6.30.2010

drop it like it's hot

after a long hiatus, i'm back to write.

yesterday i sent off my application to JFK University.  as usual, a pattern of self-sabotage led me to save plenty of work until the very last minute; i feverishly finished typing both my artist statement AND my personal statement, burned 14 images of my artwork onto a CD, printed everything out (double copies) stuffed them into an envelope...only to arrive at the post office and have to open it back up and put in in the FedEx envelope.  $18.13 later, i find out it won't arrive in Pleasant Hill until Thursday, July 1.  the deadline is today.  le sigh.

i suppose if it is meant to be, JFK will still accept it.  what more can i do?  if i am not accepted, i will take it to mean i need to spend the next few months looking at the origins of my resistance to deadlines.  it's a disease i've had for a long time, probably having something to do with feeling unworthy.

i'm exhausted and feeling a bit numb.  anxious to know whether or not my plans for the future will be realized, or if i'll have to revamp.  either way, i'll be moving myself and my meager collection of personal belongings up to beautiful San Leandro.  it's bittersweet, exciting, terrifying.  where will i work?  what will become of the man i'm dating?  (avoidance of the whole issue seems to be the name of the game.)  why is it that now, as i teach my last classes at the yoga center, am i receiving the best feedback of my short career?

the lesson here appears to be How To Let Go.  it's not an easy one for me--or for anyone.  i like to hang onto the good stuff, the pleasant, the fun.  i even like to hang onto the not-so-pleasant stuff, i guess because it's familiar, or i feel like i have no other options.  what would happen if i could remain unattached to the outcomes?  how can i develop intimacy with people but know when i need to move on from the relationship?  i don't think there is any clear answer except: listen to my heart.  i hope i can recognize what it sounds like when it speaks.

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