part of a poem and random

I've had this running through my mind for the last few days.  It's part of a larger poem, but only this specific part has been relevant:

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story. 

-Max Ehrmann

Now that I have an interview (a way out of my current circumstance), my tolerance for people has hit a new low.  Obviously.

It isn't that the prospects are so wonderful to me. It's just another way out.  Which takes me back to where I was almost 4 years ago--simply looking for a way out with no real plan, no real passion.  I wrote this somewhere else while lamenting about my predicament:

There is simply no way to roll together: medical investigator, working at the CDC, community-based nursing with an emphasis on communicable disease, working in 3rd world countries, working with the under-served, neurological research, bread baker, photographer, chicken momma, farmer, bee keeper, viral biologist, student, sheep herder, pathologist, and small store owner  all into one job. There just isn't. 

And this is what it all boils down to.  I want to many things but none of them with a burning enough passion that it cancels the rest out.  It's all just mucking about to gain as much knowledge as possible without really having to put any of it to good use.  Not that I don't want to put it to good use, just that at the time I've learned enough to put it to good use--I'm bored with it and want to do something novel.


It's really very hopeless, isn't it?

In other news, I desperately miss training.  I've been trying to look around at other places I could go and I'm not finding anything.  I wish there was a boxing gym for middle aged ladies up in my hood.   I almost caved and thought about re-joining my old place, but my favorite instructor is gone. The other instructors are nice and all, but I'm just sorta partial to him. Maybe because he'd give me this look like, "God, you are so hopeless." often and it just made me want to prove that I wasn't.  I loved the boxing instuctor there but I'm quite certain I couldn't train from him in his own studio.  I get the sense he only works with real boxers--not wanna-bes.

It's just not as fun punching/kicking a heavy bag by myself. 

There is a cross fit joint just about 30 blocks away from me.  I ride near it on my way home.  I'm thinking about it just because the training is stupid.  And by stupid--I mean, I tend to like my workouts with people screaming at me and feeling like I'm going to throw up and pass out.  It's a consideration.  Maybe if I went there I'd finally be able to do a muscle-up one day. 

If I did a muscle-up, I'd be seriously burly.  I would probably throw my own panties at myself and pass out in a swoon at just how burly I was.

It's funny.  I spent most of my life not being athletic. I still don't consider myself an athlete and I will *never* consider myself athletic because as much as I love it, I just sorta suck at all of it.  But for about 10 years now, I've just had to do something physical to feel good about myself.   I've noticed tho that I feel especially lost when I don't have an athletic endevour going on--something I'm specifically training hor..  It was triathlons and then roller derby and then weight lifting and then muay thai....  There just always has to be something that I'm pushing.  I really haven't been for awhile now and it just increases my feeling of feeling like I'm just sort of floating along, directionless.