By Leanne Spencer

Internal interlude

I’m trying to remember the crumbs that brought me here. I’m trying to hold steady to the notion that SCA, in all its triumphs and tribulations, remains for me a pit stop, rather than a destination. It’s the interlude in your favourite song where the artist jumps out of their comfort zone.

I’m trying to find the right balance, between explaining my reality and letting things go because there are only so many hours in the day, and my dear I have things to do.

I’m trying to understand the civility that must come with changing the world around you.

It’s hard.

But there are beats to this interlude.
There are levels to this game.

I’m hoping that I am not the one playing myself. I hope that this sideroad I have forged leads me close-ish to my goal. At the very least, I hope it doesn’t lead to some Wile E Coyote-style cliff.

I’m enjoying meeting people. I am a soul who loves to laugh and I find it is easiest done in groups. There is a part of me that wishes I was a more active presence in the sprouting social culture that is this year’s cohort. However, there is a much more dominant part of me that knows I need to catch up on some sleep and call my girlfriend.

In my love of all things didactic, I have passed through my fair share of schools. I know that a class culture is something entirely unique, and yet wholly temporary. In a lot of ways, the latter is what makes it special. But surely after all these years of faithful service to my discipline and craft, I deserve to decide now what I need to move forward?

It is the trick of education.

It is the promise of unbridled learning, in exchange for the remastering rights to your mind.
It’s not what you think, it’s how you think.
I don’t think I’m willing to hand that over.

It wasn’t so bad when I was a child. When my mind contained nothing but colours and shapes, I was far more lenient with whom I allowed to mould it to their will.

This is a whole different song.

I’m older now and my brain is a cultivated concept, cemented in my beliefs and joy. I am a person, already. I have my mother’s stamp of approval and everything! I’m ready to take on the world, baby!

But now they’re telling me there’s still a step missing. One last round of class and I can stop treading water. They pinky promised.
So I’m trying to keep my head down, but not so far down they think I’ve stopped listening.
And I’m trying to have open conversations, but not when I’m in a closed mood.
I’m trying to respect my own boundaries, and apologise if I fumble beyond someone else’s.

No rotten fruit has been flung at me thus far, so, I can’t be doing too badly.

“Siri, play Tay Iwar – Space”