in which I cheat and blog a bit of a letter home (or: creativity is for those with better sleep hygeine)

The hell if I know what I’m doing, most days.

They chose the right person for the job, I guess, because I’ll do the right thing- I do the right thing- despite threats, because I’d rather get sent home and know I did right than roll over and present my belly and stay here without a spine or any self- respect. And that’s great; bully for being brave, or more accurately: too stupid and stubborn to save my own skin.

Perversely enough, I still enjoy parts of this- guess you never get out of the habit of self- abuse, eh? I love the constant creativity involved, in never being really able to say, "That can’t be done," but rather, always, "There’s a way, I just need to find it." Amazingly enough there always is some thing, some way to get the result I’m trying to get at, although some days it takes rather extreme amounts of mental energy to find it. I love the neverending stream of issues that need resolution, attention, juggling. I love the fine balance required, as well as flexing my optimism muscles; some days all I have is to keep reminding myself that this too shall pass, and that it can be managed, and that in the end it will be fine. So far I haven’t been wrong. I even love the ethical/ moral quandries, not for themselves- actually, the being in them part is pretty damn awful- but for the opportunities it gives me to find out who I am and what I’m about, where my lines are and how willing I am to hold them. I have no idea how this experience will affect who I am in what I think of as my real life, but I am so eager to find out.

Tonight, though, I am overwhelmed and under- able to express myself; tonight, I’d kill for my house, my husband, a Guinness, a finger of fine scotch and a piece of chocolate cake. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up obscenely early to go on a 6 mile walk with Billy and Jason (no joke, that’s really what’s scheduled for tomorrow: 6 miles of walking at 0530, and why did we ever agree to that again????) and I’ll feel better, smarter, stronger, and possibly even find myself that piece of cake, or at least, a damned cookie.

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