Wanted: Equilibrium

Challenge of the moment: finding the balance between resting the ol' brain after the many years of intense overwork, and still functioning enough to do all of the thinking, writing and deciding that needs to be done.

After a lifetime of being forced into positions where I had to take everything (myself included) oh so seriously, I'm tempted to throw it all to the wind, be irresponsible and frivolous for perhaps the first time in my life.

But I don't know how to do irresponsible and frivolous! Help me, somebody.

Cloudy...

... with a chance of...






MEATBALLS!

Pork meatballs with carrot, leek and onion, made from scratch without a recipe. *pats self on back*

Finished, Part II.

It is DONE! In the assignment box and away they go.

Goodbye, academic writing! So long, hours of tedious research! Maybe we'll meet again.

Maybe.

I'm too alone in the world, yet not alone enough
to make each hour holy.
I'm too small in the world, yet not small enough
to be simply in your presence, like a thing --
just as it is.

I want to know my own will
and to move with it.
And I want, in the hushed moments
when the nameless draws near,
to be among the wise ones --
or alone.

I want to mirror your immensity.
I want never to be too weak or too old
to bear the heavy, lurching image of you.



I want to unfold.
Let no place in me hold itself closed,
for where I am closed, I am false.
I want to stay clear in your sight.

I would describe myself
like a landscape I've studied
at length, in detail;
like a word I'm coming to understand;
like a pitcher I pour from at mealtime;
like my mother's face;
like a ship that carried me
when the waters raged.

-- Rainer Maria Rilke

Finished, Part I.

Just like that, the last class is over.

An anticlimactic end to two excessively painful years of attending lectures.

I went grocery shopping right after, and "accidentally" ended up in one of my favourite stationery shops "along the way" to the supermarket. (The car was parked on Level 1, the supermarket's on the ground floor and the stationery shop is on Level 3, but still I insist it was on the way.)

When the salesboy asked how I am today, instead of the usual "Good, thanks", I blurted out, "I just finished my Master's!"

Even though, technically, I won't actually finish until I've handed in those last two papers and completed 70 more clinical hours. I sheepishly added those details.

But still, I got a high-five and a spirited "Mazel tov!"

That'll do for now.

I think I should quickly wind up and go to sleep.

Part of my 3,000-word research report that I'm evidently typing faster than I can think:

"Evaluating the work of Singhal (2004) and Rastogi & Wampler (1999) in toto, it would appear that we're not in Kansas anymore."

Toto, Kansas, geddit?

Hopefully once I start sleeping more like a normal person again, I will be more like a normal person again.

Build a better sandwich

Dear body,

Have I ever told you that I appreciate all that you do to support me? You put up with my self-inflicted late nights that arise from my need to go the extra mile in all of my work, even when the sanest thing to do is aim straight for a Pass and go to bed.

You enable me to spin, kick, jump, twirl, dip and all sorts of other bizarre things in the name of what I call "dance".

You walk me to some places and drive me to others, all while ensuring that I don't trip on the pavement (which I have done before) or collide with a parked car (which I have also done before) in my fatigue.

In appreciation, I would like you to enjoy being fuelled with the best food I can afford.

However, you know I am a very intermittently employed full-time student and so the best that I can afford is usually not very fancy.

Also, although I have pulled off some pretty impressive kitchen stunts, I have also been known to fail splendidly.

Still, I will try my best and sometimes, the results will surprise us both.

When I am pressed for time, you will have to put up with sandwiches. But they might be astonishingly good sandwiches that leave me a little incredulous. Can anything this good come out of Ren's kitchen?


And when I have the luxury of a whole weekend morning, you might get to enjoy a more lavish plate without me rushing you on to our next appointment.



Either way, this is my way of saying thank you, not so much to you as to the One who created you -- or is that me? Well, us. Because according to some people, this is the way to live.


Love,
The rest of me

Ancient and present

"All nations surround me; in the name of the LORD I will surely cut them off." (Psalm 118:10)

I don't know about nations, but I am definitely surrounded by work. Files on my right, books on my left and behind me and on my coffee table and under my desk. It's easy to be overwhelmed by the masses and masses of things calling out for attention, easy to trip over them, easy to forget the perspective that I had but recently.

"In the name of the LORD..." and in no other...

"... I will surely cut them off." No research paper is too daunting. I can say to the challenge of completing all of this work in such a short time, "You pushed me violently so that I was falling, but the LORD helped me" (Psalm 118:13).

Yes, in these last weeks my postgrad degree has come to resemble some kind of malevolent wild predator in my mind, hence the Facebook status messages about hunting and capturing and shooting. For a mostly non-violent person, I am becoming very bloodthirsty. (It's what happens when you take a lifelong daydreamer, have her be a writer for 13 years, and then train her in narrative therapy. Inevitable.) But instead of asking "Who's stalking whom?", I shall just answer the question with, "I'll win."

And I will win.

Fried

That pretty much describes the state of my mind at present. I cannot believe how difficult and time-consuming it's been to watch my counselling DVD. And I haven't even got to work writing my critique, this is just watching the video of me in practice and I'm already groaning with fatigue.

I wonder what this says about me. Get me to see six clients in a seven-hour span on a single day, and I'll gladly do it. Ask me to co-facilitate an anger group at a time normally reserved for dinner and quality time with a book, and I'll do that, too. Not only because I need the hours but because I love the time that I spend with clients. But make me record myself counselling and then watch it in detail? I would rather run around my apartment building while barking. Or hand-wash every single tea towel I own. Or manually shred two kilos of carrots for cake. Not that any of those things will earn me a pass for this subject.

I sure hope my lecturer doesn't feel this drained when it's time for her to view the video.

Blargh. So depleted, I wander off to find something fun to do before I embark on Part II: Writing the Critique.

Hmph.

Of all the titles Andrew Lloyd Weber has to choose for his sequel to Phantom, he has to go and rip off our song title from Drunk Before Dawn. Are there really so few words in the English language? How about Love Lives On? More optimistic, isn't it? BAH.

(I'm not bitter, oh no I'm not. Why should I mind that a world-famous composer happened to pick the title of a song I co-wrote to be the title of his new, no doubt extravagantly produced and wildly popular musical? Why, indeed? Really, one has better things to do around here. Like maybe finish packing and tidying up so as not to miss one's flight to Melbourne.)

I really should go close that suitcase.