It ain’t the weather…

I am thankful for people’s previous selfless comments and mails with support and love, always, and without question.

But this has nothing to do with the foul weather, and nothing to do with grad-school. I love both of these things with all of my heart. And it’s fleeting, and neither a true danger to myself nor my happiness.

This is a current nexus of an immeasurable amount of inner speculation and the glossy reality of my third decade splayed out before me. More succinctly, it is a combination of the following, in no particular order:

1) The overwhelming mindfuck of picking up and moving to a different country, chocked full of new experiences, cultural identities, and philisophical and moral ideals, juxtaposed against my previous ones and realizing that what made me who I am back home is the not the same thing here. And who I was there is not who I am here. Parts overlap, but not all.

2) The shredding and recovery from the terminus of a nine-year relationship that I let chart my emotional nature and obliterate my feelings of self-worth and my ability to be functional, in every sense of the word. And pulling the bits together and striving to be healthy and good, once again. Finding me.

3) Coming face-to-face with the Dream that I’ve been hounding for virtually all of my life, and fully realizing it in taste, smell, and touch, and that it may or may not be what I want to do for the rest of my life, and moreso, that I may not have the abilty to do so, and do it well. (see note #2) These are just thoughts, whether founded or not. But I see that Academics, at the source, are like little children, all trying to outwit each other and be cool. Their prestige is a fabrication, because most are socially inept, which is precisely why they bury themselves in archives and books and typewriters. Strangely, this appeals to me greatly as well, but I feel that I have too much to say to other people, and to much to learn from them, too, to relegate myself to a peering-from-behind-the-desk position Forever and Ever. Very little of this need has anything to do with book knowledge.

4) The possibility of losing forever a serious contender for Permanent Mate in exchange for following my Path to wherever it leads me out here. Someone who knows me, and loves me. And someone who is willing to take a second out of her own life to look at me, and connect with me, on both of our terms, effortlessly. Who I constantly learn from, and who I look up to. That, abutted against the knowledge that I’m still very much damaged goods and incapable of being able to function successfully in a strong relationship (#2 ibid), pokes me in the ribs just about every day.

5) Wanting to clone myself, á la Dolly, so that I may pursue the wonderful career I had back home, which gave me no end of happiness, contentedness, and warmth, as well as artistry, self-confidence, personal growth, and self-indulgence…while still maintaining my current trail to academic enlightenment and those oh-so-pretty letters trailing comet-like from the end of my name. I can’t really do both. Not really.

6) Most of all, being an emotional primary, while balancing it with my intellectual secondary and making room for my quickly-charging physical tertiary. This translates to me being ever focused on how I’m feeling, tempering it with logic and the need to shove aside my heart in lieu of absolute concentration on intangible ghosts of the past, and then slaking my incontestable compulsion to run and bike and hit things (in the ring and out) to valve the corporeal accumulation of my primary and secondary elements.

I really don’t like making this stuff important enough to talk about in a forum such as this, but to relegate such feelings to agencies as benign as the weather would be unfair, and inaccurate.

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