Transitions

“I hate transitions.” I write with a red pen on my legal pad. I’m supposed to be using that pen to edit the latest version of this Strategic Document before emailing it to me supervisor for feedback, but instead I’m using it to silently vent on this piece of paper.

My bad writing habits haven’t gone away. I cringe as I think of Larry’s comment, “Need a transition here.” on draft after draft of my thesis. Sometimes he just resorted to writing the transition sentences for me. As I read the paper in front of me I see that it is starting to shape up, but I need to write a few sentences that connect the paragraphs to each other.

In college one of my favorite writing teachers had us rush write three separate pieces in class. (Rush write means you write whatever is on your mind as fast as you can, not worrying about grammar, punctuation, flow. The point is to just get ideas down on paper and fast.) Our assignment that night was to write a few sentences to connect those three rush writes. The connecting sentences were to be bolded while the rush writes were to remain unedited and in normal text. The next class period he made us read each others' transitions. Some were brilliant, mine were mediocre. He said that it is in the transitions our most creative writing happens.

Is it the same with life—is it in our transitions our most creative living happens? I feel like I’ve been living in transition for the last few months: waiting to finish the last of my thesis and graduate, attending one random month of yoga teacher training, and now living as a hobo in other people’s homes while I job search. I re-read that sentence, “I hate transitions.” I feel that so deeply. At first graduation felt a little scary, the unknown future exciting, my yoga training intriguing, and this move to DC adventurous. Now it all feels stressful. In the last few months I haven’t been able to put on the autopilot. Frankly, it’s been exhausting.

It’s like when you first start dating someone you really like. There is that in-between stage when he’s more than a friend, but not your boyfriend. My married friends talk about how fun that stage is. I think they have completely forgot what it’s like to actually date (or what it’s like to be going to bed alone for that matter). It’s terrible. Sure, holding hands for the first time can be exhilarating and that first kiss delightful. But the chances for you to transition into a dating relationship is about as good as your chances to become an unused phone number in his contacts list. If this is the best part of any given relationship, then I’d prefer to stay single. Maybe I’ll just run off and spend the rest of my life single in some yoga ashram in India.

I’m told I’m supposed to enjoy the journey, but there comes a time in any journey when—after all those hours on a plane—you just want to arrive. Right?

I do hate transitions. They’re uncomfortable and apparently I was never very good at them. I'd rather be here or there, not somewhere between here and there.