It's been more than a month now, and I have yet to get accustomed to the new situation, where there's a real possibility, I'll go degreeless (make that university-degreeless, for the professional job consultants I have seen on my ridiculously short bout of unemployment are quick to remind me of my "kandidatuur" - equivalent of bachelor's degree ((yes, I object to the word 'candidature', it's a silly, silly word and not in a good way)) ).
This possibility is, of course (no L, the single f is no typo), one of many. Other possibilities include: getting that damned degree in January, in which case I should hurry to start putting in the hours again going over my stuff (in my defence, it's not really procrastinating, this time around, as I just have so many things to do, and I barely manage as it is); become successful in other domains in life, and get awarded an honorary degree in due course *pictures self in robes and wings accompanied by the likes of (the future equivalents of) Kofi Annan and Brian May, and tries to keep her eyes in their sockets, as she proceeds to laugh her head off*; or, become successful in other domains in life, and be able to afford, in due course, a second chance as a student -probably a student of Latin philology, maybe Greek as well.
Actually, even back in the days of my full-fledged Germaanse mode (ok, Germanic is an acceptable word, but it 's a thoroughly Belgian/Flemish experience I'm referring to, so I insist: it's Germaanse - Maria, if you require a word of explanation... just say the word and long mails, electronic and paper, are headed your way), I seriously entertained the thought of returning to university in a couple of decades. You know, after some maturing and sufficient amounts of money-earning , definitive dropping of my ridiculous fear of failure (ah, the myriad faces of self-fulfilling prophecy) would have taken place.
This brings me to my point, projected in the title: I'm absolutely terrible at letting go of stuff. It's why I often succeed at rekindling friendships and other bonds of old; it's why I've lasted so long at university, despite the obvious trouble& anguish that caused me; it's why I keep hoping to become all things perfect in the eyes of mummy and Dimi, even though I don't agree with their perceptions of perfection, and they think I'm alright, anyway.
(Sigh) I just can't , can't can't let go of stuff. Flash forward to my death-bed, where all of my awfully polite & considerate (I am their grandmonther, after all) grandchildren are repressing their curses, and praying to the heavens above that I finally give up the fight and choke to death in my cough, or something, already.
Reminds of another Eels song off their 'Blinking lights and other revelation'.
Can't find it on youtube (shock! horror!), but the lyrics I keep thinking of, are:
My kind of love is an ugly love,
But it's real, and it lasts a long long time
I'm not quite in the dark place, evoked by the rest of the lyrics in the song, but I can relate to those two lines.
In my heart, it's clear: I don't need the Germaanse degree (If won't come to me, I don't want it anymore - gosh, Anna, you're so mature!) - but I'd have an easier time ... letting go, if there was but one person close to my heart, actually accepting my point of view - you know, and actually saying as much. (Actually, I have no trouble at all with my lovey D's uneasiness - obviously, he is entitled, because of his history as well as ours).
Then I go and think about the things I wrote on my birthday (about so many people in my life that I love - conversation with Freddie, remmeber?), and I realise, I'm making a big deal of things, that are absolutely not worth the effort.
Will she ever die, approval-seeking me?
We'll just have to wait and see :-)
Axxx
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The day at the office has come and gone, and I have thought about this message all day long.
Here's what I've come up with. It's not so much the approval of my friends I seek (not this time, anyway), but the appeasement of my bewilderment. You see, I have real difficulty grasping that people who have known me so well over the past few years, people who love me just as much as I love them, would actually want me to quit being happy and freed, so that I can acquire something that, for the life of me, I don't think I want or need, i.e. the master's degree. I'm honestly not afraid to venture into adulthood without that piece of paper. Time and again, I see that my sunny disposition, natural to me and now no longer strained by academic obligations/expectations, opens enough worthwhile doors in life, as it is.
Leasle, Sara, people who have not told me what they think for fear of bruising my ego or something; people who carry on about the shittiness of our society and the obligations that go with it for us, "survivors"... I am happy. At the risk of sounding awfully dramatic once again, how is it,that that is not enough?
Love,
Axxx
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