Post-its

I write down the things I’d like to write about and put them on post-its. I stick them on the desk with the thought that I’ll cross them off and throw them away.

Now, they’re everywhere. On the desk. In my journal. In my day planner. At work. I found one in my wallet yesterday.

I think I’d like to sit somewhere for a month and just write. Write out every last idea until there’s nothing left to say. Then start again with a blank slate.

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stressed.

Up until the age of 17, there were two things that my father said to me constantly. They’ve been stuck in my head for the past three weeks now. I can’t help but be grateful to him for putting these thoughts in my head.

I’m not going to lie. I’m stressed. For the first time in a very long time. The best part of all is that I that I’m half in awe of the situation and half-amused. I feel like I’m watching myself be stressed out, and I’m analyzing the whole situation. So, yesterday when I was angry, I spent half the day thinking about why I let myself slip into that state. And today, when I ended up in pain, I thought to myself how my physical state was making up for the fact that I was truly enjoying the students in my classroom.

The first thing my father used to say was: “What did the little train say?” And I know I must have been completely annoyed by this as a teenager, and he’d make me say it. “I think I can, I think I can.”

I think that’s where I get my over-confidence (?) as described by some from. I think that I can do almost anything. Well, I think I can do almost anything that I want to do.

The second thing? He would tease constantly, “Don’t be a weenie.”

I have a deep fear of weakness. I really do. And today, I laughed driving home. Really hard. For the simple reason that halfway through my workday, the extent of what I have to do in the next two weeks registered in my poor, unorganized brain. My back tightened up in a way it hasn’t in at least a year. I feared that driving home from work was going to be a complete, painful catastrophe.

And for some reason, as I got into my car, the words that came into my head were: “Don’t be a weenie.” I laughed so hard that I couldn’t help but getting myself home by sheer will.

I’ve been thinking about that in the past week. I say often that I get through things by sheer will. And I have realized that it comes from these two phrases. Failure was not an option, and it was deeply rooted in a positive state of mind.