I Pity the Fool

I Pity the Fool

And I am a fool. How could I have been so naive as to believe that happy endings exist in my sorry life? It turns out that going across the border to sort out my immigration status is out of the question. I was very bummed, because as you know, I was floating on hallowed ground in the heavens because I thought two major things I worried about were about to be resolved. Instead, I crashed, I fell off that cloud nine crap, and fell on my head I did.

I nearly broke into tears, but quickly gathered myself like the Spartan I am (O the brutal way I discipline myself!)and prepared to pull myself back up by the bootstraps (or my strappy sandals at the very least, not being much of a boot wearer). I yelled at myself: "since when did you rely on happy endings Disney-style? Since when were you so lucky? Listen you. You are never lucky. Get it inside yo head! Never depend on that or believe that sort of crap. You have to work yo ass off for every single thing in yo life and you better earn everything. Never accept a free lunch, because that will just come right back and bite you in the ass. You hear me?" For some reason, that disciplining voice is always from a large black woman, a la Queen Latifa, from the musical film, Chicago. It's a bit harsh, but there is a bit of tenderness like Mama would have.

So I was bummed a little, but I'm ok. I'm more than ok. I got my sanity back. I'll just have to show those folks at immigration what kind of exemplary model person they're missing out as a citizen, if that makes any sense.

On the other hand, I've been blessed still with A. A's great, and he is sincerely interested in the mundane things in my life. Most people heard so much of my immigrant status that they automatically block their ears when I start talking. A is a sweetheart. I keep meaning to pinch him to make sure he's real (I wouldn't be too surprised if he went "poof" and disappeared before my eyes!) but I forget to do it everytime I look into his eyes. I can honestly have a fab time just looking at him and him looking at me. Which is what we did tonight. After he drove about 30 miles, all we did was just look into each other's gaga eyes...

Shane keeps asking me if there's a committed relationship brewing yet. As smitten as I am with A, I kind of like the way things are now. That would be like gulping down a luscious double chocolate cake (without savoring the taste) to get to that satisfactory feeling of being full. I'm just enjoying the flow of things. After years of losers and no-good doers, this is just... just.... nice. Nice, as a word, can be very plain. It's just four letters long, and once syllable. It's used so commonly, that it can be used sarcastically or even to mean the very opposite. But my current thing with A is fittingly described as nice, because it's not a Cinderella story or Snow White story. It's just the normalcy that I sought after for the longest time. It's definitely not bad at all. But it's not overwhelming. Just like Goldilock's soup, it's juuuuuust right.