About Me: I've been knitting since I got bored one summer in college and made a raglan sleeved rag-wool sweater that still almost fits. My favorite things to knit are Scandanavian colorwork and lace. I don't like to knit socks or sleeves. Some years ago, I completed the Level 1 Master Course with The Knitting Guild of America. That's as far as I got, but I did learn a lot and I recommend it highly.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Yep, I'm here. Alarm didn't fail to go off, car started, didn't forget my keys or my ID or my spare contacts. I'm here. Ready to go. Three extra pens, one from the bank, just to be on the safe side.
Before I went to sleep last night I couldn't help but notice that the ceiling on my darkened hotel room looked so much like the ceilings of all the other rooms where I've slept the night before something big. A great big dark space of waiting for something to happen. Including in that somewhere a chance that it might not, or that it might turn out worse than I am hoping it does. A great big edge. What I notice is that despite the edge, the things will happen even if I don't dive into it, or jump, or run. I can wade into it, I can float until I just feel like letting go of the edge, until the wave washes me on. What I can't do is cling and hope that when the sun comes up it all won't be necessary.
Wow, I really need to get back to my index cards with the future interests in property notes, or I just may write a crazy stream of consciousness passage in my essays about the best interests of the child, or the business judgment rule. But anyway, those were the abysmal thoughts that visited me as I drifted off to sleep last night. Today, with more coffee, I'm just ready to start.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
I am having one of those weeks, weeks I have regularly. I doubt at times that I am even using the English language properly, the way people look at me when I attempt to transfer information or requests in what I believe is the most concise, direct, honest, and polite way possible. I imagine myself walking calmly back to my office, closing the door and the blinds, and then crawling under my desk to hide for a while until they all go away. Last week when I was not here, but working remotely (and make sure you put 'working' like this: "working"), I imagined never coming back. Why am I here again? Why am I doing this? What if I do just chuck it all and take up professional kite-flying instead; that would work, right?
At times like this, I read this great blog called "The People's Therapist." He's a lawyer practicing as a psychotherapist. Fantastic blog. It keeps me right on track. Today's post was called "You do Law. No, You Do Law". His posts remind me of two things. First, no one really wants to be an adult. We want to stay home during the snowstorm and just play, drink cocoa and read a good book. But so many of us shovel the walk instead, or trudge off to work, and then resent our obligations instead of celebrating the fact that we are, for the most part, capable of carrying them out. There are so many ways of enjoying our maturity instead of resisting it.
Second, don't advertise your insecurity. Everyone else has bad moments, days, or weeks too. So vent when you can, but don't turn into the insecure office person everyone else has to boost up all the time. Think about what you're going to say, and hesitate just a little bit. And just let the feeling of insecurity pass instead of giving it voice. (Remember when we all thought Polonius was an old fool for saying "Give thy thoughts no tongue"?).
I'm back in the mood to work now.