Bloody week: Bloody happy

I was still upset as the week starts.


Yet, some supreme force already had it all panned out two weeks in advance for my session with my therapist happened to be on Monday afternoon.

So I bitched about things only to realize that it is the multiple presentations of the same principle… or issues might be a term more appropriate for it.

It is the same issue that has been driving me crazy, literally, for the past few years.

It is what caused my relapse last year before I even had a chance for my symptoms to go on full remission.

It is what put me through all these hassles of working part time while waiting for that full time position to emerge.

That bloody immigration thing it is.

So, I walked out happy and all happy because I have pinned point the core of the problem while the solution is yet to be sought.

It has nothing to do with the grant.

It has nothing to do with the resume.

It also has nothing to do with my working over time on a part time position.

At the same time, it has everything to do with everything.

If you gotta blame it on someone, blame it on the institutions that set up the policies, blame it on the rain that causes the flood and, most important of all, blame it on the situation.

I often wonder whether I am actually the one to be blame for it is me who decide to continue dealing with the same issue while all issues would be annulled shall I simply return home.

Concurring such a thought originating from the theory of internal locus of control, my therapist’s voice often pops up, warning me the danger of asserting too much control within myself while some issues are actually out of my jurisdiction. (Apparently, I am pretty well trained by my therapist and psychiatrist. lol)

All pronounced nullified.

I look inside myself-- free of responsibility and free of obligations-- in response to institutional policies et al.

What is left to be sought?

I was and I still am all happy.

What is to be sought is from within and from the construction of oneself.

So I went back to work, exhaled.

I continued with my readings and writing.

And, I continued living without a sense of gravity.

I was and I still am down to earth.

I felt and I still feel the sense of motivation.

Ayn Rand is right.

The worse crime there could be is to give up the sense of self for, when all is nullified, there is only the self that could propel the drive to move.

So, I decide to be, nothing more than selfish.

To hell with the institutions for I will continue to live till I stop kicking (:-x).

The continuing efforts on getting quality work done and meeting the grant deadline? Value added.