Bring On 2022

December 31, 2021June 12, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

I don’t know about you, but I’m not all that happy with how things have been going lately. Even worse, I’m not thrilled with how I’ve been responding. I’d hoped for better from my nation, many of my friends, and (as much as I hate to admit it) myself.

But if you’ll allow me to coopt a phrase from another genre… it’s a new day. At least, it has the potential to be.

For longer than I care to remember, New Years has been my favorite holiday. (I’ve written about it before, enthusiastically if not always successfully.) The past several Decembers, however, it’s been more difficult to maintain that sense of renewal – of possibility. In 2019, I was mostly just glad the damn year was over. In 2020, I’d recently started a new position at a new school and was pretty much failing miserably – or so it felt.

Now, as 2021 sputters to a close, I’m staring forward and not liking much of what I see. Midterm elections will likely prove a continuation of everything it’s become impossible to ignore about American politics. Our collective boredom with the pandemic and general lack of concern with the well-being of those around us continues to prolong unnecessary suffering. We’re not quite up to actual book-burning just yet, but much like we’ve learned to do with our other sins and vices, we’re accomplishing many of the same things less directly.

Also, I’ve gone up a few more sizes and nothing fits well anymore. This may not objectively belong on the same list as Uncle Sam once again openly embracing Jim Crow, but I assure you, it’s a joy-killer.

Nevertheless, it’s a new year. (That’s the whole idea, after all.) I’ve spent too much time and energy trying to help others focus on the parts they can control for me to sit back and marinate in despair – at least, not exclusively. My goals for 2022 may not seem overly ambitious to the better-adjusted among you, but for me… these could be game-changers. I suspect the same is true for one or two others out there as well.

1) It’s time to start reading non-fiction again, especially stuff involving the real world around me. For several years now, I’ve largely avoided watching the news or listening to NPR. I’ve ignored any documentaries that weren’t about art theft, tiger kings, or the movies/albums/toys that “made us.” I’ve largely stuck with hockey and series I’ve already seen – lots of Star Trek, M*A*S*H, Archer, and Marvel movies. That’s OK. It was necessary for things to settle internally. But it’s time to shift back into engagement, this time minus the rage and discouragement that made it counterproductive before. It’s time to reclaim knowledge and thoughtfulness as coping mechanisms, not trap doors.

2) It’s time to put a little more effort into relationships. I’m an introvert in the best of times. I enjoy select people and usually manage to be enjoyable in return, but I don’t draw strength or energy from socializing or networking or whatever. I recharge alone, preferably in quietness. Until these past two years, however, I didn’t realize how much I needed those periodic connections with other people. I don’t need many of them, or for them to happen every day, but I’ve neglected too many good humans who deserved better… and I’ve paid something of a price emotionally and socially.

3) It’s time to practice a little grace and patience with evil self-deluding fascists. Yes, they’ve blasphemed against everything I once believed in spiritually and finally convinced me there’s no truth left in it. Yes, they’ve sacrificed the ideals of what could have been a pretty nice little country in their desperate efforts to assuage their own manufactured sense of perpetual victimhood. Yes, they reek of white supremacy painted up as “meritocracy,” fundamentalist theocracy wrapped in the wool of “religious freedom,” and raw ignorance celebrated as enlightenment. But despite all of this, they’re not all individually irredeemable, or so I’d like to think. Besides, treating others decently isn’t always about them so much as it is about us – and I’d like to be a better “us.”

4) It’s time to continue coming to terms with my own shortcomings, quirks, and failures. I’m still trying to embrace self-awareness enough to make positive changes without becoming so mired in self-loathing that I can’t function. (And yes, I tend to experience things in emotional extremes and react accordingly.) I probably won’t lose twenty pounds, but maybe I could lose two. I’m not swearing off video games or professional wrestling, but maybe those things could take up half of my free time instead of ninety percent of it. I’ll probably still be too reactionary, too angry, and too overwhelmed by things, but maybe I can channel more of that into advocacy, empowerment of others, or self-improvement.

5) It’s time to learn how to make better use of my air fryer. OK, maybe that doesn’t seem like it belongs on the same level as those other things, but it’s a metaphor… or something. It’s one of way too many little things I’ve wanted to learn or do better, but have felt too crushed by reality to bother with anything past chicken strips and air fries. It’s time to reclaim the simple things that feel like progress, real or imagined. It’s time to find small joy in small successes. It’s time to reclaim our sense of self from the events around us.

In 2022, I’m not going to hide from local or national realities, but I would like to find better ways to get involved – to find hope and energy through becoming more pro-active. I’d also like to allow myself the time it will take to organize my music and other computer files, or get back to fixing up the basement, all without feeling like I’m either wasting my time or biting off more than I can chew.

I’m not expecting miracles, from myself or anyone else. I’m fairly realistic at this point about the upcoming difficulties, the ups and downs, and even my own inevitable failures along the way. But if we’re going to survive 2022, it will require a change of attitude, focus, and effort – at least for me. And if we’re not going to make it to 2023, well… I’d like to go down swinging. And singing. And using my air fryer properly.

Happy New Year, my friends. Peace, wisdom, and strength to us all.

Better Than You Think

December 20, 2019June 12, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

10… 9… 8… 7…

It’s almost the end of the semester and – more importantly – the end of another year. I’ve never been one to take on gym memberships I likely won’t use or promise to end habits I’ll probably continue. I do, however, like the idea of fresh starts. They’re rarely total and never complete, but new beginnings – like new school years, new principals, or impeachment hearings, imply a sort of absolution for what’s past and hope for what the future could be.

In other words, January 1^st is a reboot of sorts. And some of us need it more than others.

Let’s face it – no one carries around a pervading sense of guilt and inadequacy like teachers. They care deeply, feel strongly, and give muchly – often to a fault. Many of us are able to be professionally developed, pedagogically creative, and politically active, all while scoring way too high on any clinical assessment of personal dysfunctions.

I think it actually goes together – the passion for learning, the tolerance for teenagers, and the emotional mess most of us manage to be. Two sides of the same smashed penny.

Ruining the Pathology Curve

Not all teachers, of course. Some of you are relatively well-adjusted and fulfilled by a healthy variety of things in both your personal and professional lives. You can’t conceive of something a 16-year old said last Tuesday bugging you in the shower tomorrow morning. You’re perfectly dedicated, but you’d never sacrifice family time or lose actual sleep over the way 3^rd hour butchered that project you were so excited about.

If that’s you, then bless you. Go with God. The rest of us find you weird, but we’re in no position to criticize. We have enough doubt and insecurity to keep us busy without trying to make you our scapegoat.

Still, you might dial it back a bit come March or things could get a bit ugly. At least show up disheveled or almost late once or twice. For the team.

Real Talk

The rest of us aren’t merely relieved to be wrapping up the first half of the school year, but a bit surprised to have survived it at all. You may be wondering if this was really your best choice of schools, or states, or whether or not you’re even in the right profession. You may feel like you haven’t done enough for your students, or – worse – that you’ve done everything you could and it just… didn’t work.

You may feel discouraged, or guilty, or pissed off – but not sure why. A few are genuinely broken, while others settle for denial and maybe a bit more wine than usual. One or two of you are thinking about turning in your keys and going to sell insurance for your brother-in-law like he keeps suggesting.

Do what you gotta do for your life and those you love, but allow me to first clarify a few things about this past semester, and these past few years for that matter. After that, well… it’s your call.

FIRST: It’s Not You, It’s Them.

There’s a foundational conundrum in public education which we don’t address as directly as we should, probably for fear of being misunderstood. It is this:

Most of the problems which manifest themselves in the classroom – from behavior to grades to curriculum to testing – originate outside of the teacher’s control. On the other hand, the only thing the teacher can directly shape is what he or she does to adjust and manage these issues, thus taking full responsibility.

Not culpability – responsibility. The kind we take on by choice because this is what we do; not the kind where it’s all our fault. The kind where we’re willing to bend over backwards trying to find solutions; not the kind where we’re the problem.

Adrian can’t read, Garrett has anger issues, and Anaiyah won’t turn in assignments no matter how often you beg. Yes, you are the adult in the room who must figure out ways to address these issues. Yes, you are the educator who has taken responsibility for solving these problems as best you can. But you didn’t cause them. They are not your failure. They are not proof of anything about you, other than your willingness to keep trying.

Make like Elsa and LET IT GO. You’re killing yourself slowly with the wrong sad song. At the risk of being blunt, you’re not important enough to have messed them up this thoroughly in the short time you’ve had them, and not special enough to fix it all in a school year.

SECOND: Evaluations Aren’t Real

Unless you have a particularly enlightened and involved administration, you may safely ignore everything they say in your evaluations in terms of measuring your actual worth. You may want to jump through a few hoops to keep the rubrics happy or show you’re a “team player,” but only take official evaluations to heart if the comments resonate with you as both genuine and useful.

I’m not suggesting you grab your building rep and throw a fit in the follow-up conference. Evals are part of the gig, for both you and them. Besides, criticism can be helpful, whether it’s presented constructively or not. But most evaluations are hoops for your administration to jump through to please their bosses. They, in turn, have to keep the state happy. The system is dictated by legislators who may not even like public schooling – and who certainly have no idea what makes a successful teacher.

Do what you gotta do to keep your gig or score that merit pay, but don’t take evals to heart if – after a reasonable period of reflection – you decide they’re neither accurate nor useful.

Because they’re probably not.

THIRD: Reject Teacher Stereotypes

I suppose there are teachers out there who suck and simply don’t care. But as Peter Greene of Curmudgucation has often pointed out, there’s nothing more difficult to manage than a classroom of bored or frustrated students. Teachers who aren’t doing their best to engage the kids in front of them aren’t saving themselves from hard work; they’re making things harder on themselves.

There are times we probably could have done better. I sometimes fail to anticipate what – in retrospect – were obvious weaknesses in my planning. I’ve certainly said the wrong things, done the wrong things, and occasionally been in a completely non-helpful state of mind. So I’m certainly not suggesting we shouldn’t be self-aware enough to always be looking for ways to improve. A certain amount of suffering and frustration can be quite productive if it helps us grow.

But the idea that the entire profession is packed with slackers and people who aren’t qualified to get real jobs is nonsense. In 23 years I’ve encountered only a handful of teachers who simply aren’t any good or aren’t doing the best they can in whatever circumstances they find themselves.

FOURTH (And Most Importantly): You’re Doing Better Than You Think

“One may sows, another weeds, someone else waters… the actual reaping comes WAY later, pal.”

I’m paraphrasing a bit, but that’s totally in the Bible. It’s from the New Testament, which we don’t really use anymore, but still…

We rarely see the long-term impact of our efforts in this business. Occasionally you’ll have a kid write something thoughtful in a card or say something at that sticks with you. From time to time, they’ll come back and visit or reach out on social media.

Grab on to those moments and remember them. Document them if it helps. Recognize, though, that every child who does this represents another thousand or so who don’t.

It’s not that they weren’t impacted; they just don’t think about it. They may not consciously recognize the role you played in building their little lives or how much easier you made the remainder of their academic journey. Or, they may simply not be the type to make an issue of it if they do.

It doesn’t matter. You don’t need it to do your thing. What you DO need is to realize that the lack of immediate results doesn’t condemn your efforts or your methodology. Not everything we teach shows up on state test results. Some of it doesn’t show up at all until much later. Your failure to promptly cure 140 needy children in an hour a day for 180 days doesn’t mean you suck as an educator or a person.

What it suggests to me, at least, is that you’re kicking some serious ass – the way you keep showing up and trying to find new approaches and loving them even when they make it so hard. I’m amazed at how you jump through the hoops the powers-that-be keep throwing your way while still trying to hold on to what’s really important, whatever that looks like in your world.

I don’t even mind some of the self-doubt and desperation to be better, to do more, to somehow make it all work. It may not be entirely healthy, but if it drives you forward and keeps you introspective – and that’s something.

But I ask you to go into this new year without carrying so much guilt, so much manufactured failure, and so much self-doubt. See yourself as I see you, as do many others whether they tell you or not. You are a miracle worker, even if the miracles aren’t quick or clear. You are a stubborn, talented, creative, committed, pedagogical mother—

Well, you get the idea.

Don’t quit. Keep sowing, weeding, and watering. You’re going to have some big wins in 2020, and it would be a shame to miss them.

RELATED POST: Another Year Over (A New One Just Begun)

RELATED POST: Happy New Mirrors!

Things You Can Do

January 3, 2018June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

It’s easy to feel completely and totally whipped by events beyond our immediate control these days. I’ve had to walk away from social media and all forms of legit news – local, national, or foreign – for days at a time, just to find the energy to function and do the stuff “real life” needs me to do. I hate having to choose between being engaged and being happy – part of why things go to hell in the first place is because too many people aren’t paying real attention.

But it’s a new year, and while there’s no particular magic to a man-made calendar and an arguably arbitrary changing of the numerals, it IS a good time to reevaluate and reboot. It’s a GREAT time to try to make small but significant changes in how you approach the world.

Obviously I’d love to make some sort of major difference – so would many of you. And if that chance comes, then take it. Jump. Speak. Risk. Be a hero, a voice, a thorn in someone’s propaganda. What’s the worse that’s likely to happen? Maybe you’ll look a bit melodramatic or paranoid when things play out OK. I can live with that. Maybe there will be consequences, mockery, or even very real backlash. If you’re doing what’s right, I believe that’s a good thing – however much it will no doubt suck in real time.

But while we’re straining to remain vigilant and preparing for the possibility of such moments, I thought it might be useful to have an open discussion about some things most of us could do in the meantime. Stuff to fight the decay, and to proclaim some better “American” values. Heck, some of them may even be spiritual values as well.

I triple-dog dare you to do at least one of these as soon as you finish reading this post, and to add one or two a month until sainthood is achieved and all of our problems are solved. Feel free to add your own suggestions at the end – they may be better than mine.

(1) Subscribe to a newspaper. Anything legit will do. Local papers have many benefits, but there are plenty of online publications you’re reading anyway every time someone links to a story on Twitter or Facebook. Pick one or two and give them your $10/month to read them for real. If we say we value truth and investigatory journalism and the free press, then value it.

(2) Support local artists. Go see a play at the community theatre. Buy tickets to some dance performance that sounds interesting but may or may not make any sense to you. Visit your local museums, and if they don’t charge admission, drop some money in that donation box near the entrance. Go have a beer and cheer for some local band – especially if they’re playing a few originals along with “Jesse’s Girl” for the zillionth time. Art matters. It’s not all miraculous, and it’s not all progressive, but by its nature art seeks truth and explores humanity. If you want to fight our descent into fascism, support the arts in whatever flavor most appeals to you.

(3) Be nice to someone scary and/or dirty. Obviously I’m not asking you to put yourself in physical danger or to give money to someone you suspect is simply scamming folks just trying to make a left turn. But it doesn’t have to be money or taking them for coffee (although the latter has very real potential) – start by making eye contact. Talk to them, even if it’s just to say “hello” or “good morning.” Find some excuse to be pleasant to folks behind you in line or standing at the same counter (bonus points if they’re a different color or obviously from a different socio-economic realm). Let someone have that parking place or go ahead of you to order lunch. Compliment their shoes or earrings. It’s cliched but true – that stuff makes us feel better.

(4) Volunteer once a month somewhere. My druthers lean towards the ACLU or CAIR, but you don’t have to go that direction if that’s not you. Food banks always need help, as does Habitat for Humanity. If you’re not sure where to start, ask your employer, or find the local United Way, or religious institution of your choice. It’s OK if you want to go with someone you trust a bit more than the rest – but do SOMETHING. A few hours matter, and it might just grow on you.

(5a) Read novels. Fiction tends to promote empathy – not as a plot point, but simply by its nature. Reading of any kind expands our horizons and broadens our base of knowledge. It makes us think differently than we might otherwise, and it takes our brain out of the grind and into a higher place for a while. Even if it’s only for a few minutes a day, we’re not quite the same when we return. Take one of those gift cards you got for Christmas or dig out that old library card you hardly ever use and pick something. If you don’t like it, you have my full permission to set it aside after a few chapters and try something else. No guilt – this is READING.

(5b) Read history. There’s so much accessible, well-written history available. It doesn’t have to be anything overtly tied to current events – pick something or someone in whom you have passing interest and see what B&N, Amazon, or your local library thinks might make a good place to start learning more. Nor does it have to be deep and complicated. If you don’t read much history, start with something light – but legit. Pretend it’s for your teenager if you’re worried about looking foolish. But you won’t.

(6) Get involved in local political campaigns – especially during primaries. Don’t wait until the big national elections. Volunteer to make calls, to knock on doors, to talk to the public. I know it often ends up feeling futile, but we can give up or we can try. So we try.

(7) Pay attention to your loved ones. It’s easy in frustrating times to take our nearest and dearest for granted, whether they agree with us or not. Make sure you’re listening to your spouse, spending time with your kids (and not just watching the news with them), making plans with your friends. Stay connected to real people in your real world. Value them, and love them even if they don’t always make it easy. They’re why reality matters – don’t let it alienate you from them.

(8) Insist on the good things. Listen to music that gives you strength or makes you happy. Binge on that same dumb show on Netflix. Have desert (unless that plunges you into guilt and same instead). Notice when people are smart or funny or do nice things. Point it out to yourself when things work out the way you wish they would. This isn’t about being optimistic, and certainly not about bathing yourself in self-delusion – it’s about building monuments to the “wonderful life” moments. It’s about not letting others’ distortions and destruction steal your joy quite so easily.

(9) When you DO engage in social or political discussions, whether in person or online, avoid either marinating in your outrage or escalating when you know better. Don’t fight crazy with crazy, or hate with hate, and for the love of all that is holy, don’t fight shoddy attention to facts and reality by being shoddier. If your emotions begin to swell, it’s usually a safe bet you should walk away before (or instead of) responding.

Consider responding ONCE to dissent or challenge, on the off chance an actual dialogue may be established. Maybe they have a point. Maybe you’re missing some dynamic in the situation. Maybe you can reach someone else with your ideas or values. But if that’s clearly not what’s happening after one reply, let it go. No need to even tell them why; there are few things so deafening as the silence of cyberspace when you think you’re really sticking it to someone and they simply lose interest and disappear.

And finally…

(10) Meditate, or Pray, or Reflect. Set aside a few minutes each day and clear your mind. Talk yourself through things calmly. Recite the basics you know to be true. List things for which you’re thankful. Sort through what you can and can’t control. If you believe in God, then turn it over – on purpose, whether you feel it or not. If you don’t, do it anyway. Breathe, and lower that blood pressure. We need you, healthy and centered and clear-headed and strong. Take care of yourself, seriously. If you don’t know where to begin, ask someone who does.

Who knows? We might just turn this mess around. Even if we don’t, though, we can go down gloriously. That probably means some kicking and screaming, but it also means refusing to let THEM set the tone. It means insisting on DOING everything we can do to make things better, and righter, and truer, even if we eventually lose.

I believe in you. Let’s get to it.

Another Year Over (A New One Just Begun)

December 23, 2017June 4, 2023 ~ Blue Cereal

I’ll be honest with you. I’ve always liked New Year’s more than Christmas.

I know. I’m sorry, but it’s true.

Christmas is fine. Here’s to redemption, and kindness, and gifts that say, “I’ve tried to pay attention.” I like seasonal movies and music – the same 74 songs have been playing endlessly from my red flash drive since Thanksgiving, only a few of which are humorous and none of which involve singing animals or grandma’s demise. And I cry at the same parts of the same films annually – Bill Murray’s redemption in Scrooged, Michael’s efforts to stir up Christmas Spirit (so Santa’s sleigh can fly) in Elf, even Charlie Brown and that same, sad little tree every year since before I was born.

I don’t really do “wacky dysfunctional family” movies whether they’re Christmas-themed or not, so that’s eliminated most of the seasonal fare from the past decade or so. I won’t even talk about Bad Santa or anything crass and offensive but with Noels and Tannenbaums slapped on for cheap laughs. I do generally enjoy obscure claymation, but I’ve dialed back that genre since experiencing Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey about five years ago. It was just so… sincere. And disturbing. And wrong wrong wrong, only with an actual Nativity anchoring the plot.

There’s just not enough nog in the fridge to risk something like that again.

So I’m not anti-Christmas. I am, however, a much bigger fan of new beginnings. Fresh starts. Rebooting to factory settings. The season may begin with Thanksgiving, but it doesn’t end until New Year’s Day. It’s practically a package deal, and rightfully so. Whatever else the Baby Jesus was about, His story is certainly about being made new, yes? About the possibility of having your failures and screw-ups washed away – at least metaphorically – and starting over. Being born… again.

Which is, you know… amazing.

But it’s New Year’s that makes it tangible and contains a less lofty, more literal rebirth. It’s not really about staying up until midnight, although I usually do, even now. I personally have zero interest in big parties or raucous countdowns, and while I’ve been known to have a drink or two, most of the time it takes about 2/3 of a single Redd’s Blueberry Ale before I’m asleep on the couch with my neck in some horrible position and fruitcake crumbs spilling down my Star Trek PJs.

And I don’t really make big resolutions – at least not any more than throughout the rest of the year. People talk about keeping that Christmas feeling all year long, but the holiday I’m most likely to emulate endlessly comes a week later.

The number of things I vow I’ll never do again times the number of healthy habits I swear I’ll get serious about next week minus the total occurrences of complete and utter failure equals the square root of why do I even bother – plus or minus self-loathing and hope.

But that’s the thing about reboots and new beginnings. It doesn’t really matter how much you’ve failed before. How often you’ve fallen short. How regularly you wish you’d just… ARRRGHHH! GET IT RIGHT, YOU $#%^*!

Because tomorrow you get up and try again. Because it’s a new morning. It’s a new week. It’s a new semester, a new season, a new job, a new place, a new chance, a new identity, a new direction.

It’s a new year. Like, literally.

I know it’s not miraculous – that’s the one from the week before. I know that a clean slate, like fresh snow, is in many ways just another canvas on which you’ll no doubt spill your badly-mixed watercolors, probably sooner rather than later. And it will smudge right away and smell funny and tear on the one side you thought was actually going rather well, because…

Because that’s just how real life is.

But for a moment, it’s new. For a moment, there’s hope. Enough of those, strung together… well, that’s kinda like ongoing possibility, isn’t it? And it’s not like you can keep doing everything wrong the same way forever – if nothing else, the sheer volume of monkeys and typewriters should produce moments of merit if you simply give it enough time.

And sometimes you get it right. Sometimes you do good. Sometimes you don’t suck. Sometimes… you’re a slightly better version of you.

When that happens, make a note. Mark it down. Build internal monuments, not to worship, but to remember.

That it went well. That it helped, and you mattered, and things were a smidgen better when you tried. That the risk paid off and the hurt lessened and she felt hope and he felt stronger and maybe…

Maybe that can happen again.

Mark it down, dammit – CLING TO IT LIKE LIFE. You’ll need it for reference, and sooner than you think.

Because you’ll probably mess something up again, or at least not catch something you should have caught. You’ll try to fix something and make it worse, or act like a jerk when you fully meant to keep it together. Maybe you’re not as creative as you wish or as smart as you like to think, or maybe you’re simply alarmingly average in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe you’re a screw-up and terrified of how much worse it could be if people really knew. Maybe you feel fat, or maybe you throw up to numb the chaos, or you wish you’d stayed in school or found a better job. Maybe you’ve hurt people and they’ve hurt you and you’re not even sure which parts are your fault anymore.

Maybe you’ll have high hopes for the new year but still find yourself tired and angry and wrestling with despair because what the hell is even happening anymore and why do more people not see it and how can we possibly respond when we’re just so inadequate and small and flawed and…

stupid

dirty

emotional

tired

numb

poor

tired

meek

scared

tired

worried

broken

tired

angry

tired

inadequate

tired

seriously so very tired?

But it’s a new year in a few weeks. And a new week even before that, and again after. It’s a new day tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.

And you’re surrounded by other inadequate, frustrated, flawed, wonderful folks who will probably make you crazy as often as they make you feel better. Help them. Encourage them. Push them. And they’ll do the same for you.

Don’t lie to them, or to yourself. You can’t fight darkness with lies (duh). But help them see what they’re doing right, and to notice when they do good. Sometimes they don’t suck. Sometimes… they’re that better version of themselves they always kinda hoped they might be.

When that happens, make a note. Share it when it feels right. Build some monuments, not to worship, but to remember. Be a Reminder, a Did-You-Noticer, and a Hip-Hip-Hoorayer for those struggling around you. And when you do fall short, or go so so totally wrong, know that morning is coming. A new week is near. Just keep restarting, dammit.

It’s a new year, kids. You can help. You can matter. Things can be a smidgen better because we kept trying, and because you helped someone else keep trying as well.

We just need enough monkeys. Bring your typewriters.

RELATED POST: Happy New Mirrors!

10… 9… 8… 7…

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Ruining the Pathology Curve

Real Talk