I'm a dorky yet sweet Asian Chick, a self-proclaimed uber-geek, who studies hard, and secretly desires to don scrubs while making a living.
I was rejected (again) from the nursing program at my local school. Sad, yes. But it's not like it's my first rejection, and I think the last two has really built up my character, cuz I'm taking it like the dangerous/courageous woman that I am. But please. Allow me to mope and pine for a few days, at least until the long Memorial weekend is through and done.
After reading old Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal," I decided to write my own modest proposal. Not about cannibalistic activities, of course, but tailored to my life. I had some ideas looming in my brain, fermenting, earlier today, but alas, I haven't had much sleep in the last week or so (final exams, you see) and my brain went ka-putz about three hours ago. As you all know, I have a bone to pick with US immigration, so that is where most of the ideas were brewing.
As the semester is finally winding down to an end, I have inevitably arrived at the land of exhaustion. After hours of blankly gazing into Swift's "Gulliver's Travels" (which, by the way, is not just a children's story -- it has deep satirical parts to it that ultimately makes it a challenging literature to consume) I was wondering why Robinson Crusoe hasn't met Friday yet. How that happened, I really can't tell. But I took a quiz today, and on a simple question regarding some of the people encountered in the reading, I was debating whether or not the story I read was Gulliver's Travels, or Robinson Crusoe. That may have been caused by my economics instructor's usage of Crusoe and Friday as examples of international trade.
My point is, that I have been long tired and my brain capacity is close to getting shut down. I am currently operating on extremely low brain power, and although I strongly believe that the human brain has an infinite capacity, that is only when it is operating under optimum levels. My brain, is running low on fuel, and is about to burn a fuse. I think another set of essays would surely short-circuit my brain, requiring all summer of relaxation to be fixed, and alas, I am never allowed such luxuries.
One of the reasons why I am so drained of all my energy is because of a hectic work week. I've spent almost all of my time at work this week talking on the phone. While gabbing on the phone has been one of my strong suits as well as hobbies, there's a distinct line between pleasure and pain. "Moderation in everything" is a phrase that comes to mind. When you have been talking non-stop that your jaw is in pain and your tongue is numb and your throat is hoarse, that's just too much.
The only uplifting moment I had was when I was notified that Monday would be an off day. I half-expected to work Memorial Day. Of course, who really gives a crap about Memorial Day, as long as it is a holiday. And holiday it is.
Just when I feel like I simply cannot take much more of academia, I have yet another assignment (this time in Art History, which is less pain than literary criticism) due tomorrow. Perhaps some women would understand me with this analogy: You just bought a fabulous pair of heels. You wear these heels, and without having broken them in, you arrive in a situation where you end up walking miles and miles. For example, you wear these shoes to the mall, thinking that you can walk more than half an hour in them. The first part of shopping is great. You're walking around, having fun, etc. However, when it is time to walk back to the car, your feet begins to feel immense pain. The pain is immeasurable; however, you still have to get back to the car. So in horrid pain, you walk. Well, that's just how I feel now. Of course, I could take off the shoes, but that would be like settling for a C in my courses. I worked too hard to settle for less than stellar grades! So I'll have to continue.
And STILL NO LETTER FROM THE NURSING DEPT! I am appalled. I will absolutely have to call them tomorrow and give them a piece of my mind.... anonymously, of course. I'm not that brave. =)
Is it just me, or is this a complete parody of the American Idol show on Fox? It completely parallels the way AI is! Right down to the host, who is an ugly Ryan Seacrest look-alike.
We all know that unicorns and hobbits don't exist. And that is why most mythological characters, such as wizards and ogres, are now considered just plain fictional. However, there is one mythological figure, that to this day, is debated. About its existence, that is.
That is the "great guy." It is commonly understood, although not explicitly stated, that this "great guy" is always unattainable, because he is A. already married/attached, or B. Gay. Often times a woman would mistake a regular man to be a "great guy" and later find out, with much pain, that he was a regular joe schmoe wearing a "great guy" outfit.
I, for one, had always been adamant that this entity did not exist. Most of my past dating experiences involved joe schmoez, and they were not kind, no sirree. However, recently I had an encounter with a man who was the very ideal of the "great guy." Under the premise of a blind date, I dived in with many doubts and just a couple of hours later, emerged almost completely free from them.
This specimen, (whom, after this point, I'll address as "A") exemplified everything a "great guy" should. He was polite, very well-mannered (held open the door, guided me away from approaching cars -- impressive!), very well cultured, tolerant, educated (his e-mails were alway in top form, grammatically), and on top of all that, he was genuinely sincere. He flattered me 'til I blushed, and laughed at my humor, and was a perfect gentleman.
I've met a few guys who were like this, only to never hear from them again (perhaps I scared them?) and I thought that perhaps "A" would follow suit. However, he did not. He called me afterwards to confirm that I had arrived at home in one piece (as I had notified him of my poor driving record). The phone call was also followed, by a text message in the morning, and an e-mail later on.
I'm scratching my head at this point, because I jes figgered dares gotz to be somfin' wrong in this scenario. I mean, a "great guy" exists? I wouldn't have had trouble believing it, had I read it on the newspaper. However, what are the odds that I would meet someone just so good? And I've been, pretty much, anti-man for the last three years or so, when I vowed to attack marriage and condemn its sanctity (note: exaggeration). Is it just so cynical of me that I can't accept a good thing that was just thrown into my life? If that is true, then I have become the old hag who lives in a shoe with her dozen cats. I have become that old maid who scowls at everyone she sees.
Perhaps I should just relax a little and enjoy it. It felt just too darn good to be treated like a princess. And why shouldn't I be treated like a princess? I've been an old "antedilluvian" maid for the longest time. But it was just one date. I'll have to tread lightly and be vigilant for what may come. Maybe "A" will confirm the existence of such "great guy" heterosexual bachelors after all, but until I am sure, I'll keep my eyes open.
I was hesitant in writing this expose of the "great guy." I wondered that if "A" were to Google me (and who doesn't Google? Just by googling "Haemi" he'll find my blog), he may read this. And more likely than not, he may be offended. I think I may be, if the situation was reversed. However, I did keep the identity an anonymous "A." I hope he understands my explosion to the internet about this, because quite frankly, I'm a bit smitten (in a good way).
I apologize to those who come to my blog to find dry sarcasm and a whole lotta complaints (yes, cuz that's always fun to read). I can honestly say that I probably won't be myself for the next week or two or three. With final exams and "great guy" and continuing situation with BCIS (damn you immigration people! Shake a leg!) and the nursing department (arrrrgh...), I'll probably be on cloud-9 at one point, and the Fourth Circle of Hell(see below for reference).
"Virgil and Dante continue down toward the Fourth Circle of Hell and come upon the demon Plutus. Virgil quiets the creature with a word and they enter the circle, where Dante cries out at what he sees: a ditch has been formed around the circle, making a great ring. Within the ring, two groups of souls push weights along in anger and pain. Each group completes a semicircle before crashing into the other group and turning around to proceed in the opposite direction. The souls condemned to this sort of torturous, eternal jousting match, Virgil explains ..." (from Sparknotes.com, in an explanation of The Inferno.) Sounds fun, no?
P.S. "A" is also lactose intolerant. Match made in heaven? Hmmm...
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