Lost...and found (Part 2)

I had left a voicemail message with the School's examinations coordinator but have yet to receive a reply. I understand that this is a very busy time for them so her lack of response isn't a surprise. However, I'm impatient so I cheated. :)

I called up the Canadian office that coordinates and administers dance examinations. There, I was fortunate enough to speak to a very lovely lady who not only answered all of my questions but also suggested how I could get around some administrative difficulties that I might encounter. Plus, she was very encouraging which was something I really needed to hear right about now.

Oh, and the verdict is in: older adults can and do take ballet examinations for grading and certification so the Dream is on! The exams are not invite-only per se but they might as well be; my ballet mistress has to judge that I'm a suitable candidate with the requisite level of skill to take the exam first and then she has to recommend me for the test itself. This means that I have to work - hard - to impress my ballet mistress and that's going to be tough. I just found out today that she's one of the top ballet instructors in Canada and has been practicing the art of ballet for longer than I've been alive. She was the prima ballerina for the Royal Winnipeg Ballet, holding that position for nearly a decade. In short, there is no chance I'll make it to the exams unless if I'm really good.

Colour me intimidated. :(

Plus, it's more difficult for us older folk as we're nowhere near as limber as younger folk. As I'm not planning to be a professional dancer, it's not an issue for me. I'm just looking for clear, definitive milestones on my progress as well as a structured education in classical ballet. It'll be nice if I get to perform on stage sometime but I'm not holding my breath. That, and I need to pass the exams first!

I'm excited and feeling tingly all over. This is the first time in decades where I'm doing something just for me that's motivated by fun instead of some serious reason or need. One of my friends think I'm nuts for doing this. It's going to be a long, gruelling road filled with pain, frustration, disappointment and probably a fair amount of tears. And I consider this fun? As a matter of fact, I do. I've come to accept the fact that I'm still very goal-driven and will probably always be so. I hesitate to claim that I'm an overachiever but success is definitely attractive to me. I'm used to success more often than not. I'm also used to a lot of pain and suffering as being the cost to achieve success.

I've had a chance to look through quite a few different forums and not surprisingly, most dancers who start when they're adults fail to go beyond recreational dancing. However, that's due to the fact that they never tried or gave up too soon. Of those who try, most of them fail to make the cut. I know that the odds are stacked against me; I can't let myself consider the possibility of failure because if I did, my resolve will crumble. Call it self-delusion if you will, but I intend to give this Dream a decent go at it, regardless of the odds.

There's a little voice in my head reminding me that I've never been good when it comes to physical matters, not where it counts. The last time I exerted myself in any serious physical activity was back in my university days when I fenced, which was nearly twenty years ago. Furthermore, my health is recovering from the complications of last year (good!) but I'm still fragile right now (not so good). I'm not motivated to take aerobics or other sports. Therefore, dance may just very well be my ticket back to good health once more.

I know here's a lot to do and many challenges to overcome. I've drawn up a practice plan for both my barre exercises and centrework. Practice started today. I'm still terrible at dance: I am the poster girl for proving that gravity works. But I will get better. I hope to someday be that graceful creature that I'm striving to become.

Lost...and found

Yesterday, I drove up to Edmonton and for my last visit with the medical case officer who has been in charge of the treatment for my Condition. It was a pleasant but emotional visit and at the end, he gave me a hug and wished me well. After three long years, my case is now administratively closed as I'm cured.

I felt very lost and alone. For all those years, I had at least one doctor watching out for my well-being. In fact, it ended up being a cadre of doctors who coordinated amongst themselves to ensure that I had the best treatment possible. I can't say that I wasn't frustrated or that I agreed with their treatment plan all the time but it was obviously the right one. Now, I'm done - the last medical link to the Condition is now gone. I'm officially cured. Wow.

Now what do I do?

The obvious answer is to live this life that I have worked so hard to claim. I'm very goal-driven though and now, I have no major life goals left as my last one was "Get Cured from Condition". It troubled me deeply on the drive home and I had to stop several times to regain my calm.

The ballet class did its magic and purged me of a lot of the more negative emotions like despair. When I finally got home, I was very depressed but my sister (bless her heart) sat down with me and tried to cheer me up. Long story short, I went to bed still feeling very lost and confused.

When I woke up this morning, I was still feeling lost and confused and it remained that way for most of the day. So I did what was familiar and took stock of where I was and the possible future paths that I could follow. It kept coming back to the same two possbilities over and over again: resume my M. Sc. program in astrophysics...or I could study ballet and see just how far I can go.

Taking astrophysics again was very tempting. I'm already well down that path and there's a possibility of employment in that field when I'm done. Very bad pay compared to what I'm doing now but at least it's a job. Plus, there's a certain sparkle, an almost deliciously intimidating je ne sais quoi to astrophysics because it's considered to be really hard. It's not, really. Lots of hard, boring work though. And I've learnt so much from my studies. I can definitively say that since I started my studies in this field, I have understood far more about everyday, applicable science than I have at any other time. The kids are indirectly benefiting from it as well as their aunt is now well-prepared to answer their questions about the world around them, no matter how zany the question may be.

I'm a very poor dancer and I have virtually no stamina. I'm uncoordinated, untrained and old enough to be the mother of most of the kids in my adult ballet class. Older adults aren't really welcome in the ballet world; the adult ballet class is the only class that is never put on stage by the School. We're not expected to ever be good enough to perform and I can see why. It'll never translate into a paying job, not for someone as old as I am. In short, this should remain a hobby and nothing more. I've got 10 months of ballet classes already paid for and I'll follow through with it.

Taking all those factors into account, I think that choice is pretty clear, don't you think?

Yes, I'm choosing the path that will allow me to learn ballet.

Why? Astrophysics is very cerebral and I will always take the opportunity to learn more about it. It's the "right" and "smart" choice. However, ballet is an exacting art that requires graceful coordination to do correctly, let alone well. I have never been graceful and may never ever be graceful. However, I won't know until I try.

Art and beauty trumps hard science any day for me now. I suspect that I may have fallen on my head sometime in the last dance practice.

I've left a voicemail with the examinations coordinator at the School. I know that there are adults taking the Cecchetti examinations but I have heard that the examinations are also invite-only. In other words, my ballet mistress has to be a certified Cecchetti instructor and she has to think that I'm proficient enough to take an exam. I'm hoping that the examinations coordinator isn't going to slam this door in my face by flatly denying adults, any adults from taking the exams.

Yes, grading and exams are important to me in this area. I wish to have proof that I'm doing well in it as opposed to it being "recreational". It may still end up being recreational...but I would like to see just how far I can push myself in this over the next few years.

No, I'm not lost anymore. Just insanely optimistic.

Cresting the wave

In a previous life, I would take out my Dobsonian every clear night to indulge in some stargazing. Oftentimes I would set her up in the verandah of our hacienda-style apartment in California and just watch the stars rise in the eastern sky, like the little bumps on a music box drum, each adding its song to the music of the heavens. Other times, I would take my 'scope out to the middle of the apartment courtyard where I had a 360 degree view of the sky.

I saw my very first deep sky object in that courtyard. I'd been hunting for it diligently for some time that night and kept missing it because I didn't recognize it amidst all the shining stars. I still remember the joy and wonderment of that moment even after so many years.

Then the sprinklers would come on. 2:03am every morning, +/- 2 minutes. It was a surprise the first time around but after that I would move my 'scope back to the verandah in good time before the deluge.

It's odd, remembering these moments of a past life. There was a time when I could only remember the bad parts because as we all know, successes are fleeting but failures are forever. I have many regrets about my past life and a lot of guilt associated with it, sometimes to unhealthy and debilitating levels. But since my Victoria trip, I've had more good memories than bad ones. I'm also regaining my ability to perceive probable futures and take action to nudge matters towards an acceptable end. It doesn't always work but I refuse to be a passive rider of the timestream that is our reality.

I'm also starting to have a passion for something: ballet. Yes, I've had other passions too, like science education and gourmet cooking. This is unusual in that this is first real passion of my new life that is strictly introverted - no one benefits from it other than me. This means that I'm either getting more selfish, or starting to take an interest in my own happiness. I hope it's the latter.

Perhaps my sis is right, that I'm finally healing. I hope so because being a basketcase is not fun at all.

Not many people are given a second chance. I'm blessed to have that and doubly blessed to have my sis and the kids still with me. I'm hoping not to mess this life up too.

Dancing at the Edge of Mediocrity

I had my second ballet class last night so predictably, I am in considerable pain today. I'm woefully out of shape. Usually, physical activity ends up with the net effect of relaxing me as I'm too tired to stress out on other things. This, unfortunately, is different. I'm deeply dissatisfied with my form and balance. This will require a lot of practice to correct. Time will tell as to whether I have the self-discipline to improve or if I will settle for mediocrity.

I am given to understand that this attention to detail and the perfectionism is not unusual among dancers and that I'm fitting rather well. To my amazement, I've found a pursuit where my perfectionist streak is not only the norm but practically required. Where precision and uniformity is part of the art.

I'm home, at long last! :)

Oh, and I learnt to polka last night. Looking in the mirror that spans the entire width of the room, we didn't look half bad as dancers go...until we started moving. But we did make a straight line at the beginning, for all of 10 seconds before it started turning Escheresque. Towards the end, we didn't resemble a ballet class as much as human dodgems.

I joined ballet because I wanted to move through space with the grace and poise that dancers have in their movements. Last night was the first time that I realized just how incredibly far I am from that goal. *sigh*

Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying the class considerably but it's making my joints pop in very new and probably bad ways. About 3/4 into the class yesterday I started feeling my heart skipping beats. Towards the end, I had difficulty maintaining my balance as we've been practicing for a solid 90 minutes, at a tempo not unlike vigorous aerobics. Yes, folks - my balletmistress doesn't kid around.

I'm loving it to death. Hopefully not literally.

Acceptance

I had a really good chat with my Mom tonight. Ever since I came to Canada, we've chatted at least once a month until my Dad passed on. It's been a little sporadic since then but we've done well in keeping in touch recently.

Looking at it from my mother's perspective, she's had a lot happening in her life over this past decade. All her kids got married. She had her first grandchildren. She saw her children divorcing, reconciling, parting ways and all the drama that comes standard with an extended family spread around the world. Then my Dad succumbed to cancer. Her house has been put up for sale, then not put up for sale and I'm not sure what the current status is anymore. About two years ago, she gets a phone call from me about my Condition. She took it well but it was obvious that it's so far beyond her realm of understanding that it'll take her a while to digest it.

I've been patient. I've been away for so long and changed so much that while I'm aware that I'm not who I was and my mother isn't who she was, I don't think it's really sunk in for her. Her last mental snapshot of who I was was over twenty years ago. I have seen my life changing as I moved from city to city, all the way up until now, helping raise the kids with my sister. Meanwhile, she's still in the same house that she's been living in for nearly forty years. It's hard to grasp change when you're anchored in familiarity.

I had a good time in Victoria recently and snapped quite a few photos. I've always been very camera-shy but never really figured out why until just a few years ago. Now that I'm happy with who I am, I don't mind photos at all. So when my brother asked for one of me, I looked through my Victoria photos and sent him one of the better shots. He's been trying to get that photo to my mother but haven't been able to travel much due to the H1N1 threat in that part of the world. However, he did manage to stop by my Mom's place and drop off the photo last week.

For the first time in many years, my Mom saw an up-to-date photo of me, of which there were precious few until now. I think it must have made real that which she had previously just heard of on the phone and from my brother.

Tonight, for the first time since I told her about my Condition and what the impact of the cure would be, she unequivocally and clearly accepted who I am now.

She told me she's proud of me for overcoming all the challenges, disadvantages and prejudice I've faced to become who I truly am. She's never said that, ever.

I think I'm going to enjoy this warm happy rare glow for a while.

Why?

As I've mentioned in a previous post, I've realized that I'm over-committed in the responsibilities I've taken on and will be discarding some of them in an attempt to achieve balance.

I don't believe in leaving any decent and friendly group without saying goodbye. In one of those groups, I was there for one last gathering with the understanding that I shan't be returning. I generally get along with most of the people there but have found one particular woman to be unpleasant. Let's call her Mrs. A. It's also obvious that I'm not the only one who feels that way. In that last gathering, she took numerous verbal shots at me. I don't think she disliked me or anything as it was normal behaviour for her. I didn't return fire but it did get me thinking: why are people unpleasant when there is no obvious good return for such action?

It's not just this Mrs. A either. I've found one of the office administrators at my new job to be officious and petty. I get that that's just how she is. However, she's certainly not making any friends in the office; her brown-nosing isn't going to get her very far when the current group of managers move on to other sites and the people she's cheesed off move up into positions of authority. I'd give her a couple of years, max, before she gets dismissed from her job.

Actually, I think I do understand the office admin a little more than Mrs. A. Some people are insecure or mean enough to sling their power around, such as it is. Heaven knows, I've done it when I was growing up - I was by no stretch of the imagination a compassionate prefect at my school. It didn't win me many friends but I learnt a lesson from that. It took me nearly a decade and a medical crisis to really learn it, but I did learn. This office admin however...is pretty much my age and acting like she's in high school. That part, I don't get. It definitely doesn't do anything for her survivability in this economy.

Mrs. A confounds me. There is zero percentage in cheesing me off. The smart thing to do is to be nice to people leaving, or at least to not be so rude to them. I get that this is what she is but surely she must see that she's offending people. On the other hand, Mr. A is her diametric opposite - he's one of the smarter, nicer people around. Even though he holds his own against Mrs. A, most of us feel sorry for him. If she and her husband split up, I daresay that she'll find herself quite alone very quickly. I'm pretty sure she knows that but she's still barreling down this self-destructive path.

When I'm doing something stupid, and I mean really stupid, there's a part of me screaming for me to stop and reassess. In the past, I've ignored that part of me and gone barreling down that self-destructive part too. Recently, I've started listening to that part and halted what I was doing. I'm not successful in doing that all of the time but I think I'm getting a little better at it. I can't think of how many familial arguments I've had where I've realized in the middle of it that I'm just being stupid in pushing it further. To the one person in particular that I've done this to most: please come see me for a heartfelt apology. I can be really mean and dumb sometimes and I'm sorry.

I grok my own personal "Why?" situation. I've got a ways to go yet. I'm sure that all these other folks do too - I hope that people aren't that tunnel-visioned and arrogant. As strange as it seems, I wish them well. Their path leads to loneliness and despair. I've been on that path; there but by the grace of the gods go I. Nobody deserves that fate.

Masochism

I never realized how good pain felt until tonight. I've known many things about myself but it's time to come clean: I am a masochist.

But only when I'm in ballet class.

Yes, folks - I've signed up for ten months of ballet. I don't think I really understood what that meant until now. I hurt all over. Literally. It even hurts to type. However, I know from past experience that this is nothing - the real pain will come tomorrow when I wake up. This will be going on for ten months. Every week.

But it feels so good!

Ow.

Ow.

Ow.

*big grin*

Through the veil, clearly

I had always been an inquisitive child, pondering Gedanken experiments as I lay in bed trying to fall asleep amidst the sound of the television in the next room. Perpetual motion machines, the variability of the speed of light, the heat-death of the universe, quantifying infinity - these were all things I had mulled over as a child, not that I truly understood many of the concepts and science involved.

I was an odd child.

One of the things I thought about was whether or not what we sense is really what other people sense. In other words, is what I call red really the same red that you see? Oh, I understand that 650 nanometres is 650 nanometres - I'm not disputing the wavelength of red light. What I'm referring to is not the physical aspect but rather the neurological interpretation of the natural world. What if what Marmite tastes like to me in my head is what you would interpret in your head as the taste of cream cheese? Would that make you understand better why I would like that particular sandwich spread? But we'll never know because each and everyone of us are prisoners trapped within our own minds - unless if we're telepathic, we won't really know what's happening in the other person's skull.

Switching topics briefly, I've been an avid reader all my life but up until recently, my reading material comprised astrophysics textbooks, technical journals, the D&D sourcebooks and the occasional novel or two. Recently, I've started reading romance novels again. The last time I read one was back in secondary school, whenever the occasional Mills and Boon showed up on the contraband items pile in the prefects' room. It was a welcome break from the tedium of schoolwork but I've never really felt anything. Actually, I've never felt anything from any book; I'd want to see how things developed but never truly identified with any of the characters in there.

Until now.

I'm not entirely sure what's causing this radical shift in perception but for the very first time, I can identify with some of the characters in certain novels. I suspect my current treatment plan and the medications that are causing neural remapping are the cause. I'm not complaining though.

Around the middle of last year, I was at a Barnes and Noble in the US with a friend as were attending a conference together. Now, you have to understand that B&N stocks a far more extensive range of books than the local chain bookstore, so I called my sis and asked her if she wished me to pick anything up for her. She rattled off a list of authors and I dutifully hunted for them. The only one I could find was a book by Jacqueline Carey. I picked it up only to find out that it's the 2nd book of the 2nd trilogy after I had returned home.

You have to understand that when I'm looking for something for someone, I'm quite tenacious in hunting it down. I eventually found the first book of the first trilogy and gave that to my sis.

She didn't read it. So I did.

I read for about a couple of chapters before I put it down. It was boring. Fast forward a few more months and I'm in the midst of bedrest following surgery. I was bored silly one day so I picked up the novel and started reading it from the start again.

This time, I was enraptured by it. I'm not sure what was different betweem the first and the second reading but I could relate to the heroine, so much so that for the first time in my life, I felt her emotions as the plot unfolded. It's the very first book that made me cry. It still does. Mind you, my body was undergoing some pretty massive changes as I was recovering from major surgery that permanently changed my endocrine system, so my guess that the neural remapping was to blame isn't entirely without merit.

Fast forward about a year later and I'm mentioning the latest book from the same author to a friend of mine, who snickered and said that I was the last person she'd imagine would like books "like that". I blinked. Yes, the novel was saucy...if you read it for that purpose. I started off with zero expectations and found the first series to be a delightfully touching love story with a surprisingly strong and resilient female lead who never lost her femininity even as history unfolded around her. Unfortunately, most people can't get past the sauciness and see the story that the author is attempting to convey. Ironically, in this series the more adult scenes were an integral part of the storyline as opposed to a titillation hook (the protagonist is a hetaera and her companion is a warrior priest sworn to celibacy). Disappointingly, I also appear to be the minority as practically everyone I've spoken to seems to be hung up of the notoriety of that series.

Coming full circle, no, I can't be sure that what I see as red is the same red as you see, or that what I taste is what you taste. However, in the case of the Kushiel's Legacy series, I can say with reasonable confidence that I'm feeling that which the author is trying to convey in her story.

We're still locked inside our own heads when it comes to our senses. However, we can still share emotions through something as simple as printed words.

And that makes the existence within our own little skulls a little less lonely, don't you think?

p.s. If you do read that series, for Pete's sake, try to read the story as a whole instead of getting stuck in the more steamier scenes. Trust me, the storyline is worth it.

Once more onto the breach...

Today I flew out to meet with one of my three surgeons who will be operating on me. I've been up since 4am and spent most of today on my feet. I'm dead tired but my insomnia preventing me from sleeping, as it normally does when I'm under high stress.

I've been compiling a list of questions to ask the doctor for several months now. It turns out that I did forget one mid-level question but it went quire smoothly otherwise.

We discussed my concerns then he did a medical exam to see what needed to be done. As it turns out, a fair bit will need to be improved upon. Fortunately, he's one of the top surgeons in North America. He charges quite a bit but you do indeed get what you pay for, which is going to take some fancy footwork on our part to stay on budget.

The thought of going under the knife again fills me dread; I've been very stressed out about this lately, as my sympathetic sister will attest to. This is one of three surgeries soon, all of which I'm stressed out about but for different reasons. For one thing, this operation is considered "elective" surgery.

Is this life-threatening? No. Can I live with it? Now, that question is one which I'd been pondering for nearly a year now and I think the answer is No.

For most of my life, I've been at a disadvantage compared to most other folks around me. I wasn't the firstborn in my family, which immediately relegated me as being as Spare, not the Heir. My birth country had some interesting laws, which puts those like me at a serious disadvantage when it came to commerce and finance - let's leave it at that. Coming to Canada, it took me ages to earn my citizenship so I was barred from quite a few opportunities. Suffice to say that had I been allowed the chance to pursue any one of those career choices, my life would be very different today. Then, there was my Condition. Now, that one was a doozy.

To a certain extent, I think that the disadvantages served to cheese me off enough that I put in a lot more effort than most others, partly to compense and partly because of my competitive streak. So, I'm not really whining here about my life but merely stating some known facts. However, my Condition wasn't something I can put any effort into - the only real choice I had was to seek treatment...or not. Both options carry different but significant costs. It wasn't something I could have done alone. If it hadn't been for the love and support of my family, I don't think I'd have come this far, or even be alive today.

Am I grateful that I what I have today? Let me see...I'm leading a normal life these days insomuch as someone with my background can consider as normal. I'm far happier, I've finally found that I fit society and I have a closer relationship with my family than I've ever had. So I should be fine now, yes?

Umm...not quite. Things still aren't quite right and I need to get it settled and closed. Do I need surgery for this? Yes. Mind you, if I hadn't had the wherewithal to save up enough to get it done, I'd probably have tried to fix things myself with a sterilized scalpel. In fact, it's a good thing I didn't as one of the things that was causing me pain was in fact a permanent suture from a previous surgery. What finally made me realize that this "elective" surgery wasn't exactly elective for me was the very fact that I had contemplated, more than once mind you, performing it myself.

That is most definitively not sane, which worries me significantly. So, I'm going to go through with this and the other two surgeries sometime in the next year or so. In the meantime, I'm going to do some deep soul searching to find out why this matters so much to me although I think I already know: those of you who know me well are also aware of my perfectionist streak which is probably why I'm feeling the way I'm feeling right now.

Rude Awakening

Have you ever had that moment of sudden clarity as you realized something basic and unpleasant about yourself for the first time? One in which you realize, aghast, that it's been going on for years?

I was getting ready to go to bed tonight and I usually take my medications just before I turn off the light. As I opened my pill case, it struck me that there's an awful lot of pills in there. Looking up, I saw perhaps with perfect clarity for the first time, that there's a small city of pill bottles towering over the usual mess on my study tabletop. My nasal spray stands out like the dorsal fin of an orca amongst the shorter bottles, distinctive yet slightly menacing. I've never been as creeped out by my meds as I was tonight.

On my bed to one side, there's a small family of plush animals and I realized that roughly half of them were gifted to me when I was on a hospital bed or trying to recover from surgery. Hanging like a necklace over my largest teddy bear was my chest sensor for my heart monitor.

Dear gods in heaven, have I really been that sick?

I think I'm getting healthier. I hope I'm getting healthier. I believe I'm happier when I came back from Victoria in June. I had some major issues resolved and for the first time since my last surgery, I could look forward with a lighter heart towards the future.

I've been on medications for a long time now and will be on some of them for the rest of my life as my body no longer produces certain things that keep me sane and alive. I'm hoping to be off one of my meds come spring of next year. My nasal spray...will probably require more tests before I can come off it. As for the rest, I guess I'm stuck with them forever.

The irony of it all was that two years ago, I had to fight to even have these medications prescribed to me. I remember this one very low point in my life when I despaired of ever receiving the medical care and treatment I needed for my Condition. As I look at those three round pills in my pill case, one set per day, I realize that I'm actually quite fortunate to be receiving the medical care that I have right now. I'm also uncomfortably aware that I'd better have a good prescription plan for the rest of my life.

I hope to be able to see the kids happily marry and have children of their own. Continuity of the family is something very important to me. However, I realize that I had to take better care of myself if I would like to have a chance of seeing that day.

Gods, I feel old.