Personally Yours

This is a 'personally yours' entry. That meaning that it will be a rare moment where I will try to be as open and honest as I possibly can. That also means, however, that I might be random. And vulnerable. This is me, playing with words.

The past few days have been pretty emotional. Not in the dramatic-rollercoaster kind of way. Rather, I've had moments of real nostalgia where I have sat for moments at a time, early in morning, thinking about all the places I have been on this campus, places where I have sat, had conversations, met people, gone to class. And thinking about all of this only makes me teary. Like most Thursday mornings, I got to school today about half an hour before class started. The tables are almost always sparsely populated during that time of day and so I almost always get that table by the window. It's not always clean but at least there's sunlight. I have a thing for filtered sunlight and - as most people who have been in my car would know - cool fresh air ;)

I think what I will miss most are those 'eureka moments' in both my classes and professors' offices. At the moment, I will miss my performance professor the most just because she is so cool and so amazingly beautiful, smart, kind, respectful and encouraging. I will miss my Cambridge professor (that's what I call him) and his utter quirkiness and those o-so-big giorgio armani glasses. I will miss his ethical stance on nearly everything and his desire to spill red ink over any paper despite the grade. They have both touched my life in ways they cannot imagine.

And what about my supervior? A man whom I love to hate and also whom I hate to love. What about his utter disposition to be ridiculed and loathed? For everything that I have gone through with this man, I will only say that I respect him and ascribed many lessons learned to his credit. I refuse to burn any bridges.

At this moment I am tearing up like mad inside and wishing so much to relive each moment in my performance seminar class. But as theorist Peggy Phalen would caution, "Performance's only life is in the present." That is the ontology of performance.

On the flip side of the emotional coin has been an utter repression of any emotions whatsoever. I was so stressed on Monday that I actually felt physically ill. This week has been both the longest and shortest week in my entire undergraduate career. It has been filled with house gatherings, wine, readings, good-byes, last classes and so many of those "lump-in-your throat" moments. This week, I was allowed a glance into the personal life of my seminar professor. My classmates and I had a lot of fun at her place.

So with approximately 60 pages still to write (in total I mean), I really do feel like this is the end. It's so weird isn't it? What happens next? When will I see these people next? Will I feel the same ten years from now?

I guess all I can do is remember and in remembering, always be thankful for such an experience, for such encouragements and such almost-scaths. The ride has been amazing and this nostalgia - quickly coming to an end as I prepare for bed - only has its life in the present. The performance of this nostalgia comes to an end. Good night Calgary.