Commencement

Hello beautiful people!

I’m returning to A Certain Slant of Light after a year of posting. The reasons for this hiatus are simple and complex (per usual): my last year of grad school was intensely busy and I needed a break. Although I enjoyed writing entries, I did not feel like I they were representing my genuine self. The news was constantly depressing, as it still is, and I felt like I was focusing too much on these depressive aspects without also taking care of myself.

These past two years in my social work program, I have learned a lot about self-care. Am I better at it? Not necessarily, but it has led me to practices of gratitude and writing. I hope in my reinvented blog that I will be able to share that with my readers as well as stay faithful to what this blog has always been about for me; reflecting on that certain slant of light that can shine on and transform literature, people, and the world.


Almost two weeks ago, I graduated with my Masters in Social Work (MSW). As I sat through the ceremony, I thought of the two previous graduations I’ve been a part of: high school and undergraduate. Unlike these occasions, I know what I’m going to be doing, what career I’m going to have – at least to a certain extent. At my high school commencement ceremony, I knew I was going to college. At my undergraduate commencement ceremony, I knew I was going to Pennsylvania,  to a place called the Sycamore House. I couldn’t ever have imagined that my year in PA would inspire me to be a social worker. There was a marked emphasis on the meaning of graduation at high school commencement and for the life of me, I can’t remember what was said at my undergraduate ceremony. This time, I did pay attention to the speech, which was about struggles in the speakers’ immigration to the U.S. and the entrepreneurial spirit, but what created the most impact for me was what I had written on my cap:

  gradcap“She Believed She Could So She Did”

And I did!

Now, I can place the letters “MSW” after my name and in the next couple months, I can start calling myself a therapist. A slightly scared, excited, fledgling therapist, but a therapist nonetheless. I am proud that I can add these letters to my name and I am proud that I am training with and joining the legion of therapists. May I be a compassionate, helpful one.


Every week, I try to write down things I’m grateful for. I then deposit them (or an object symbolizing my gratitude) into my gratitude box. After 2 years, it is full and heavy. I am dedicating this space at the end of every entry to share three items of gratitude. Starting… or commencing… now.

I am grateful for:

1. Family

2. The stress of grad school being over.

3. Keeping in touch with old and new friends.