So. This Should Be Fun.

Up until about a month ago I was taking sightseeing trips to the edge of the dark place. I hadn't been there for a while and, as recent history (the past few years) has proven, if I go there I tend not to be there for very long.

I remember talking to my Rx-adverse (not against, just adverse) therapist back in NY (I had two at different times over a decade, one who wanted me to do the "work" and one who was happy to write all kinds of prescriptions to make me feel better) and we'd been making good progress (doing the "work" while keeping up on a prescription or two).

"Pretty soon I'll be cured of all my neuroses," I said, more than half-way believing myself.

He just smiled and told me that wasn't the way it worked. "You never really get rid of them, you just get to know them better and not let them control you as much."

Part of me thought he was just being an asshole, trying to perpetuate the head-shrinking myth that you're never really done. Never. Never ever. And part of me reckoned that he made a lot of sense, after all, some of them are pretty much hard-wired in.

So anyway, back before our week in Spain (which really did do me a world of good), I was kind of in a "what's the point" mood and sort of wanted to just run away (but we don't run away anymore, we plan escapes) and do something really different. I was journaling something to that effect and answered myself (I have a lot of dialogues with myself in my journal ... they're fascinating in a pre-schizophrenic sort of way) something along the lines of "Helloooo, you're starting a Master's program in about six weeks, don't you think that is doing something really different?"

And I answered back sure I guess so but that's so far away and it just doesn't really seem real and I want something different now.

Because you know, immediate gratification takes waaaaay too long.

So here it is, more than six weeks later and I'm starting something that could be really big tomorrow. Doing something completely different.

I have no idea what to expect (which does wonders for that Virgo control thing), except that in the course of the next two years (if we are able to stay in London) I'll have written a novel, been exposed to all kinds of new writing, stretched my current limits of creative and critical thinking, and have come out the other end with new perspectives, new ideas, maybe some new friends, and an agent slash book contract jesus-allah-godesss-Fred knows what else.

And I reckon all those neuroses that I used to talk about to the shrinks (you know the ones: self-doubt, procrastination, unexplained euphoria, self-imposed blocks, overwhelm, underwhelm, self sabotage, and baby epiphanies that come from nowhere) will rear their muzzled heads. And who knows, maybe I'll meet some new ones!

But that's part of the fun, eh?

And so, tomorrow, we dive on in. I can't really tell, but I think the water will be fine. And, interestingly, I see no dark clouds on the horizon.

Yet.

What's the biggest cliff you've jumped off lately?

MA, creative writing, neurosis, cliff jumping