Taking stock

So it has been a momentous week for me. Wednesday was my last day of work. Yesterday was my first time shadowing a woman in my future profession. And today is the day I move out of Boston. So many good-byes and thank-yous to be said. Leaving work was harder than I imagined it would be. They got me ice cream cake. Ice cream cake is my favorite. I don't think they knew that, but still. When I got home, after a thoughtful final commute, I found that my coworker had written on my facebook wall, "Walk out that door and DON'T LOOK BACK!" Cheers to him for helping me keep things in perspective. I didn't want to be there. That's the whole point of this!

Yesterday's job shadow went really well. The SLP I shadowed works with pre-school children with special needs - feeding disorders, speech, articulation and language issues. It really was interesting all the different kinds of cases she works with. I don't know if I could do the pre-school thing on a daily basis, but I will admit the kids were pretty damn cute. I used to not be a kid person, and I still think of myself that way, but the more time I spend with them the more I like them. Which freaks me out.

And today we're packing up the van, loading up the kitty and heading back to CT. I've never been attached to a place I've lived in before. My homes growing up I didn't pick myself. I just ended up there with my family so there wasn't a feeling of ownership associated with them. My apartments in college were just holes, or maybe I should call them "learning experiences". But my place here, the sanctuary of gorgeousness; I'm really going to miss it. I think I've mentally turned it into a metaphor for my life here. The freedom, the flexibility, the social life, the cozy nights in with friends, my first Thanksgiving turkey...

Sad as I am, I think the more appropriate word is appreciative. When major life chapters wrap up, you're forced to take stock of what you have, in both a physical (literal) and emotional way. I have been blessed with opportunities here, with the memorable experiences here, and most importantly with the people here. So from the bottom of my heart, a sincere thank you to JV, LD, LR, KNB, MS, and - obviously - RP. You guys are amazing and without you this experience wouldn't have meant what it does to me.

A writer's dilemma

I've been considering the implications of the adage, "write what you know." By writing what you know, you can bring life and accuracy to your stories far more successfully than by making things up as you go. Your personal experiences also provide a wealth of relatable characters and anecdotes to draw from. For me this is a bonus because I have yet to develop a talent for inventing stories and personalities on my own. I hope that one day this will come more naturally, but right now, no dice. What's more, non-fiction sells better than fiction, so that's a pretty big incentive for writing about one's own life rather than making up someone else's.

But the more I consider the idea of writing what I know, the trickier it gets. A couple examples for you: I just re-read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. This book is one part travel writing and nine parts autobiography/journey of self-discovery. Ms. Gilbert discusses, well, pretty much everything; crippling depression, spiritual philosophy, masturbation, talking to herself - the list goes on. Frankly, my dear, those some hefty topics to consider in the third person, let alone in the first. And then there's the young woman writing for Cosmo about the 77 sex positions she will test out with her boyfriend in as many days. What on earth does she tell her parents she's working on!?

Safe, tactful subjects that one is comfortable discussing with most everyone - plans to go to grad school, how the cat is doing, what you had for lunch - hardly make for gripping reading. What makes a story worth reading are drama, emotion, scandal with a pinch of bawdiness thrown in for good measure. We've all got those things going on, let's be honest, but the trick is figuring out how to write about them. So I guess I either need to grow a backbone and get down to it, or find a suitable research project to write about and skip discussing my life all together. I'm not too keen on either.

It never fails

I had an incident at work yesterday that made me so mad, by the time I got off the phone I was literally shaking. I know I have felt this indignant at other times in my life, but it's been so long I honestly can't remember the last time I've been so angry. Once the adrenaline wore off, I was exhausted. And it was only noon.

That morning I had packed all my gym stuff planning to work out on my way home. But when it came time to leave I was looking for any excuse not to go. I was pooped. So I made a bet with the elevator. If we stopped twice on the way down from the 11th floor then I would go to the gym. It didn't even stop once. It was a message from above. I totally played work-out hooky.

That evening I had a few phone calls to catch up on, one to my dad and one to a friend of a friend who works as a speech language pathologist in the area. I was so drained I could barely be sociable with my roommate, let alone try to make a good first impression with a stranger on the telephone. There was only one solution to my conundrum.

Yoga.

So I put on some Sigur Rós, plugged in the white Christmas lights strung across my ceiling and unrolled my mat. It had been weeks since I'd done any yoga, but it never fails to make me feel better. After an hour of zoning out, stretching and quietening my racing thoughts, I was good as new. I felt as physically different as you do walking out of the chiropractor's office. I was readjusted, realigned and back on track.

My conversation with the SLP went very well. So well in fact I will be shadowing her for a day in May. So exciting.