Day 23: Did You Try Something Hard?

Last night, I posted a teaser about my blog on Facebook which inspired a bit of buzz. I received many positive responses from family and friends who, apparently, feel eager to read it (Thanks, Mom!). 

But setting up the blog has taken significant time recently, like roughly 12 hours this weekend, as I figure out how various quirky things about blogging work. 

For example, why does the button on my page lead to a page selling cookbooks? Why do all my post’s URLs say _Roasted_Cauliflower_Dip? And should I give Squarespace permission to access my google drive?

(Answers: Because the demo page remains linked — delete it. Because I cloned a post about, you guessed it, Roasted Cauliflower Dip and now must recreate each one. And, sure, unless I plan to pay for an e-mail collection service, which I don’t). 

So all this, for a self-professed luddite like myself, provides an extremely steep learning curve with strenuous climbing. Note: Squarespace seems significantly user-friendlier than Bluehost, a previous attempt at which led me to give up becoming a blogger! 

The process has exhausted me. Squeezing an 12 extra hours out of any given weekend proves difficult, no matter how much dust accumulates around the house (it’s a lot), how many times my children watch Ron’s Gone Wrong in a single weekend (um, I believe that’s 4.5), or how many hand towels decay in the sink (that particular behavior has escalated to entire bath towels left in the tub, covered with paint). 

Though staying up late and waking up early has allowed me to manage this, I sincerely hope this blog just requires extra start-up energy. Hopefully, just as plane takes extra force to gain altitude and clear the atmosphere, my writing and posting will get quicker and easier. 

But I harbor some serious doubts. In fact, if I had not already made it Facebook official, I might be tempted to scrap this challenge entirely. 

When I told one of my favorite colleagues about the challenge and its cash prize (not for me, for the Donald), she said, “You’re going to be writing your ass off all year!”

I agree. 

However, telling people also raises other concerns: How will they react? Will their opinions of me change (when they find out I watch the Bachelorette or occasionally drop an F-bomb?)

What will my family, neighbors or coworkers think when they inevitably see themselves mentioned? Will I inadvertently offend someone or write something that jeopardizes my job or professional standing.

Anxiety about this urges me to reread all of my as-yet-unpublished posts from the perspective of that colleague, that cousin, my boss.

But, I politely decline to reread or censor my writing. 

I painstakingly created this space with its block lettering and pallets of pink. Everything written here represents my real, authentic, opinionated self — and you, they or anyone else can like it or not. 

Ultimately, this fun, well-conceived project will push me into uncomfortable territory and help me become what I most want to be. 

Every day as we descend the stairs out of my school building, I chant a particular call and response with my students.  

I don’t ask, “Did you understand everything the first time?” Nor, “Did you get the answers right?” 

I want my students to know that challenge makes the learning happen. So this, for the next 342 days, constitutes my challenge.  

“Did you try something hard today?” I call. 

“Yes!” They respond. 

“And when are we doing to do it again?”

"Tomorrow!”