HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Just a quick blog shout out to Sleeping Booty and Cinderslut who made the official plunge into “late 20’s” life by turning 26 today! We couldn’t be prouder. I will be following you very soon. Merskank however, will never age. WE LOVE YOU TWO!!!!

All Natural

As you know, my husband and I recently went on a two week vacation. Since we were camping the whole time, I made the decision to not bring any makeup along. Now, it’s not that I typically wear a ton of makeup but I definitely wear some form of makeup almost every day, so not wearing any for 2 weeks straight was kind of a big deal.

I am not a person who has been blessed with perfect skin. I’ve dealt with acne my whole life and even though it’s calmed down over the last few years, it’s still around enough to annoy me. I’m used to employing multiple makeup tricks to cover it up. But on this trip I had none. Now I was only seeing my husband and sleeping booty, so I knew it shouldnt be a big deal, but it still felt a little strange. I’m confident in my own skin most of the time, but when you take away your backup, something changes.

I guess you could say I felt naked(which I was in some sense of the word). The first week I wasn’t a huge fan of the way I felt. I knew I looked fine, but I didn’t feel beautiful. I still grumbled when I saw blemishes and thought to myself at least I won’t see any of these people again. But then, halfway through the trip my entire perspective changed, and it was all because of one picture.

We were in Bryce Canyon. If you’ve never been there, put it on your list right now. One of the coolest aspects of the canyon is the different colors of the rocks. We were passing a wall that was brilliantly red, and we decided it was the perfect backdrop for portraits of ourselves. The contrast with our skin was  perfect. My husband pointed the camera at me and I just stared back, not even trying hard to smile. It was so simple but the result really suprised me. I looked at the photograph and I thought nothing else had ever been so purely me. There was no mask, no acting or reaching in my expression. I saw myself with no filter. And I thought, this is beautiful. I wasn’t focused on the imperfections, but the whole picture.

After that I was blissfully happy in my own skin. And when we finally got home from vacation, I was actually annoyed by the sight of all my makeup. I looked at it while getting ready for work and thought how pointless the effort of putting it on would be. I’ve actually only used makeup a couple times since coming home. My mindset has totally changed. I see my blemishes and just shrug them off. I don’t think makeup is bad or anything, and it can be fun to play with when you have a lot of time on your hands. But I suddenly don’t feel that I have a strong need for it anymore, and that makes me happy.

When Siblings Become Parents

Get ready for a post about that life milestone that I’m sure is crowding everyone’s newsfeeds more and more these days, parenthood.

“Hee hee! I’m here to change absolutely everything!”

I married into a family where kids were already the main event; my husband’s two siblings had two kids a piece when we got married, and now they each have three, and one even has a fourth on the way. While it is super fun to be an auntie, and I love those kids to death, over the years I’ve felt a bit sad that I never got to know my brothers and sisters-in-law before they had kids. Of course, my husband did, but so much has changed since the days when he and his siblings could all hang out—it’s just a distant memory.

Things change when people get married and become part of a couple, sure. But they don’t change nearly as much as when those same people become parents. At least, in our family, having kids pretty much meant saying goodbye to a real, deep relationship with our siblings.

Now, every family event is oriented around the needs of the children. Their nap-times, bed-times, likes, dislikes, tantrums, and whims pretty much dictate what we can and can’t do as a family. When we do all get together, they take center stage (of course, since we’re all pretty enamored with their adorable-ness) and definitely monopolize the attentions of the grandparents. Even when we all stay at my in-laws house for days on end, such as during Christmas or our annual summer family week, there are usually just one or two hours in the evening when we can talk and interact as adults. And even that can be interrupted by a crying baby, or the fact that everyone is just plain exhausted.

My sister-in-law is a great example of someone who tries hard to give us her attention when we do spend time together—she’ll ask a great question about how work is going or what we’ve been up to, but then, inevitably, before we can answer in any depth, one of her kids has distracted her and the moment is lost. Then there’s my husband’s brother. I know my husband would love to have a closer relationship with his older brother, but they simply never get to talk. Again, when they do get together, they might be able to talk about video games or work for a few minutes, but it’s always interrupted before they can get deep. Furthermore, my brother-in-law is usually so exhausted from working full time and raising three kids that he zones out on his phone more often than he initiates conversations with his only little brother.

All of this is definitely exacerbated by the fact that we live so far away from everyone. Living abroad makes us miss our family more and be even more disappointed when the limited time we do get with them is cut short or kept at a superficial level. Take Skype calls, for example. With both sets of parents, it works great: we call them at least once or twice a week and usually are able to talk for about an hour. As a result, our parents know much, much more about our lives than any of our siblings do. But when my sister-in-law calls on Skype, it is literally a five-minute experience, max. Her three kids make faces at us or tell us what they want to be for Halloween (which is great, don’t get me wrong) but if their mom tries to weigh in or ask us anything about our lives, the kids soon ruin it by making noises, getting into fights with each other, crying, or just wandering off so she has to follow them. Regardless, we’re not able to have any kind of real conversation. The other set of siblings just never even bother to call us at all.

I don’t want to whine and make things all about me, but after spending the better part of three years in this family, I would have thought I’d have gotten to know my siblings-in-law better than this. I just don’t feel like they really know me, because we never get to interact. One day, their kids will be older, and maybe then things will be easier? But then the day will come that I’ll have kids of my own, and I’ll probably be just as frazzled and preoccupied.

Well, at least then we’ll have something in common.

Condition of the Month: October Distractions

We’ve all been a little (try a lot) distracted this month, so rather than scrap our monthly condition post we’ve just decided to post it now (very, very late) and talk about the things that distract us.

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Man oh man am I busy. That’s a fact. But who is to say which parts of my life are the distractions and which are the real things that I should be focused on? Sure finding a job and applying for health insurance are things I need to do, but isn’t spending time with my mother watching a television show we both love just as important? Since I’m about to move out my parents’ house for good I have to buy a new bed for my new place and stock up on groceries, but I also have photos from my spring trip to Paris and Spain and Ireland that my friends have been not so patiently waiting to see. Which is the distraction? Should I work to submit my photobook vouchers that expire at the end of the month or to finish the half written blog posts that never seem done? Should I spend my time working out or catching up on the news, cleaning the bathroom or trying to get a letter of recommendation? All I really want to do is to organize my room by sewing up another t-shirt quilt and scrapbooking all my high school boxes, but with so many other things with actual deadlines I just never feel ahead. And as if these distractions aren’t enough, throw other people into the mix and you’ve got one super unfocused person. You already know I spent an unreasonable portion of my summer preparing for my friend’s wedding, and you won’t believe how much time I’ve spent helping my brother with school and housing and everything else in his life. I write letters to friends, head out on hikes to catch up and go on trips just because I think they’ll appreciate it. My friend is going through a bad breakup and I’m even part of a secret Facebook group called Support Our Friend where we come up with ways we can help her. I could easily spend my whole life distracted by other people. But as distracting as friendships are, they’re worth it and as never ending as my projects are, they matter to me. Sure, I feel constantly distracted, like I should always be somewhere else doing something else, but I also always feel accomplished, because I’m constantly working to check things off my list. If I go on Facebook it’s to strengthen a friendship, if I am washing the dishes I’m making my family proud, if I make a scrapbook I’m de-cluttering my life. It’s true, all these things distract me from figuring out a career and a future, but all the things I choose to do make me who I am. And it’s exciting to realize that no matter what I do, nothing can distract me from that.

-Sleeping Booty

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Unlike any school I’ve ever attended, my current school had a two-week break at the beginning of October, so I got to go visit Merskank in the U.K. and relax for a while, which was really nice after a whirlwind first month of work. But for the last week it’s been back to school and back to the grindstone. I can tell you that I have a huge to-do list, with most of the items being school related. This is just part of life as a teacher—the work never ends. Luckily, I like doing what I do, so it doesn’t stress me out to have two novel units just getting off the ground and another one (on a book I haven’t actually gotten around to reading) imminently approaching, plus a social studies course, applying for a lead teacher position, an afterschool club, and other assorted responsibilities. Well, it doesn’t stress me out too much. Other than work, there isn’t too much to distract me, honestly. My husband and I are both in a busy season professionally, so we pretty much come home, collapse, cuddle for a few minutes, and then engage in what I like to call garden therapy. We walk around the backyard, look at the veggie plants just starting to sprout up (and our banana tree, which is just starting to bear fruit!) and talk about our days. And then…we have dinner and are in bed by 9 p.m., ready to do it all the next day. It’s busy, but it sure beats being unemployed!

-Cinderslut

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Distractions. Right now I feel like I’m letting life itself be a distraction. Lately I’ve been feeling that its time for me to make some job/career changes, but I hate the thought of applying to jobs and so I let my normal “busy life” be an excuse/distraction to keep me from actually putting effort towards making positive changes in my life. I will always be busy, so it’s not really a good excuse, but if I have to focus on work for 40 hours a week, and my home/social life for the rest of the time, than I can distract myself from the part of me that wants more. I know that it will get harder to keep that part of me silent, but at the same time, my fear of change and risk can be pretty loud as well.  It’s definitely not a good long term solution, but it’s just so easy to do. And don’t all of us to some extent let the comfort of our everyday lives distract us from pursuing our goals and dreams? It is easier to consume yourself in the small dramas of everyday life than to ask yourself what you really want. Because if you ask yourself what you really want, one of two things will happen. Either you will realize that you have no idea what you really want (which is frustrating), or you will recognize what you really want but realize that getting there will be huge challenge and you don’t know if you have the guts to go through with it( which is terrifying). So when we come to that point, what do we do? We pretend like we never had the thought in the first place and go back to distracting ourselves.  But a life of distraction is not a very full life, and secretly we all know it.  The question is—what are we going to do about it? What will I do about it? At this point, I’m really not sure.

-Snow Whore

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  Merskank has been the busiest of all of us lately what with TEACHING at Oxford, writing her thesis, and being a supportive friend, daughter, and girlfriend. Her answer to this question is yet to come.

I Come From a Land of Hoarders

This summer I took a 3 week trip to the U.S., much of which was spent staying with my family or my husband’s family. It was fun. It was a memorable trip. It was just swell.

But…

I think I’m finding it increasingly difficult to stay with family members for extended periods of time. On the one hand, I absolutely love it. You really can’t beat free lodging and free food—it makes traveling much easier. And I love both of our families, and I hate that most of the year we can only see each other via Skype.

But…

If I had to spend one more day in my in-laws house, I think I would have burst. It’s little things that I hardly notice at first, but that start to get on my nerves as the days and weeks pass. Things like that fact that their house stinks. Like, it noticeably smells. This has worsened in the past few months, and they’ve been trying to identify the source, but I think it’s just the inevitable decay of an old house that hasn’t been kept up well over the years. A house that happens to get partially flooded every year or two. So yeah, it smells musty and dank and occasionally you get a whiff of something worse, like burnt popcorn meets poopy diaper. Mmmmm…

Okay, it’s not this bad. Yet.

Now, the smell issue is not my in-laws’ fault, per se. But there are other lifestyle choices I find pretty off-putting, such as their propensity for hoarding. Here, sit back and relax while you enjoy a mental tour of their home: You walk in the door and inhale the stinky stank. You are in a mudroom mostly filled with shelves, all full of canned food or cleaning supplies. To your left is a garage, pretty much full to the brim with who-the-hell-knows-because-you-can’t-really-get-in-the-door. Probably tools and stuff. You walk in further and take a right, passing through the dining room. Aside from the expected dining room table, you notice a countertop, a desk, and a card table. On none of these is there any space to set your purse. This trend continues as you go through the rest of the house. Closets full to bursting, horizontal surfaces inevitably occupied with crap, and a desk in the office that is home to a 2+ foot mountain of papers. It’s this room, the office, which threatens to send me over the edge. Not a foot from this disgraceful paper mountain is a paper shredder absolutely begging for some action. Sometimes I actually fantasize about shredding all those papers, or just setting fire to the whole stack.

It’s actually kind of odd that I care so much, because my own parents aren’t much better. I grew up in a house that was too-often cluttered, with a garage that was never empty enough to hold a car. I’m also not all that organized myself. My room in high school and college was always a disaster zone, and I never color-code or actually file anything in filing cabinets. So, who am I to judge? Furthermore, in the case of both my parents’ and my in-laws’ messy houses, I am part of the problem. My husband and I have at least a closet and a half worth of childhood mementos, wedding gifts, clothing, and other assorted stuff at each house! And I appreciate that our family is willing to help us out with storage while we live abroad. But part of me also wouldn’t mind too much if they told us we had to go through it, get it out of their house, and start paying for a storage unit. Because that would mean they (and we) would be minimizing.

I like to hold on to things for sentimental reasons as much as the next girl, but more and more I’ve become enamored with the idea of minimalizing. While we were home this summer I went through two boxes at my parents’ house and a big bin full of shoes at my husband’s parents’ house. Not a huge accomplishment, but it felt so good to know a bag of stuff was on its way to Goodwill and there would be a little less of my clutter in this world. In my own house, we have recently run out of hangers for our clothes. One option would be to buy more hangers, but instead I just have the overwhelming urge to purge, to throw away or give away the clothes my husband and I rarely wear anymore.

While we were in the process of packing up for our flight back, my mother-in-law discovered that I had thrown away a cheap eye-mask provided by one of the airlines on our previous flights. She went into the kitchen and dug it out of the trash, to tuck away who-knows-where in her cluttery, nutty house.

I kind of wanted to punch her. Or just shout, “I already have six of those things in a drawer at home!” Which I do, sadly.

Maybe I am a bit too wasteful, too cavalier about throwing things away (especially when they aren’t actually mine) but I think I’ve become this way because I really, really don’t want to hoard things as much as my parents and in-laws do. I never want to own a storage unit. I want my home to have open spaces and horizontal surfaces that you can actually see once and a while. I don’t want my kids to have more toys than they can play with. I just want…simplicity. A house and a life that functions well. And I can’t have that if I’m weighed down by so. much. stuff.

A Milestone In My Life: Reconnecting With Him Ten Years Later

So there was this guy.

I know, I know, for as single as I am (hint: very) I write about boys a disproportional amount. How many crushes and almosts can a girl really talk about before her friends start to worry? But, please, bear with me (at least) one more time because this one means a lot to me. It even has a happy ending! I promise.

I’ve told you already about the river trips my family goes on every summer and what a magical thing they can be, throwing people together who otherwise wouldn’t have had the chance to really connect and helping to put our distracted lives into a focused perspective. We float and laugh, cry and hike, hug and play. These camping trips have shaped me into the person I am today, feeding me lesson after lesion that I’ve taken back to the real world and built my life around. It makes sense that this story begins with one.

On the river trip the summer before my senior year of high school I met this guy. To talk about who I was then is difficult; in many ways that 17 year old seems so different than who I am now. But what I internalized on that week long adventure has become a fixed point in my life that I can credit with so much of who I am today. It’s become a milestone for me, a moment in time that completely shifted who I thought I could be and how I’d go about getting there.

I was just about to start my senior year of high school, and while I never lacked for friends or things to do, I lacked what all 17 year olds lack, self-confidence and direction. When I met him it felt like he, Kelsey, was exactly what I never knew I was missing. Nearly 30, he had more confidence and charisma than anyone I’d ever met. His energy was endless and enthusiasm unwavering; he said what he felt and knew who he was.

He was my friend’s cousin, tagging along on our adventure for no reason other than because he’d been invited.  In a way I was just tagging along too, showing up on these trips because my family chose to. He and I became fast friends on the trip, mostly because I like to listen and he liked to talk, but also because we were both at a crossroads in our lives, both trying to figure out which parts of who we were would carry over to who we were going to become. I was a blank canvas, about to apply to colleges and break out on my own, and he was faced with an ultimatum, marry his girlfriend or walk away.

Over the course of the week we became what I can only remember as inseparable, though it’s been almost ten years so it’s likely at least some things have been romanticized. Whenever I found myself alone he’d arrive soon after, asking me my thoughts or showing me something new. In group conversations he’d look to see if I was laughing, or move closer to me so we could better connect. When we played horseshoes I was on his team, when we played badminton I was his biggest threat. When we played Frisbee he always threw to me and when we played touch football he picked me up and spun me around instead of blocking. We were physical and verbal, emotional and crass, young and unafraid.

He saw me, took the time to ask what I thought about things, learn who I was, explore who I wanted to become. We were always the last to bed, staying up long after most people had left the campfire, talking of life or sports or whatever else we could think of. I felt like his go to person. And for that week I was.

On the last night we stayed up talking about life and love and he said some classic line like, I bet those high school boys are lining up for you. I insecurely brushed it off, shaking my head and laughing like that was absurd. I’ll never forget how he looked at me silently for a second and then exploded, standing up and yelling to the star-filled sky that what I’d just done was total bullshit, that it’s a travesty that girls like me ever feel like they aren’t amazing. He kept talking and pacing as he explained that confidence is the most attractive and important thing anyone can have and that being secure and strong and sure of yourself is the only thing that matters. We’re only wasting time worrying whether or not we’re beautiful enough or interesting, he said, just believe you are those things and it becomes true.

After a second he sat down next to me and made sure I looked him in the eyes when he said, you’re beautiful, never question that.

He made me promise to never forget it and while in the years since I have, of course, questioned that, I can always come back to that moment when he told me that beauty is in your actions.

When I came back to my life without him I didn’t know how to explain what had happened. How do you tell your high school friends that because a guy saw you, for the first time you saw yourself?

As I tried to tell them the story fell flat, my friends demanding the rest of the story. Is that all that happened? Are you sure you’re not leaving anything out? You didn’t kiss him!? How old was he? You’re lying! My vulnerable ego wanted, needed them to understand how I’d changed, so I hastily embellished a few details, hoping that saying we’d kissed would help them connect with what had happened.

It was immature and unnecessary and I eventually told my friends the truth of it, but in the years since I’ve thought of that week often, reminding myself of the significance of his words and the lessons I learned in trying to explain them afterward.

This weekend on a trip to Chicago I saw him again. I was nervous, of course, not wanting the man who has become a fixed point in my life to let me down, or worse, to let him down myself. I was about to see how much can change in ten years and find out whether my memory had led me astray. What if I’d imagined our connection, or if he’d forgotten me? What if he’d lost himself over the years, or what if hadn’t actually taken what he’d said to heart? With a deep breath I put on a brave face and walked through the door with confidence, shaking his hand along with all the other people I’d met here and there across my lifetime.

My fake confidence worked and I found myself talking freely and laughing along with the group. I took care to win over his kids and showed interest in what he said, doing my best to figure out if any of what we’d had would resurface.

It wasn’t long before it felt like he and I were alone.

He showed me things around his yard and met my eyes as he placed a fuzzy caterpillar on my hand. He moved closer to me as he scrolled through photos of cool insects on his phone and teased me as we played keep away with a football. All those feelings from before were right where we’d left them, just waiting to resurface.

When I asked him about the chestnut tree that my dad had given him after our river trip he led me through a gate and away from the others. Just the two of us walked around the other side of the house and talked like no time had passed. He joked, I provoked, and we saw each other again. I couldn’t stop smiling, not because I thought anything would happen or even should happen, but it just felt nice to be alone with him. Alone with an awesome man who in so many ways changed my life and was still that same person I had cherished.

He has no idea how much he shaped me with just one week, but it was nice to feel like I’d grown up to represent him well. He even offered up some advice like he did before, telling me that the one thing about kids is that once you have them, your time is no longer your own. Have a plan by 30, he said, because after that there is no time to change things up or figure anything out.

When it was time for us to leave he sought me out for a hug, holding me tightly so I knew we’d done right by each other. It felt good to be in his arms, in the way that everything I’d ever felt with him was valid and reciprocated. I knew he was proud of me, and he knew I was proud of him.

And better yet, as I walked out the door of his house, I realized I was proud of myself.

Park Love

I’m writing this from my phone as I sit in the lobby of a hotel I’m not staying at, because it’s the only place near Bryce canyon that has a tv showing Monday night football. And I am blissfully happy. Getting away is just what I needed.

I have seen more incredible beauty in the last week than words or pictures would ever be able to accurately describe. And I also got to spend some quality time with Sleeping booty. All I have to say is that if you have never spent time in any national parks, you need to now. My husband and I are so in love that we started talking about becoming park rangers and spending our whole lives surrounded by incredible nature. When you hike down into a canyon, climb out on a ledge and just gaze out letting the silence envelop you and the wind whip around you, it is utter perfection. And you have to hike to make it worth it because it’s only when you get away a little bit that you can avoid the giant throngs of tourists and really appreciate the nature fully.

I feel like I can’t fully express my feelings in words. You just have to experience it yourself. I don’t really know how I’m going to be able to go back to real life after this. But I’ve still got another week and I’m going to enjoy it.

Over Half My Friends are Significant Others

Well, the wedding is over. Deep breath.

I easily spent half of my summer working on crafts and support from my friend’s wedding and now that it’s done I feel more than exhaustion, I feel relief. My time is my own again! And while I still have a ton of her photos to edit and a ridiculous amount of my own things to in the next few weeks, I definitely can relax a bit now knowing I didn’t let her down. My maid of honor speech went well thanks to my shamelessly using the quilt I made them as a prop and the paper flower decorations we made were an epic hit. My parents and my brother and I were the first people out on the dance floor when they asked for people to join them and very few people got lost with all the signs and balloons we put up on the way to the venue. The breakfast food was perfection and the spice cake with chai frosting was amazing and the drizzly day was the perfect backdrop for their fall mountain wedding. The pictures are fantastic.

But as smoothly as everything went that isn’t to say that we weren’t stressed. For the rehearsal, three members of the bridal party either didn’t show or came very late and the florists got so lost they didn’t arrive until we were all about to leave. With ten minutes before the wedding I attached some mesh to a headband to make a veil, did my hair and set up the video camera for my brother to film. Things were nuts at points, but I honestly don’t think it could have gone any better.

As I sit here now I can’t help but think of how many of my friends are now the plural, We. Even not counting the weddings, many of my friends have recently moved in with their significant others and as I update my address book it’s more than halfway full of serious relationships.

It makes sense, I turn 26 in a few weeks, my friends should be settling down. There is no friendship that can compare to the one that is there for you at any time and above all others. But at the same time my good friend who has been dating her boyfriend for 6 years just got broken up with out of the blue. She actually thought he was going to propose and instead can’t talk to him anymore. So brutal.

We’re still young so I’m not worried about my unattached half of friends, but I think we’ve officially reached the age where being single or unseriously attached is the minority. I think it’s a good thing, and I didn’t even cry once at my friend’s wedding yesterday, but even as I saw how happy she was dancing with her now husband, I knew that for now I’m happy with being a great friend and not a significant other.

Where Do I Go From Here?

I know everyone is probably sick of hearing me post about work. But unfortunately, it continues to be the eternal thorn in my side. For the longest time, work was stressful because we were so understaffed and I was doing multiple positions by myself. Now its stressful because our new manager refuses to learn anything about how we actually operate, while the upper management has suddenly decided to operate via a chain of screaming. You can imagine how pleasant that is.
Things have gotten so ridiculous lately that every time I go into work it feels like a poison environment where the negativity is pushing down oppressively til I feel like I can’t breathe. Everything is such a mess and I find myself just fighting to keep some semblance of order and positive energy, not even for myself but for my team, so that they don’t feel completely hopeless themselves. But I’ve got to tell you, its hard to keep up sometimes when I feel so burdened myself. I’ve had multiple people on my team tell me recently that if I wasn’t here, they would leave. So I want to be here to keep protecting them, but at the same time I don’t know how much longer I can keep any of this up.
And so I find myself wondering: Where do I go from here? Should I earnestly start looking for another job? Should I stay knowing that I’m providing something valuable to my team, even though its hard on me? And these questions are complicated by the fact that I’m still the main breadwinner for my family right now. I can’t quit my job unless I have another one that pays at least as much, if not more than I’m making now. But that seems like a difficult task, knowing that at my current job I had to start at the bottom and work my way up. But I can’t afford to work my way up again. I guess I have more management experience now, but I don’t necessarily feel like I want another position that is going to be similar to what I’m doing now. Plus, I absolutely loathe job searching. I hate making resumes, I really hate cover letters, and I really really hate how obnoxiously long and repetitive the entire process is. And since I’m already miserable I don’t relish the thought of making myself more miserable in my free time by filling out job applications.
The only bright spot is that on Sunday I am taking a much deserved vacation. I have 2 weeks off and I am road tripping with the Hubby down to visit Sleeping Booty and do some camping. I cannot wait to be free from all the negativity. I need this so much. Maybe the time away will give me some clarity. I’ll just have to wait and see.

Another Post on Teaching

So, as you have all heard, Cinderslut has become a teacher. She’s passed all of her classes, done her student teaching, and landed herself a new teaching job this fall. Many congrats to her! However, this post is about me. It turns out that two of the naughty princesses will be teachers this year. My life got turned upside down about a month ago when—out of the blue—a professor I know emailed and offered me a teaching job. Now, in America being a Teaching Assistant is an integral part of most PhD programs. However, in the UK teaching experience can be hard to come by and teaching an entire course is definitely not a given. So basically: I had to take the job. Although I am both flattered and excited, I have to admit: the prospect of teaching this class is pretty scary to me. As I did my undergraduate in the US, I am not super familiar with the systems employed for undergraduates at my university. Almost everything is different than what I am used to: classes, lectures, and tutorials are all separate things, and students aren’t given exams and their papers don’t have scores—instead their entire grade is calculated after two weeks of exams that happen at the end of their final year. My undergraduate experience was nothing like that! The other scary thing is that practically no assistance has been given me in crafting this class. There is no established structure or routine; instead, all I keep hearing is ‘everyone does things differently. Figure out what you like!’   Now on some fronts, this is empowering. I can teach however I like; I can structure the class to emphasize what I think is important; I even get to decided when and how often we meet. Empowering for sure, but also… terrifying. Especially as a first time teacher, I wouldn’t mind having more structure given me. I am worried about making the wrong choices, worried my class will be less good than those given by other teachers who have had a few years to iron out wrinkles. I feel a bit like I have been tossed into the water—it’s sink or swim. Hopefully I will be swimming like a dolphin sometime soon (or at least flopping around like a jellyfish).