It seems appropriate that I was inspired to write this open letter to myself on the first day of fall.
Let me explain.
Unlike apparently every blogger in the world, I kind of hate fall. And winter. And the beginning of spring. I live for May, June, July, August and early September. Specifically, though, I hate November.
Something triggers inside my brain every November 1, causing me to dislike my job and generally my life. And this is totally ridiculous. Why? Because I have a pretty kickin' job and life.
So, in the hope that public quasi-humiliation/posting this on the Internets will kick me into shape, I present to you my open letter to myself.
To be re-read on November 1:
Every year Matt tells you to write a letter to yourself over the summer reminding you not to hate your life come November 1. Well, summer passed, but this first day of fall is beautiful and you're still in good spirits, so now is as good a time as ever to put this in writing.
Don't hate your job. Sure, it doesn't pay that well, but you knew that all along, and you and Matt are doing fine (for now). And yes, you work long hours because you care about your job and you're good at what you do, but at least you're doing a job that matters. You get to be creative and independent every day, another perk not everyone has in their careers.
Sure, your students probably haven't made too much progress yet, because you've only been teaching them for a couple months. Remember how great those concluding lessons were in June, when everyone suddenly got what you were trying to teach them since September? It will happen again this coming June. Just wait.
You hate the dark. November always seems like the darkest month. Try to live with it. This too shall pass. Remember what it's like in June when it's light until 9 p.m.? Only seven more months until you get to experience that again. In the meantime, keep your energy up. Resist the urge to fall asleep on the sofa at 5:30 p.m., eat popcorn for dinner, and then totally fall asleep for real at 8:30 p.m. This is a pathetic life. You're not even 30 yet!
Instead of falling asleep in that dark darkness, go with Matt to walk the dogs. Cook a new recipe. Read your book club book. Find a place in the house to beautify. Start watching a new TV series on Netflix. Go to the gym! Plan a trip. If all else fails, remember: most people's jobs are not as good as yours. Every Monday means there's only four more days until Friday. And you get something few adults can claim: spell it with me, S-U-M-M-E-R V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N.