Unfinished business

Right next to the purveyor of the finest raw energy salad in all of Sumner is a hospice shop. A hospice shop with two convenient carparks, strictly for the use of bargain hunters only, right outside. The last three times I have needed a raw energy salad I have parked in one of the handy spots and begun a ridiculous charade. First, I pretend to browse in the hospice shop for that little something that might just be perfect for that little somewhere I might sometime get invited. I feel bad the whole time. And transparent. As if everyone in the shop knows I'm incorrectly parked and just pretending to be interested in the second hand clothes. So to prove my interest I select a garment and try it on before regretfully handing it to the tireless volunteers ('it's not quite what I'm after') and slinking out the front door. I have even pretended to walk towards my car and almost as if in the grip of an afterthought, have turned on my heels back to the cafe of my original intention. What's that all about?

I'm sure I'm not the only one who likes to be seen to do the right thing. Here's the paradox for the first time cancer patient working hard on preventing the return of the cells which won't die: worry too much about the details of life, the petty rules of social engagement and arbritrary measures of success and you'll get stressed - this is bad. Care not enough about the same things and life loses all meaning - this is bad.

I am a brilliant starter. If you want to get a project off the ground, energize the troops, share the vision, move mountains - I'm your girl. But if you're after someone who will grind out the details and drive hard towards completion...well......we can't be brilliant at everything can we?

I have a long list of unfinished business and I'm in two minds about how to approach it. Bin it and get on with life without the burden of living up to expectations I put on myself. Or, show some mettle and finish, which might just lift the burden and release cancer killing endorphins better than any drugs.

Consider the top 5 on my list and tell me what you think:

1. Thank you notes for our wedding gifts. Most are written, some are addressed, all are heartfelt. We have been married two years. Is it too late?

2. My masters degree. I read that universities are sheltered workshops for the abled. Nearly everything I have studied is useless in applicability to life. The research too narrow and guarded to have any general value and too laden in academic bullshit to be of any specific value. But I do rather like the cut and thrust of socratic debate. I'm about half way through.

3. Grade 8 piano. My fabulous piano teacher graciously allows me to attend each week in the Arts Centre - it's like Dead Poet's Society - without practising. No doubt it's therapy for me of the most beneficial kind but the need for an exam pass? In the interests of honest blogging you should know I currently play at about Grade 2 level.

4. Tidying my room. This is a carry over from when I was 13. Not likely to nail anytime soon.

5. My next bestseller. My first solo stage show. My broadway debut. My radio chat show. My run at the Mayoralty. Mrs New Zealand. The last one is a sure thing.

I am brave enough to attempt another letter to the editor and I'm going back to adult ballet classes now that the Arts Centre has been reinforced for earthquakes and other structure-stressing events like my spring-points and pas-de-chats.

Do you have unfinished business that needs pruning from the list or shall we go together to buy harden up pills? I hope they have parking right outside the door.