Yup, I sold my first thing on Etsy! Then I looked closer and realized it was my mom. Oh well, a sale's a sale. I'm just shocked she was able to summon enough tech savvy to actually check out. I can't even express how much I want this store to work. The most I can say is "REALLY BAD," but that's a little lame, to be honest. I like making jewelry. It's relaxing and creative and gives me a hobby that I can do while watching Doctor Who. What else could a girl want?
Sales, that's freaking what!
Monday, August 22, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
A Second Post! So Proud...
Okay, maybe this will actually be easy to keep up with. Having it stare me in the face from my bookmarks toolbar is pretty helpful, especially when I put it right next to Etsy and accidentally click it 4 times a day. The universe refuses to let me fail!
So I realized that yesterday's post gave you absolutely no inkling of what this blog was about. I thought, "Oh no! My beelions upon beelions* of readers won't know what the hell I'm doing here!" But then I thought about it some more, and I don't want this blog to be about anything in particular. I'm a diverse person, so my blog can be to. So I figure I'll just tell you about me.
I'm a teacher at a girl's boarding school, which is an all around weird experience. This year will be my fourth year there, and I've yet to meet the kids of anyone famous. So dissappointing, especially when the older teachers tell me tales from the 1970s when super famous people would sweep into the school on the weekends and shake their hands and give them air kisses. Now they're all diplomats kids and kids of the super rich but not so famous, which really isn't all that interesting. But it does make for some pretty awesome Christmas presents.
I know what you're thinking. "She must be rich! Why is she toting her Etsy store? She doesn't need more money!" Little known fact...private teachers make crap money. And while my hubby and I are doing ok, we wouldn't be if the school I worked for didn't give us an apartment, and pay for our water, and our heat, and everything else other than internet and TV, and we don't have a TV package. And teachers and their families can eat at the school during the school year, so we don't even really need to buy food all that much. Notice that I said we were doing OK, not great, not good, just ok. So yeah, my job pays crap. Hey, see that fancy Etsy store widget to the right? You should totally click on that and buy something!
"Then leave and stop complaining," you say. Oh no. No way. No way in hell would I ever leave this job. I love it to pieces. I love every second of it. I love that I have freedom in my lesson plans. I love that I don't actually have to type up all of my lesson plans in advance and get them approved. I love that they pay for a graduate class every summer. I love that, when I take the girls to the mall or to the movies, they pay me to go see a movie or go shopping. I love that I don't have to teach to any standardized test (well, except for the AP US History test, but that's different). I love that my girls, for the most part, are frickin' awesome people. I love that I get ridiculous amounts of time off for holidays because they need to factor in the fact that some kids fly home to China. I love that I love my boss. How many of you people can say all of that? The pay is shit, but the job is the shit.
tl;dr - My job rocks, buy some shiny things from the moving box.
*My imagination is super active. And apparently talks in Cute-Overloadese.
So I realized that yesterday's post gave you absolutely no inkling of what this blog was about. I thought, "Oh no! My beelions upon beelions* of readers won't know what the hell I'm doing here!" But then I thought about it some more, and I don't want this blog to be about anything in particular. I'm a diverse person, so my blog can be to. So I figure I'll just tell you about me.
I'm a teacher at a girl's boarding school, which is an all around weird experience. This year will be my fourth year there, and I've yet to meet the kids of anyone famous. So dissappointing, especially when the older teachers tell me tales from the 1970s when super famous people would sweep into the school on the weekends and shake their hands and give them air kisses. Now they're all diplomats kids and kids of the super rich but not so famous, which really isn't all that interesting. But it does make for some pretty awesome Christmas presents.
I know what you're thinking. "She must be rich! Why is she toting her Etsy store? She doesn't need more money!" Little known fact...private teachers make crap money. And while my hubby and I are doing ok, we wouldn't be if the school I worked for didn't give us an apartment, and pay for our water, and our heat, and everything else other than internet and TV, and we don't have a TV package. And teachers and their families can eat at the school during the school year, so we don't even really need to buy food all that much. Notice that I said we were doing OK, not great, not good, just ok. So yeah, my job pays crap. Hey, see that fancy Etsy store widget to the right? You should totally click on that and buy something!
"Then leave and stop complaining," you say. Oh no. No way. No way in hell would I ever leave this job. I love it to pieces. I love every second of it. I love that I have freedom in my lesson plans. I love that I don't actually have to type up all of my lesson plans in advance and get them approved. I love that they pay for a graduate class every summer. I love that, when I take the girls to the mall or to the movies, they pay me to go see a movie or go shopping. I love that I don't have to teach to any standardized test (well, except for the AP US History test, but that's different). I love that my girls, for the most part, are frickin' awesome people. I love that I get ridiculous amounts of time off for holidays because they need to factor in the fact that some kids fly home to China. I love that I love my boss. How many of you people can say all of that? The pay is shit, but the job is the shit.
tl;dr - My job rocks, buy some shiny things from the moving box.
*My imagination is super active. And apparently talks in Cute-Overloadese.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
The first post
So...a blog. You know, I was the kind of kid that looooved journals and diaries. I wanted every cute, fuzzy, colorful, Lisa Frankish diary that I came across. I'd buy it with my own money, lovingly pet it on the way home, and then race inside to get a pencil. I would then proceed to write the most epicest (in my child mind) of all journal entries, complete with stories and drawings and every color of colored pencil under the sun, and it would always include something like, "Imma write in you forever and ever and ever and I'll never miss a day!" And then I'd happily open the drawer in my bedside table to store it (just in case I had a WILD thought in the middle of the night that I had to record for posterity), and there it would be. My last journal. "Oh yeah!" I would think. "I bought you forever ago! I wondered where you went, silly journal." Except I didn't wonder where it went. It went in that drawer, and it exited my mind. I would inevitably open said forgotten journal and stare in horror at the last date I wrote in it. "Five months?" I would squeak with disbelief. "My goodness! Well, I won't do this with my NEW journal. Nope, I'll write in it every day!" And that lasted for, oh, 4 days. Tops. It's not like I had to be scared of taking it out for fear that a sibling might steal it. I'm an only child. I would always forget about my pretty journals. Every. Damn. Time.
And you know, I still do the exact same thing. I looooooove leather journals, with their awesome smell and...journalness. Thankfully I now have some semblance of self control, so I don't spend my money on every leather journal that crosses my path, because I still forget about them. I just found a small leather one in my bedroom and the last entry was, "You're going to be my wedding journal, because I'm getting married! Yay!" Except I got married last October. And Sam proposed two Christmases before that. So that's two and a half years that I forgot about that one. A personal record! Woo! I just went on my honeymoon, and the first thing I told my parents when we got back was, "I kept a journal EVERY DAY," and you're damn right I was proud about it.
So now I have this online version of the thing I love, but chronically forget about. So if I disappear for a while, just come back in 4 months. I'll probably find you again.
And you know, I still do the exact same thing. I looooooove leather journals, with their awesome smell and...journalness. Thankfully I now have some semblance of self control, so I don't spend my money on every leather journal that crosses my path, because I still forget about them. I just found a small leather one in my bedroom and the last entry was, "You're going to be my wedding journal, because I'm getting married! Yay!" Except I got married last October. And Sam proposed two Christmases before that. So that's two and a half years that I forgot about that one. A personal record! Woo! I just went on my honeymoon, and the first thing I told my parents when we got back was, "I kept a journal EVERY DAY," and you're damn right I was proud about it.
So now I have this online version of the thing I love, but chronically forget about. So if I disappear for a while, just come back in 4 months. I'll probably find you again.
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