Yesterday I relaxed. Spent time with friends. Walked in the woods. Ate good food. Saw a decidedly unedifying movie. Stayed up too late. Have been considering when to post about Alec – my experience of hearing the news, the moments that bit the worst . . . etc.
It is beautiful late summer/early fall: shorts-weather yet the trees begin to burst with color.
Popularity: 1% [?]
“We’ll pass Steph eventually,” they joked about my comps defense, after grilling me for two hours and deciding I needed to clarify a few things. “I want to pound this point in,” says one of my esteemed professors. “Not to pile things on,” says another. Yeah, right! My chair tried to make me feel better: “People take comps at all levels in this department. The questions you’ve taken on are humongous.” There was a sidebar at one point, about how I tend to experiment in real life…
I still make too many assumptions about shared understanding that makes the reader have to work too hard. This is part of what invites so much interrogation. The interrogation itself isn’t bad, although it is hard! Being questioned so intensively feels hard but it is “the ideas that fight,” as my favorite antagonist clarified when I said, “You know I like fighting with you.” (This, after kicking me a few times.)
Some would argue that it is not politic to experiment with comps. The stakes are rather high, eh? Yet, while we were there, I was aware that I’ll never have such an opportunity again: three brilliant minds focused exclusively on whether or not I know what the hell I’m talking about and guiding me through weaknesses, confusions, and potential pitfalls. They push hard because I reach far.
Popularity: 1% [?]
Danah Zohar, The Quantum Self (1990:34)
Popularity: 1% [?]
Popularity: 1% [?]
Popularity: 1% [?]
Popularity: 1% [?]
The Graduate Student Grant Service assists with certain grant applications, and the Office of National Scholarship Advisement assists with others, including:
Popularity: 1% [?]
43-going-on-17-year-old troublemaker. Interrupter of war; disturber of peace. Loves getting in relational grooves of all kinds, hates leaving them. Questions everything. Mellows quickly if directly addressed. Prefers outdoors to the urban but can be comfortable anywhere. Has become notably quieter in the past two years (still becomes loud when excited). Loves children and cats (dogs tolerable). Cares about just about everything.
Popularity: 1% [?]
Upon seeing the intuitive acupuncturist it fully hit me: “I’ve been on a long journey.” If I’d been able to cut through the fog of jetlag and overcaffeination, I would have told her I felt stronger. Instead, I fumbled through a brief summary and asked, “How am I?” “Don’t give me that crap!” she promptly admonished me. “You know I just reflect back to you what your body already knows.” “Yeah, well, I want the confirmation.” 
She checked my pulse. “Your life purpose is clearer! Congratulations!” [I can't describe it very clearly, but it is true I do sense this, somehow, inside myself.]
[Context note: as I am composing Puru is reading the Ramayana outloud for a handful of Indians who keep cracking up with laughter. I surmise it has something to do with Ganesh Chaturthi but the timing may in fact be merely coincidental.]
[[This is almost as good as the Bush and Schwarzenegger clips being played last night while I was writing the first draft of my "Self in Contradiction" homework. "Gobble gobble."]]
“You need nurturance, of all kinds,” the IA continued. “Especially food.” “Really? I thought I might be overeating…” “I don’t think so. Good wholesome food. Do you have a way to get that?” Yeah. The best Indian food in the area.
She poked two needles into my lower right leg, one toward the inside of my foot nearer to my big toe, and the other most of the way up my shin. “I love working on you! Two needles and your body soaks it up!” I guess this is a good thing…
She leaves me to the treatment. My mind drifts. Life purpose. Dozing . . . memories . . . events from Istanbul . . . tasks in progress . . . things to do . . . what’s upcoming . . . so much for drifting. Alert now, I observe my mind continue to float from task to memory to project, emotions wafting among peace, sorrow, hope, anxiety…
The IA returns; I’ve shifted around, hands crossed over my forehead. “You’re cogitating.” “I just started, I was drifting before.” We discuss the drift for a bit. She announces me done for the day. I ask about the work of the needles. “Nurturance,” she replies. “You’re having a hard time coming home.”
sigh
Puru’s voice pierces my attention, reading aloud: “To lose heart is to lose everything.” I like that! Turns out its monkeys talking to each other about courage.
Popularity: 1% [?]
