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But of course, even in a blog called "Drafts" I have 29 unpublished drafts that I can't bring myself to post.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

Me and Taylor Swift (but mostly me)

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

I've loved Taylor Swift since I was about 13. I remember being so excited to turn 15 so I can sing Fifteen and really feel it.

Her CDs were treasures. Fearless was a present from my brother, Speak Now was a present from a friend, Red was a present from a boyfriend, and buying 1989 felt like coming-of-age experience. I streamed Reputation and Lover (rip cds)

I'm trying to put my thoughts into words but it's actually so hard to talk about my love for Taylor Swift.

But watching Miss Americana showed me that I don't actually love Taylor Swift, the person. I don't... can't know her. I don't even think I like Taylor Swift, the celebrity persona (I don't care for her social media, interviews, or pretty much anything she does outside of her music...). What I love, what keeps me coming back to her music year after year, is how her music makes me feel about myself, my life, my emotions, my past, and my hopes.

My love for her is actually a just a love for... me.

When I was a teenager, I had all these repressed and unrequited emotions and listening to Taylor felt like a release. It was like I was living vicariously through her. She sang out loud all the emotions I told myself I was stupid for feeling. 

When older people would scoff at the pathetic or childish subject matters of her songs, when they roll their eyes and say (another breakup song?!), I hide the fact that I found comfort in those songs.

Taylor Swift mentions in Miss Americana that it felt like her fans grew up with her. I've returned to Taylor Swift album after album. I always return skeptically. Maybe the new version of her is not for me anymore. I've definitely read articles and interviews from people that make me was to dissociate with Taylor.

But then I eventually listen again. And love it again.

Gorgeous sounds exactly like how having on a crush on someone feels

State of Grace sounds like what hope for a new romance feels like

Long Live is the only other song apart from Graduation (Vitamin C) that epitomises that end of an era with a close circle of close-proximity friends

Enchanted reminds me of the stomach churning nervous hope that follows after I've met someone who I have great instant chemistry - will this be a meet cute or a standalone anecdote?

The Best Day makes me miss my parents and siblings

Mean is song that I can't relate to but is just fun to my ears and my brother and I laugh every time we listen to the bridge.

I saw her live during her RED tour and it was an experience I feel so lucky to have had. I went with my then boyfriend and I got to have my cake and eat it as well - he recorded clips on his phone, allowing me to fully immerse myself into the show, while also having blurry but precious concert footage to look back on. 

I felt so old and so brown at the concert. I realised that night that my love for Taylor Swift isn't a part of a web or networks of fans. I wasn't a Swiftie. I'm just a girl, sitting in her room, and listening to Taylor Swift and feeling her feelings.

I didn't want to be in a fanbase, I didn't want to be in a crowd.

I tried to shut the crowd out and enjoy the show like it was just her and I and my boyfriend in the (massive) room. It felt truly magical to slow dance and make out while she was singing Begin Again. 

Being a celebrity looks like a deeply dehumanising experience and I can never tell who is enjoying the ride and who is tolerating it to make art and connect with audiences (maybe it's both??).

I resent/envy their luxuries and I don't understand their struggle.

Was Miss Americana a step towards humanising Taylor? Are we meant to feel closer to her after watching it?

I was surprised to find that apart from the subject matters in her songs, I related to how she used to hold up being good and nice as the pillars of her moral compass and worldview. 

A nice girl smiles and waves and says thank you. A nice girl doesn’t make people feel uncomfortable with her views

She's moved (moving?) past that now. I'm also trying to break that deeply held view that I've built my whole personality on.

And again, something else Taylor Swift did/made is just a tool for me to look at myself more, not her.

Am I narcissistic? Is her art just a fitting mirror for me?

I don't know. I just know who Spotify will tell me is my number one artist for 2020.