"the hardest thing in this world is to live in it"
Not so much the daily grind, as the things that fall outside the scope of academics.
I found this short biography in an online site I’ve not visited in a long time; I don’t recall even saying it, but it sounds like me (and well, is in my bio, so there ya go). I like, not the least of which for its truth.
About me: Preferring an ivory tower to a silicon city…
Anyone who’s seen me lately has probably seen my red, watery eyes and sniffling nose. They’ve probably thought it’s just allergies, but it’s not. The girl who never cries has been failing at holding back tears for going on weeks. And it’s not because I’m sad. It’s because I’m happy. I’m more than happy, I’m in awe.
I’m going to be graduating in the top 5% of my class in June, an achievement recognized by a lot of various honours and awards. I have been funded for a year straight in my research by the Gates Foundation, and I have been accepted to my dream graduate program. That I’m even making it to graduation has me in awe, the rest is icing.
Because for better or worse, my idea of myself has been formed around the only two long term relationships I have had, both of which ended with the man telling me that he didn’t believe I was ever going to make anything of myself. That I wouldn’t be able to achieve any worthwhile goals, that I would never be anything, anyone. That what I was doing was useless, and I would always fail. I shrugged it off as sour grapes from the first guy – after all, I was leaving him, finally breaking his hold on me. But the second one devestated me, and it’s been that tiny voice in the back of my head for the last two years. His voice, telling me that my choice of career and interests were part of the reason he was leaving me. The voice has been fading lately, and I expect that by June 09 it will be completely exorcised.
I am in awe that I have done what I have. The research, the conferences, the teaching – I’ve been going around thanking a few people in person the last few days, and each of them has said almost the exact same thing to me: that I have taken advantage of every opportunity to improve myself and expand upon my education. Every thanks has been met with a throwing it back upon me and what I’ve done, and I don’t shrug that off any more.
I am in awe of where I’m going. I’m not going to be doing…I don’t know. Something that locks me away in a tower somewhere. I’m going to be training to be in a position of influencing literal life and death decisions. That’s an awesome privilege, and power, to be facing.
As egotistic as it sounds, I see myself doing great things in my future. I see that I’m going to make a difference, and this isn’t something I saw even a few months ago. I see my potential, and I am not shrugging off and away or making excuses, I’m just looking at it, dead on, and it’s overwhelming to see.
So yes, if you see me, sniffly and watery red eyes, chances are I am caught in the beauty and the crispness of the moment, and am overwhelmed by the powerful feelings of love and gratitude towards those who’ve made this possible, who’ve supported me through my darkest hours and highest peaks. Chances are that my breathe is caught in my throat as I watch my future unfold in front of me, and chances are, chances are, I am finally, finally proud of what I have done, will do, and who I am.
Right. Write. I’m back to trying to write every morning, no matter what. Taking a key, I suppose, from The Artist’s Way, I figure the only way I’m going to get my thesis written in the next 80-odd days (*gulp*) is to simply get back in the habit of writing freely. Thus, this.
I used to do this exercise religiously, when I was trying to move towards freelance writing. I’d wake up every morning, pour a cup of coffee, and sit at my desk. My desk was next to a patio, tucked in a nook, and I could write for a bit, and if I needed inspiration, I could just turn my head and look out the window. The immediate view was a small garden on a tiny deck. Planter boxes perched on deck railings, full of vines and ivy’s and sweet peas and other trailing plants, larger pots of camelias and grasses and other pretty things, hanging icicle lights and a torch in the corner for light. Beyond that was a view of Elliot Bay, shifting and silver and blue. I’d sit, coffee warming my hands, watching the container ships move with surprising speed across the water, timing how long it took them to pass behind the single tall building blocking a continuous view.
Today, I’m sitting in the middle of my sisters bed, having just woken up. I have one cat firmly fixed on my lap; occasionally he reaches out and tries to swat the keyboard, but at the moment he’s resting his head on my left hand, which makes typing interesting. The other cat is standing near the litterbox, at the foot of the closet. His eyes are half-closed, like he’s going to sleep soon, but I know better. He’s just waiting for me to leave the room so he can scoop the litter out, his new game.
I could hear Toby walking around downstairs; so could the cats, which is why they made it about three feet into the hall before scurrying back in here. Dad’s probably out on the phone in the backyard. There’s coffee, but I’d need to go downstairs to get it, and that seemed like too much mucking about before writing. When I finish with this, I’ll relocate my stuff downstairs and have coffee and a small breakfast.
My immediate view is that, as I already alluded to, of my sisters room. If I wanted to, I could probably set myself up with a view of trees and squirrell’s, but it’s a shaded and closed view. The horizon disappears, instead of opens endlessly before me, full of potential. It’s a secret sort of view, whispering and hinting at things, instead of broad and inviting. I suppose, on reflection, that is appropriate, as it reflects my mental state. Then, those years ago – slightly over four! – life really did feel broadly inviting and full of open potential. Now, as I mentioned last night, things do feel more secret and whispering, like I’m about to emerge on something that the world around me wants to hint at, but no more.
Perhaps our surroundings do influence, or at least reflect, these sorts of things more than we’re consciously aware.
The Thunderbirds are making history, and… I am thrilled, and I am sad. In my early teens, I went through a phase where, had you asked, this would have been me. I would have been the first female fighter pilot, the first to fly in one of these elite teams. I admit, althought I love the F-16, I would have gunned to fly an FA-18 Hornet, which is what the Blue Angels fly. I am, after all, a Navy girl by birth and legacy, and I wouldn’t have left that behind for the Air Force (a slightly older cousin did that, and family gatherings turned into collecting jokes about the Air Force… a slightly more difficult task than you’d imagine, although I’d love to say it was easy; the Air Force definitely is at the top of the military pecking order).
I’ve known for a long time that this was not a record I would set. Even though, it’s another mark on the list of things I will never accomplish that I once desired, and thus makes me introspective.
This thread makes me happy. I feel like I was able to do something good today, to really help someone, and I haven’t really at all felt like I’ve been doing anything good or helpful to others in a while. (I’ll whine about this later, after I’ve slept some more.) But, I have to admit that while I think I ‘did good’ in the thread, I didn’t start off with the best frame of mind about it. Originally, I read the thread and I thought “oh geeez, another person making stupid leaps when they don’t know WHAT they’re talking about” and I went to look at my AIM window for a friend I usually paste thread links to when it’s people being religiously dumb, so we could laugh over the dumbness.
And although I had that reaction and still went on to post in the thread, I am ashamed of that reaction. It wasn’t terribly generous of me, and as the development of conversation shows, it was really inaccurate. Not that the accuracy really matters. Ungracious behaviour is ungracious behaviour, no matter the reasoning behind it.
The second of the eightfold path is right thought, and I very much was not practicing that this evening while reading the LJ Buddhist community. The irony of that, and the subject matter of that particular thread, is not lost on me.