“…despite having done well at your job, you feel like you’re a fraud and it’s only a matter of time before everyone finds out that you’re just an ‘impostor’ and the house of cards collapses.”
I was captivated by its simplicity, its wide-open page spaces, and its daily “HOT” notations that sung out to me, siren-like: you, absent-minded gal that you are, can prioritize! You can!
That pint-sized brain of mine, tucked inside my skinny little body that wore a hefty neon pink and yellow backpack, heard only one thing: you could have done better.
I wanted to re-frame a breakdown into a breakthrough.
We can’t continue doing things that we don’t like or things we’re not meant to do simply because popular phraseology commands that we strive onward.
If Angie’s name sounds familiar to you, there’s good reason. In early 2010, Angie made the news when she live-tweeted her abortion after an IUD implant failed to protect her from pregnancy. Unlike most women who elect to abort, Angie found herself in the national spotlight because of her decision to go public.
We might seem fortunate, us young folks, because we’re swimming in expensive and glamorous digital gadgetry. But we’re missing something big. Something my parents’ generation enjoyed as a whole.
College: cheap fiberboard shelves, neon clothes hangers, drawstring laundry bags, and extra-long bed sheets. And futons — crisp and clean futons that, by the end of the school year, will reek of days-old beer and mildew. Oh, and stress. And anxiety. And panic.
I should have known that math teachers don’t have a high tolerance for lumberjack humor — or creativity in general. Precision is valued; humor…is not.
The parade of “success” quotes made me anxious — and made me want to sneak into the classroom early in the morning to erase the board and write up some witty quote about failure.