Dear Kim

It’s November 30.  We have toughed it out through thirty days of blogging.  Together, but not together.  Writing separately our little letters to various real and imaginary recipients.  Often indulging separately in a pasttime that binds us together: our mutual Statler and Waldorf-esque disdain for stupidity.

As usual, I wrote long, wordy and I’m sure quite dull posts about various things, profound and mundane (more of the latter, no doubt).  You wrote witty, interesting and often sensitive letters about things profound and mundane.  Both, I think, represented fundamentals of our personality: you are sensitive, witty and interesting, and I’m dull and long-winded.

Now we’re at the end of the month.  We discussed a few days ago the idea of writing the final letter to each other, and then I said today that I was not going to do that.  I said I didn’t know what to say.  You said just to say how awesome you are.

Now I know that you were kidding, tongue planted firmly in cheek as the saying goes, but, well, you know, that is actually a pretty easy thing to write about.  How awesome you are.  I’m not going to write a poem, insert links or youtube videos, or pictures of silly things.  I thought, in characteristic fashion, I’d ramble on…

You are pretty awesome but your ironic suggestion that I write something awesome about you is indicative of how often, it seems, you don’t believe it.  It is difficult, I know, to see and believe the impression of you that those around you hold, so I thought I’d just make some observations.

But first, the woman of the hour:

You are surrounded by people who love you, and in a very uncommon way.  Because you are so sensitive and caring of others, you bring a genuine interest to many of the people with whom you come in contact.  Oh sure, you can express tremendous frustration at distracted students or ignorant adults, and I’m sure want to run screaming from the many people that drive you nuts.  But at the same time, the ones with whom your life is entwined recognize your value and importance to them, and how much value and love you bring into their lives.

Examples, I tell my students, always give some examples.  Teaching.  You have a tremendous aptitude for cutting through the crap and reaching students in a way that they understand.  Oh, sure, not every dipshit in your class is going to follow your lead, but you have also told me of students who have come around to your side of things because you have treated them with respect and showed them that you’re not just another ignorant adult who thinks they’re dumb.  I know it’s not a great example, but consider your brief but important stint at the private-tutoring-organization-whose-name-shall-remain-unstated.  You quickly became the trouble shooter: you would take on the more difficult students, the more challenging ones, and those with significant interpersonal challenges.  And you often reached them.  You knew both instinctively and intellectually how to connect with people, and you do it with sensitivity and intelligence.  And it works. Awesome.

Then there’s the other side of who you are: the creative genius.  You may think that this is an exaggeration (and really, one person’s genius is another’s Asbergers) but look at what you do.  Your crafty hand is in every pie.  You pick up and run with a host of creative projects: baking, cooking, sewing, cutting-and-pasting (cards, scrapbooks, etc), knitting, felting, and you’re ready to go into spinning (save your nickels for that spinning wheel, baby, and maybe we can find room for you to spin).  I may have some issues with your obsessive pursuit of heirloom tomato varieties and the irony of it all (for those unclear on this: KEL don’t like tomatoes!!), but I never denied your dedication to the idea of nurturing-  what was it – twenty different varieties of tomato?  Almost all of which, sadly, did not make it through the summer.

I am in awe of your abilities, be it how you can reach those you teach, create beautiful items, or sit for hours reading books.  You can sit and turn a certain hyperactive two year old into a mercifully quiet and attentive listener as you read a book or make up a story.

On top of that, your ability to sleep almost anywhere is enviable.

I said I am in awe.  What does that mean?  I guess it means you’re awesome.

Now, there are issues.  The clutter, yes, we’ve discussed that.  The bazillion different handbags, okay, you like the variety.  The flitting from one project to another, half-finished quilts, single knitted socks, bags and boxes of yarn, the ever-emerging ideas of new things you could do or make… well, it’s just an aspect of your multifaceted interest.  (After all, it could, some day, make you Thorndale Fair Queen).

But then there’s the at-times crippling lack of self confidence.  That’s something we need to work on.  Hard as it may be for you to believe, you have a support network, a legion of fans, who all know you’re awesome.   They don’t think you’re a failure, or judge you for little things that you think make you useless or inadequate.  They’d be floored to read that you feel that way… but then again maybe not.  Because with your sort of capability can come tremendous humility.  That is good, humility is good, but at times you need to take a breath and repeat it: “so many people can’t be wrong!”   You have the respect, admiration and dedication of so many people, it’s almost unbelievable.  So I’m not really surprised that you don’t believe it yourself.

But you should.  Believe it.  You’re awesome.

And I love you.

Happy November 30, baby.  NaBloPoMo is OVER!

Your friend,

Dan