notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 6.

guys.
february has flown by.
literally.
flown.

and. you know what?
it's been quite a good month.
a good one, indeed.

do i sound a little bipolar after my last edition of gradnotes?
grad school is my eternal scapegoat for lack of sanity.
and it's been quite an extreme turn around.
take that for what you will or for what it's worth.

i have five trillion things i need to make time to write about in some place or another,
but for now i'm sticking with my aim for having a regular journal of grad school as it goes.
this small portion of life (that most days feels so long), is a pivotal, soul-stretching, soul-enlarging time.
and i want record of that journey.
a qualitative and subjective record of the progress,
separate entirely from any objective measures. (read: gradesandevaluationsgalore.)

guess what?
i see real progress in my clients.
my sessions are going so well.
(almost too well, quite frankly.)
good rapport has been built.
and i've found a groove.
a groove inside the uncertainty.
certainty inside the uncertainty of all that i still don't know.
i'm learning.

with one of my clients, the real secret to planning is not planning too much in advance.
because only a minor portion would ever go as planned anyways.
everything relies upon being in the moment and thinking on my feet.
perfect presentness.
because it doesn't matter so much what the activity or materials are.
it matters what you do with them.
i'm learning.
things hardly ever go the way i plan with my other client either,
even when that plan is loose and tentative from the start.
(six-year-olds, amiright?)
and yet, it still all works out.
i'm learning.

lately, i keep feeling like i'm on the downhill slide, especially after this semester is over.
that the end and the real world are not so far away.
i mean. next year and graduation still feels a million miles away,
but i'm taking that as improvement from being entire light years away, as they once felt.

during class tonight, i was thinking about how different my position is now from where it was at the start.
i was thinking about the nearly-nervous-breakdown that was had in january.
i mean, was it really that big of a deal?
what the capital-h-heck was wrong with me?
why did i have such a profound career/life crisis at that time?
i mean, i know.
kind of.
but.

honestly?



i still don't know.


i wish i could tell you what it was that changed.
i wish i knew.
a lot of things together, i guess.
when it comes down to it, though, i simply know that a change has taken place.
slowly, almost imperceptibly.
oh, the changes that have come.
slowly, almost imperceptibly, as one day stretches into another.
only in quiet moments do i look up for a moment and see just how this experience is evolving.

because.
despite being buried in somanythingstodoandreportstowrite,
and drained with an exhaustion that sinks deep into my soul,
it's a good kind of drained, you know?
a drained that comes from giving your heart and soul to worthwhile causes.
now i am tired, but resolute. (firstaidkit.)
because the general trajectory is a good one.
a really really good one.

in our voice disorders class last week,
we watched several videos of psychosocial interviews.
and. well.
they gave me incredibly heavy boots.
psychosomatic responses.
the way humans react to circumstances, sometimes without realizing it.
it's amazing, really--isn't it?

i often considered going into counseling.
in fact, just before receiving my first grad school acceptance,
it became my plan b--just in case i didn't get in to grad school.
i was worried i wouldn't, worried i'd be left a fool.
and so, at long last, on a simple saturday, i found my plan b.

well, we know how this story ends.
i got into grad school(s).
and am now on this pathway.
to stay--for now, anyway.
but sometimes i wonder.
because i ever so love to dig into people's souls.
to peak inside and help them see.
i don't anymore--not often, anyway.
but these videos we watched--
they reminded me why i don't think i could ever go into counseling--not professionally, anyway.
because i'd take too much into my soul,
and there it would be too heavy for me.
ergo, here we are in another branch of humanity.
they all build on one another, you know.
all these related fields.
and so here i am, in the world of speech and language--
where communication reigns.

i'm self-conscious about my writing lately.
i feel i've lost my touch, insight, or wisdom.

but i just wanted to say--
here i am.
marching on.
we are okay, we are alright. (joshuaradin.)
okay.
and so we're marching on.
okay?
okay.

i'm here.

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 5.

i don't write anymore.
not much, anyway.
why is that?

january has been the first month of grad school in which i haven't made any note at all.
there's significance in that.
in the fact that i was barely surviving--barely breathing, even.
because january was a real doozy.
and i've never been so glad to see her go and hope she takes the wintertime with her.

i spent a lot of time doing things like cutting out laminated visual aids,
coloring said aids,
making others help me color said aids.
sometimes i feel like the core of what i'm doing has very little to do with speech itself at all,
but learning how to make things into games instead.
learning how to motivate and engage children.
#lifeskillz

i began the semester in a sickly state and a fuzzy head that took a couple weeks to go away.
that never helps anything, does it?
and if january were summed in one word, it would be this:
h a z e.

most would never know how fiercely i considered dropping out.
most would never know how deeply my soul has been striving to find peace.
most would never know how frequently i struggled to complete even the bare minimum.
most would never know how ardently i wished i could be anywhere but here.
but i'm still here.

there's this plant my mom bought for me right around the new year.
it came as a bulb with just a few leaves shooting out.
for awhile, we thought it was dead.
perhaps i'd underwatered it or left it neglected and too far from the light.
i gave her some water, though.
and the most curious thing happened--
she began to grow.
slowly, of course.
those leaves started getting just a little bit taller, until their tips started peeking out of the vase.
every few days, she became parched again,
so i'd drop in the remnants of the day from my water bottle before moving quickly on.
(because january was busy with a capital b, in more ways than one.)
and those stalks kept rising with a bulge at the tip.
last week, that bulge started parting.
yesterday, those bulges began to bloom.
just one and a half at first.
now, though.
now there's two full flowers, two still opening, and two buds waiting to spread their petaled wings.
you're much more patient with them than i am.
i already thought they were dead, and probably would have thrown them out.
that's what my mom said when the stalks started sprouting up.
they just needed a little love, is all.
some water and some light.
that's what i said, you see.

i'd like to think that this is how i am with people, too.
that i'm patient and good at helping them find nourishing water and light.
i was once, anyway.

a little in romania, and in ukraine, especially.
i had healing hands.
but sometimes i think i've lost those hands.

when you look at me, what do you see?
do you see--a sparkle?
like something reflective of something bigger that's trying to get out?
(mr. magorium's wonder emporium.)

i've been thinking a lot about romania lately.
especially about a dream i had while there.
this small little piece of something that showed me i care for this.
a little moment that sank into my bones to say,
communication matters.
it was a dream about one of my little boys, though was applicable to any of them.
because it really does matter.
it really will go somewhere.
and perhaps, for me, more important than that right now is this:
knowing that i belong here,
even when i'm not so sure.

sometimes i wonder if the only reason i stay is that i have nowhere else to go.

and last week. my mom brought home a new orchid for me.
because maybe i just need some water and some light, you know?
january is over now, and a month centered around love replaced her.
at a time when i think most are beginning to fall, i've already passed the hardest part.
(or so i hope.)
after such a steep learning curve, i'm getting my footing.
i'm learning life lessons, both personal and academic.
(and i'm learning just how inadequate i am and how much i don't know.)

perhaps it's not about being adequate.
it's about being flexible and willing to learn,
allowing all people and aspects of life to teach me.

to steal the words of cj cregg,
the water's still exactly at my head, of course.
but perhaps i've been trying too hard to forget this one seemingly obvious fact:
we need the water and the light.

in the water--that's when my sprouts arose.
light alone is not enough for cultivating life and growth, you see?

even on days it feels more like drowning--
the light to breathe, and the water to nourish.
this is how we grow.

(does this mean it can be springtime now?
i do fiercely long for the spring.)