I believe in forgiving others.

I believe that teaching isn't just what I do, it is who I am.

I believe in my students becoming good and beautiful people. I hope I am right.

I believe in loving and celebrating my body. Even when it is so very easy not to.

I believe a good hair day makes a good day.

I believe in comments. (Hint, hint.)

I believe I'm done. For now.

My Neuroses Know No Limit

Last week I had a panic attack. I was in my office grading and I felt trapped, as though all of the contents in my office at school were closing in on me. I am lucky enough to have a 9 x 7 little square of space for me and me alone. It has a door. That locks. This little nook is my sanity some days, the place I go and listen to music while I grade or avoid my to do list and simply let the seething of a frustrated teacher ooze out of me during prep period. My office is where I sit when that final bell rings and typically ask "what just happened to me?" 180 days out of the year.

And yet, I couldn't breathe.

(Old silly picture of me pointing out a giant zit for the recipient of the photo, I'm pretty sure--

featuring my messy, survival-mode, office in the background.

And Edgar Allen Poe w/ his raven hangin' on the microwave.)

Enter Pinterest. Specifically this little idea space of mine on Pinterest. Once you've visited the dark side of neurotic organization, there is no turning back.

After many hours of work in the midst of teaching my final days of school with the antsy adolescents, several trips to the dumpster/recycling bins, and a semi-pricey little jaunt to Ikea, my life has gone from chaotic and over-stimulating to still chaotic but perhaps more aesthetic.

Behold (and please forgive my hazy phone pics):

(My desk has NEVER known a life this clean during my entire career.)

(These shelves never used to look like this. Trust me. It was ugly.)

(I purchased this small floor shelf to add a little more storage space for some easy to access office supplies.)

(My previous bulletin board "design" was a little too frenetic for me--if I liked it, I pinned it on somewhere.

I took everything down and covered it with some mini-chevron fabric and decided to choose my favorite

pin-ons to frame the edges--because, let's be honest, the fabric wasn't quite wide enough.

I'm sure more of the day-to-day business of school will be added next year; but for now it is clean!)

I can now breathe again. I love my new-to-me, very organized, very lovely little office.

Maybe the next time I actually blog again I can tell you all about my date

with a hot anesthesiologist coming up on Saturday. If I blog again.