When the news is just a comment section

Most of my current affairs updates thus far are from IG stories and the TikTok FYP. So I'm trying to get into the habit of reading the news so I can access qualified journalists writing for media platforms that are credible and stuff.

Then I come across an article that's credited to two people that just reads like a comment section: 'We get distracted at home': Wellington debates pros and cons of WFH | RNZ News

The whole article is just - here are some people with opinions on the thing:

1. Former dentist Julie Towarek reckons there's "nothing wrong with it [doing chores on the clock], but you know, let's face it."
2. IT worker Aaron Eldridge reckons some people take the piss and some people do better from work and he's a "really big advocate for mental health". Really big.
3. An unnamed woman saves around $350 a fortnight since she can WFH.
4. Jacinta Harrop prefers the office but she knows others prefer home.

Four people have opinions - that's the whole article.

No contextual information. 

No data or statistics.

No expert opinion or analysis.

Just reckons.

Coolcoolcool.

Moments my students care for me

1. When they leave sweet messages on the whiteboard to say hi and that they appreciate me

2. When they pull goofy little faces and jokes to make me laugh

3. When I fell off my chair and instead of bursting out laughing, they immediately expressed concern and wouldn't move on until they were 100% sure I was alright 

4. When I tell them I'm having a bad day so my patience and capacity is low, and they are more subdued than normal for my sake

5. When they greet me by screaming and running to me for a hug

6. When they complain about a decision I've made, then listen to my reasoning, then say, "oh, yeah, okay nevermind"

7. When they bring me little snacks and just say, "here, Miss!"

8. When I'm walking through school and they offer to carry my things

9. When they tell me to take care of my mental health

10. When I apologise to them for snapping or reacting angrily at them and they say, "oh no Miss, we were being naughty!"

What if I just started writing again lol

 When I meet up with friends who I have not seen in months or years, they ask me how my writing is going.

I'm always taken aback because writing has taken such a backburner on my life, that I forget it was a thing I used to do.

I read old articles and blog posts and I feel so removed from that girl.

Did I... write?

Could I... write again?

What if it was just this? 

No depth, no nuance, no epiphanies.

What if I just wrote.

Not Nanowrimo

 I won't be writing a novel this month, but I'll be writing. 

Practice Makes Better

I started this blog in the spirit of uploading unfinished drafts. The point was to let go of perfection in favour of progress. It was supposed to add momentum to my writing - the refining will come later, much later. Just. Write.

But of course, even in a blog called "Drafts" I have 29 unpublished drafts that I can't bring myself to post. They're just not good.

As soon as I shared this blog with friends and instagram, I began treating this blog like a messy bun on pinterest - a cute and curated thing pretending to be effortless so that you think if my minimal effort writing is good, then my edited stuff must be amazing!

I want people to think I'm amazing. I'm scared of you thinking I'm bad, or worse, ~ okay ~.

But I want move past this fear.

I've handed in my resignation at work and I'm going to become a high school teacher (if I can land a job by next year...).

I don't completely understand what I'm getting myself into, but I do have at least one hope - I want my future students to love learning. I want them to feel the joy of understanding something. I want them to question, find answers, then find more questions. I want them to be okay with not knowing, not knowing how to know, and not understanding things straight away.

Not understanding them for a while.

I want them to forgive themselves for failing.

I want them to differentiate between guilt and shame. I want them to respond to guilt, and remove shame.

And to help my students work through those things, I need to accept them for myself.

I want to experience this advice so that when they do not want to do it, or struggle, or give up, or come back and give up again, I know that it's a very difficult thing I'm asking of them. Necessary, but difficult. Leading by example is not a glamorous walk along the pedestal, it's Jesus carrying his cross. (I used to be a Christian, so this imagery really sticks in my head).

Michelle Johansson said that students - young brown scholars - will look into your eyes and know if you are lying. And I don't want to lie to them.

So I will ask questions, find answers, and ask more questions.

I will learn to be okay with not knowing, not knowing how to know, and not understanding things straight away.

Not understanding them for a while.

I am learning to differentiate guilt and shame. I want to respond to guilt, and remove shame.

I want to grow so that I am able to teach what I've learned. But I also know that my future students have so much to teach me too. 

I want to grow so I am able to learn from them.

Capitalising on my love for Animorphs

I've started many drafts of an article about Animorphs. I wanted to pitch it to editors and publishers and convince them that a piece about deeply enjoying something not topical or relevant was interesting and worth being on their platform.

I wanted to say that even though Spinoff already published "I read all 54 Animorphs books in five days and it almost killed me" and thus have taken the element of nostalgic surprise, which is pretty much the only hope of a mass appeal of Animorphs, that what I had to say was indeed still interesting and worth being on their platform.

I wanted to say that that piece is more of a fun-challenge-i-subjected-myself-to-pain-for-your-entertainment thing, and mine would more of an earnest and sincere almost undescribable appreciation of the first 18 books I've been able to get my hands on.

I'd probably include Mr Knightley's quote about loving Emma less so he can talk about it more to add literary credibility to my opinion.

I wanted to write about finding joy that truly felt pure.

I wanted to write about how the joy I felt reading these books carried me truly dark times. 

I wanted to tie in how the characters tackle questions of identity, humanity, friendship, and grief gave me language to talk about my mental health, relationships,what kind of person I want to grow into, and how I see my place in the world.

I've wanted to write this for four years.

I've only realised now that one of the things stopping me is the thought of making money from what feels like such an uncapitalist exchange I have in reading these books.

Books are ultimately part of capitalism - the production and purchasing of them require it.

But finding these books, tucked away in the corner of a second-hand bookstore at $4 each just felt so removed from the system of marketing and attention hungry algorithms that writing about it on a platform whose aim is to reach as wide of an audience as possible may take away from this quiet and profound joy I've found.

So I wrote it here instead. A very small and quite corner of the internet that I make no money. Publishing this still makes me productive though. That by writing I'm practicing a skill that adds to the productive work I do in my current and future jobs.

Whatever I'm going to stop worrying about the minutiae of this.

I hope you to find the quiet and profound enjoyments that don't lean so much into the demands of capitalism and productivity.

Have You Been Writing Lately?

I've been asked this question by friends, coworkers, and my boss.

Writing was something I did, something I loved. People have read my writing and felt something - they felt they were seen, they felt they saw me, they felt that they gained clarity, that I put language to an emotion or experience they've had and couldn't articulate.

My writing has an impact on real people and I loved that I was able to give that.

But lately, writing has felt so self-indulgent.

I felt like I was spending too much time looking inward, pitying myself. This spurs guilt and embarrassment and I backspace everything and close the window.

I feel guilty for not doing enough, for not being involved in grassroots activism, for not being better with my money so I am able to donate more of it. I feel guilty for not showing up, for not joining in. I feel guilty for being absorbed in my pain, in my sadness.

All this guilt and shame is a wall between me and writing.

 I want to forgive myself. I need to forgive myself.

I want to give myself permission to be indulgent on this blog, this quiet space on the world wide web that a private coorporation lets me occupy.

I want to inhale and take up space. Exhale and stay there.