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2006-02-05 - 7:10 p.m.
Dorothy Gale's wearing a clown nose but it doesn't feel so funny anymore, no baby I've quit laughing and the dust is caught in a choke in my throat that you mistook for a sneeze when you asked me if I was happy. Truth is I would give anything for those ruby red slippers to whisk me away and back into his arms, Toto just isn't enough, that soft fur against my shins as I slip off to sleep doesn't compensate for the single indent in the pillow when I wake, for the lack of his smile and his sighs as he drifts off away from me into dreamings. Three clicks to take me back into the complicated reassurance of people I love to hate, the family that I chose before I was born and the one I chose after coming out of my mother's warm womb, slitheryscreaming into being. The fact is, dear, that I'm at a little bit of a mental standstill, a little bit of a headfuck, and I'm trying to decide whether a degree two years from now and a life in my chosen career is worth being away from family and friends now and settling for the career I had tucked away in my back pocket as Door ..2, thank you very much Mr. Robert Barker. I can hear the wizard laughing already, telling me I had it all along, silly grrrrl. Waitressing for two years, working in a kitchen for two more, and then opening my own vegetarian restaurant. Being with family and friends and people I love, now. Or. Working my ass off for my MFT. Spending ninety of the next 365 days with people I love. Living in a city without an Ashtanga studio, a decent Women's Resource Centre, and snow. Then working my ass off some more for the first 8 months I'm home to finish a thesis and two field placements for a degree that will have to be renamed for certification in Alberta anyway. But a graduate degree. Is it all just my stupid white-collar middle class values talking again? I thought I was grassroots but where the hell are my roots then?
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