Belated 2000th Hit

Belated 2000th Hit

In the recent chaos, I completely missed my 2000th hit of my blog. So belated congrats to me on my longevity and continuing endurance!

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.

Last Day of Class: A Reflection

Last Day of Class: A Reflection

Today was the last actual class day for the semester. Now all I have are three days of final examinations. As I closed up the semester with this final class, I feel strong. I feel gooooood. Not just because in the light of recent events, but also because I took on a challenge this semester. I started out 2004 by diving head first into a deep pool. I originally, foolishly, thought that since I had no science/math classes, I can pack on the liberal arts courses and they would be a piece of cake. Boy was I wrong.

15 units of class is a lot for a student who's just a student. For me to take on those 15 outrageous units while working 35 hours a week was a ridiculous idea, but I enjoy challenging myself, and I am slightly masochistic: I love to brutally work myself to death.

I was lucky. I was lucky because I had wonderful professors who had a zeal about teaching, and I was lucky because four of the five classes I took kind of meshed and overlapped, and I was able to get a synergistic effect from the array of information taught to me. Reading Homer brought a deeper connection to the Greek art from art history class; the anglo-saxon art brought me background history to the Beowulf I had read for English literature; Covering John Donne as an individual poet in Critical Analysis class aided in my understanding of John Donne as a metaphysical poet of the English Restoration period for my English literature course; The history of Constantine and the early Christian/Byzantine art helped me understand the spread of Christianity that I had learned in my world mythology course. It was a wonderful experience being imbued in history, art, and literature. I can't say that my education in these fine things are near complete. But I have been thoroughly, most completely inspired to appreciate the vast world out there for me to delight over.

Between two English classes and a humanities (world mythology) class, I was writing day in and day out; After a semester of doing so, writing essays come second nature to me. I am sensing that even as a blogger, my entries have grown richer in its contents. I still had energy and wonderful humor and passion when I started blogging... but now my blog posts border on good writing. I have allusions and figurative languages. I have some favorite sayings in Latin too, other than the cliche "Carpe Diem." My personal favorites: Homo fuge and noli me tangere. Of course, much more explanation is needed about that, but that will come later.

I had an incredible amount of readings assigned to me by each class. I probably read more this semester than I have read since High school graduation. These readings don't make me special. They don't make my legs look sexy, or make my nose an aqueline nose. They don't give me more money or power or fame. They don't give me more friends or make me be loved more by my family. But they make me feel so rich, like a fertile land neighboring a softly flowing river, rich in resources, just lying out there like a vast stretch of green sea with the most gentle waves. Birds chirp and trees grow, and children chase after butterflies in a field of sunflowers. Their laughter permeates the air with a sweet scent of luxurious honey, or perhaps like an orchard full of virginal cherry blossoms.

A sudden fear swept over me just now: perhaps I am enjoying too much of my life now. Perhaps I am just loving so much of my life, that it will be taken away. But... but... oh fie. Let tomorrow come and do its worst. I will be blithe today.

Livin' La Vida Maravillosa

Livin' La Vida Maravillosa

Life is good. I haven't felt such an equilibrium of balance in a long while. Everything looks good. Life is tender. Life is sweet. Life is marvelous.

Talked to A today. He's become a regular in my daily activities. I am really looking forward to knowing him better and better each day. Having a companion really does light up my life, as cliche as it sounds. I guess it's just that I've had poor companions and thus felt no need for such companions. But A is great. My hand fits into his. When we stand with his arm around my shoulders, it feels natural, as if we stood that way for centuries.

Plasir d'Amore. That song comes to mind. It really does explicate my current feelings. My words -- alas, too inadequate to describe my state of euphoria.

There are still negatives in my life, and still many stress. But they're just tiny specks of dust floating in an otherwise brilliantly blue sky -- they pose no ominous threat to my current well being. I just feel extremely blessed.

I feel especially blessed for being able to survive through an essay on the metaphysical poets of the restoration period. That was grueling, but the sweetness of life ameliorates everything. Ahh. I'm just enjoying my well-deserved good life.

News Flash

News Flash

In addition to the great news from earlier today, I also got a letter in the mail from my local college's nursing department (the one that rejected me) , telling me that I am on some sort of a waiting list. It says, "While your name was not selected in the group guaranteed entry, it was among those that have a very good chance of being awared a seat by attrition." It also says later, "However, since you have a very good chance of being accepted, there is some information that I need to share..." The tone is COMPLETELY different from the rejection letter I received last Friday! Since the letter says that I have a "very" good chance of acceptance, I'll believe it. It would be best to remain at the same institution I am currently attending.

Also, the wound up feeling I had about A have just been relieved. I think I was just over reacting. To the extremes.

You know. I like to think that my life is pretty shitty. My life is the most outstanding example of Murphy's law. Everything that can possibly go wrong, has gone wrong, and I was on the verge of collapse. Since I try to remain an optimist, I always tell myself that even though life sucks so bad, I have been endowed with the energy, the optimism, the intelligence, the strength, and the endurance to make it through, and that's just absolutely lucky. So in short, I'm lucky. However, who needs optimism and strength on a day like this? On a day like this, all I can say is life is wonderful. Yes. It is a wonderful life. Ahhhh.

Holy Crap!

Holy Crap!

All of a sudden, things are looking clear. I got news from my lawyer about my immigration situation, and I just got a green light from the consulate to go down to Mexico and get my visa. Woohoo~!! Of course, it's a little early to celebrate (inevitably I will be soon -- with lotsa alcohol!) but after years of hitting dead ends, I'm finally on the right path! Also, I got news of another nursing program, a little more expensive (but I can get a loan) and a little longer (2.5 yrs vs. 2 yrs) and a little hoaky (I have to work toward an LVN license for the first year and half and complete it into an RN certificate in the last year), but it may be better than the options I've got. At any rate, I will be waiting another semester for the local college's nursing dept. lottery, so going to a longer program now wouldn't be so bad.

Suddenly, things that were in a complete chaotic knot are loosening up into straight strands. The boy trouble and final exams are still bugging me, but they're miniscule compared to the fabulous, marvelous, terrific, fantastic news I got today. If anyone's down at the border next next Wednesday -- you'll recognize me instantly. I'll be the one doing the rather embarrassing dance at the US consulate building.

Frustrated would be an Understatement

Frustrated would be an Understatement

After hours of trying to write a report on John Donne and his poetry, I decided that the more I pursued it, the more crazy I will become. As you may be able to tell, I have currently lost all my ability to create sentences that make sense and are gramattically correct, and I can't even spell some things. All I can think of is Mr. A.

Not A, actually, but about the fermentation of the current relationship. We are not committed, of course, it's way to soon for that. I don't want to get into the details, as they are very personal, and also will make me seem more nerdy and uber-geekier than usual, and that's just beyond embarrassing.

Well, most stories begin with some background, and the formation of some sort of problem, and that leads to a climax which comes down to a resolution/ending of situation. Most men, however, do not follow this rule. Most men, when a problem comes into view, they bail. They bail, so there is actually no climax and no resolution for the poor loser, such as myself. When they bail, they experience this sense of climax and resolution and closure. When I am left hanging, I feel like crap.

When I say most men, of course, I am generalizing out of the accumulated anger from within. When I say most men, I actually mean all men that I have had the displeasure of meeting so far thus in my life. A has not joined this catagory of men yet. Perhaps he will. Perhaps he won't. Perhaps all my worries will be for naught. But until I know, I will have to sit on this cushion of needles. I just feel as though it might be best if I just crawled back into my hermit-hole where I came out from and hide until the apocalypse. I'm not fit for the dating world; it is a cruel, dog-eat-dog world where only the absolute strongest and the fittest survive.

To release some tension, I went to the gym (after several weeks!). I pounded my feet on the treadmill, almost abusing my body with pain and weariness, like the Spartans did their young in training. Now I'm tired and weary, but my mind is a bit clearer. It is a bit more focused. I'm starting to regain my sense of who I am -- for a moment, I began to define myself by whom I date. While I'm not completely out of the turmoil, I think I will be able to have some clarity and gain the ability to tackle John Donne and "The Flea" (his poem).

Massive Brain Shutdown

Massive Brain Shutdown

For the first time this millenium, I woke up, at my own will, before 8 AM. I actually think it was little after 7. I have several things to do for school this following week, and I could't do any yesterday, due to a Massive Brain Shutdown. My brain is on strike. It's refusing to send sparks. In fact, I really can't tell if I'm still upset by the nursing program thing, anxious by the dating situation, or perhaps just under general stress (like general anaesthesia). I'm numb.

First I have an analytical essay on the poetry of the English restoration period. Then I have to write some sort of satire about modern times. Then I have to write a poetry research paper (I have chosen John Donne -- it overlaps with my other poetry essay). Then I have to prepare for an exam for my mythology class, as well as a poetry exam for an English class. This is all by tomorrow, mind you. It's going to be a long Memorial day.

Mopiness is Over

Mopiness is Over

My mopiness (is that an actual word?) is over. Too much time spent worrying and lamenting over the misfortunes in my life. I've always been a lass who pulls herself up by the bootstraps. While I may not own any boots, I sure have plenty of strappy sandles with which to pull myself. I still have the final exams to work for, and plenty to worry about. So I am now officially beyond grieving-mode.

So what mode am I in now? I am in the "obsessive/anxious" mode. Dating, apparently, makes me obsessive and anxious. It's not a pretty sight. Of course my counterpart is none the wiser. However, I sit at home biting my nails out. My obsession and anxiety is never outwardly projected; it is an internal battle that consumes me and makes me implode. I'm not used to dating, perhaps. I'm just not in game mode -- the push and pulls of dating is something I've lost familiarity with. Not that I was a great female casanova, but I'm really in no man's land. And as you know, I'm just not too good with situations of which I have no control. I just know where I'm going and how I'm going and so on and so forth. It's part of my predictable charm (I hope). However, dating, is like a dangerous game. Somehow, I'm not living quite up to the "dangerous" part of the theme of dangerous woman. I'm meek. I'm fearful. I'm frightened. I'm nervous. I'm anxious. I'm nuts. It's one of those things that only time would tell, I guess.