A
conditional offer, take an oral proficiency exam and submit the results by the
twenty-fourth of June. Ha ha. I took two years of Spanish but I can’t speak
it. I lived around Mexico for a year or
so but I couldn’t speak fluently then.
It would take an enormous effort to prepare for an oral proficiency
exam. Am I up for it? I feel lazy, I feel I should keep looking,
looking for something easy? No, looking
for a great desire. Once again,
uncertainty, insecurity maybe, no direction is leaving me bounce from one idea
to another. It is discouraging, very
much so. And it leaves a big question on
this Wednesday evening, the gifts, photography mainly, is something you can’t
motivate yourself to do something with other than posting on social media. I
don’t understand.
4.16.15
Two Chennain
colleagues took me and our resident priest in limbo to Sagar’s for a south
Indian meal and what a meal it was, seven dishes with plenty of rice and
chappati’s, oh I hurt, why isn’t there enough room when I rarely eat this much
in one sitting I don’t understand.
Eighty seven
days to go and one is playing pool here but one doesn’t know the next shot so
he chalks his tip, powders his hands and lines up. There must be a deadline when I will need to
decide if I return straight to the states or if uncertainty trumps the day, fly
to KC Leuven. An open door admission
invites, bring all your papers, settle in the burbs for a month and make a go
of it, if you don’t get in continue west.
I like this, for now.
A post
mid-term gathering is planned for 23 April at our resident priest in limbo’s
home and he was surprised to know it’s also St. Georges Day on the Catholic
calendar, a day I reluctantly admitted was an anniversary I’m trying to
forget. ‘we should have a séance’ I don’t think so, padre, lots of questions
remain six years later and I’d rather not invite a band of mischievous spirits
to confuse and befuddle. Nevertheless I
am open to learning and understanding and I would like direction because I am
all over the map what the hell is new you say.
Next week is
the mid-term, week eight, I informed my students, and we are half way Praise
all good things come to an end. Yesterday
I told the resident priest in limbo, that…wait, can we give this someone a
name, a name to protect and respect his anonymity because as you know I don’t
write about people I work with unless there is one who crosses my path in an
ungodly way, phonetically pronounced here, let’s call him ‘Girgis’. Well I told Girgis I suffer from no direction
and yet at times deep down I feel everything is going to be fine in the
end. “Then why worry, everything is
going to be fine in the end.” Yes, I should be reassured and that is probably
the reason I get through the day. But ‘Girgis,
it’s between the moments before the end that make me sick with worry.’
Tell me
what’s on the table now, what’s going on.
Ok, in a nutshell, Kandahar wants someone in June, they will contact me
if by their deadline they haven’t found someone and perhaps they will offer
something. Second, I mentioned in the
first paragraph here, I need to take an oral proficiency exam in Spanish for a
post offered in …..saying here will jinx me so I won’t. Thirdly, the school in Salalah hasn’t
contacted me though they continue to post openings online. Look, if they’re going to wait until the
first week in July that will be too late to gather papers they want, so I don’t
know about them. There are other jobs I’ve
seen in the states and elsewhere but I’ve stalled with all of them. And then there is KC Leuven, one year to
publish a goal, a dream, call me heretic, no.
And of
course you’re open to whatever else comes your way, right? Anatomy of Restlessness, a book by Bruce
Chatwin, comes to mind. Yeah, whatever
comes to mind in the next eighty seven days.
I need to establish some deadlines here, but not tonight, chicken tikka,
fried dal and who else are calling me to sleep.
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