“Anyway, I keep picturing all these little kids playing some game in this big field of rye and all. Thousands of little kids, and nobody’s around – nobody big, I mean – except me. And I’m standing on the edge of some crazy cliff. What I have to do, I have to catch everybody if they start to go over the cliff – I mean if they’re running and they don’t look where they’re going I have to come out from somewhere and catch them. That’s all I do all day. I’d just be the catcher in the rye and all. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the only thing I’d really like to be.”
~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye, Chapter 22, spoken by the character Holden Caulfield
It’s Sunday evening, the strangest time of the whole week. I’ve been studying anatomy, physiology, and kinesiology all day; and now my head spins from all the attempts at memorizing. This time around, I’m using flashcards.
I’m excited about taking the national exam for massage therapy, (again), because it will be nice to get it over with. I’m doing it for me, and also for Liz, because she kept telling me to finish.
When I decided to become a massage therapist, I made a vow to stop being an unpaid social worker. I.e., no more dating men with issues. Issues meaning emotional unavailability, trouble with the law, broke financial troubles, and obvious mental problems. I was a true loser magnet. Now I do my nurturing thing with clients, and not potential mates.
It is going great.