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The staging area

Post bar-August is a month of reclamation.   Thankfully, my sleep patterns have broken down into stretches and excess. Life is larger. The hours left to me are an unusual acquaintance in the absence of drills and testing.  It is a time of adjustment, opposite in every way to the period that preceded it.  This summer saw a lapse in my social skills, with casulties made of friends and social engagements. Thirty days left to regain momentum, and retool in the face of  a changing identity.

I slept to make the most of the first few days.  The grinding time is haulted and now, I am post doc, pre- position in the midst of  time,  redefining  my tastes and pleasures with new sensibilities.  I am sharpened, by hours of training–stripped,  redressed, and finished.  The new neurotics have made me a stranger to the person whom started this journey.  I field questions about my plans with a defensive blush,  arms up to the expectations, arms out to the oncoming future.

The in between is a time for homeless spirits, looking for new digs.  Comfort comes from my classmates scattered among the states, united by internet space and digits.  They know this place because they grope it with their own hands. We face the same forces, in an identical context with the self same ghosts.  Alumni, as sages do, forecast and encourage to elasticize our guts.  Strength comes from evidence of past success and reliance on new tackle. I  cope and keep hope,  as one of two hundred, and prepare for the launch into infinity.



One Comment

  1. Posted September 1, 2009 at 8:18 pm | Permalink

    you should have been a writer…
    very good stuff. it really is. I just finished my first week and I feel the space between where you’re at and I’m at is a starfield apart. only three years…how to internalize that, i have no idea.

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