Getting round tuit...

Behind my old elementary principals desk, was a hairy camel-colored bulletin board, with a hodgepodge of papers pinned on to it. I had the rare opportunity of reading every thing pinned up there frequently enough to know some of it off by heart. Then again, I used to be in the principals office an awful lot. Those papers never changed in all the years I was in elementary school, except perhaps to yellow, fade and curl up at the edges, growing brittle and dry as their content.
As The good Principal-Rabbi, began his current diatribe, his hands holding the edge of his desk for reinforcement, I tried to look attentively at his face, in the hope that I would be allowed to return to class without a full-blown lecture.
Alas, he rather liked the undulations of his vocal cords. He cleared his throat. I think he must have had sinus issues. I always looked concernedly at him when he did that, aware that the familiar steely-resolved look had entered his ginger-ale eyes.
It was actually quite a suitable expression for his impervious face. A look wholly complimented by his wire-rimmed spectacles, I used to think to myself.
As I watched him work himself into a real lather of righteous rebuking, his face reddened importantly, clashing with his rapidly used-to-be red, side parted hair. No doubt he was just getting started. I sighed inwardly.
As his voice rose and fell, I watched his lips move, entirely surrounded by a luxuriant mustache and beard, like pink slugs wriggling on a sheepskin rug. I stifled a giggle, deciding by then it was safer to let my eyes slide sideways, on to something less inflammatory.

There it was... a printed out piece of paper, cut carefully into a circle for authenticity.

By the time I had read this a few times, he was usually finished and I would hasten to say "yes Rabbi..." and would open the door and trot off to class as quickly as possible before he thought of anything else to say.

The thing is, I really like reading his 'round tuit'. It was the best thing in his office. The idea of all of us, neatly finishing up all those things that somehow always got put off for various reasons, was so satisfying.

and yet, today as I contemplate that I may finally finish up my book soon, the idea of actually typing... 'the end' and sending it off somewhere into the wide world, is a formidable one.

Some finishes are so easy. You know when you pull everything out of the closet, go through it, discarding all that has to be gotten rid of and then you put the last useful thing back inside. Seeing everything neatly folded and sorted, feels like the world has a discernible sense of order. For a brief moment in time, there is that sense of satisfaction, of symmetry of a job well finished.

I think perhaps it is the authenticity of the thing, which delays me so. Subjective creative or artistic type jobs are written or painted in lifeblood and guts.
The source of the work, wells from deep inside ones sense of self, so to finish it and hold it up to the light, give it up for examination to others, can be paralyzing enough to want to just...stop...not finish it yet... wait..the details, it is not perfect.. is it? How could it be?
Lets keep going and see... almost done..almost... well..maybe a bit more...

There is a very definite terror of completion. I mean, it kind of feels like throwing the firstborn into a vastness of the great, wilderness world, all on its own. How will it stands up to scrutiny? The more untested the waters, the more formidable finishing the job and getting it ready to emerge... truly is...

whats absurd is the need for closure at the same time, before moving on. I need to somehow reach a sense of something smoothly finished and polished...so all these open-ended jagged edges, with so much to say, kind of trip me up, stub my toes or bang my elbows and knees, leaving me feeling bruised, crowded and banged up and without that sense of..job well done...or job done at all.

I suppose I had better get a-round tuit. The good Rabbi, would be delighted that I actually took something constructive from his lectures. Then again, probably not.