Matters are coming along and I have to continually remind myself how lucky I am. I may be the only one astonished by how I’m the only one who participated in my rehabilitation, though maybe some of you who’ve followed know of some of things I’ve had to deal with. In a miraculous turn of events as the result of my struggles, I’m finally seeing a doctor to assess the true scope of the imperious and vicious pain searing through the tendons and bones of my left and right ankles at all hours of the day and night. Yay. I’m determined not to remain bitter about the hell this situation has caused me, though vindictiveness tends to linger in front of my psyche like the apple in the Garden of Eden. Perspective is the forever key.
We have buses that go to and from the campus that stop directly in front of my apartment, and though I feel strange, perspective is key here also. I challenge anyone of these kids who insist on giving me strange looks to undergo shattering their ankles and heel bones without insurance, money or family, without anything to help them at all, and go about the process of reassembling their lives from the muck of the street such an ordeal would invariably bring them to. “Look at me strange all you want you little spoiled runts, I can’t care what you think because I don’t.”
Interestingly, I’ve encountered a couple conversations that were actually quite pleasant, and I wasn’t surprised, and now I know, that the only women who are willing to talk and be friendly are the one’s who generally, by the third or fourth sentence of the conversation, state they’re engaged to be married.
I can get an email inviting me to hang out with the local crowd, but if I attend I can expect to find an aggregate mass consciousness of twenty-year-old people. I feel the energy and am enlightened in light of where I could be: hanging out with the homeless and complaining that I couldn’t get my life together; or just plain drinking myself to death, something I’m not quite ready to do. I can keep doing what I’m doing: intensely analyzing the class-work, staying involved with the process of completion, working closely with my master’s preparation counselor, and steadily keeping my eye out for a friend I can get to know. I think the pressure can get pretty unsavory if I see group after group of people living it up together, me viewing from outside the circle; but I guess this has been my trademark as a person who has had to keep traveling from town to town. A saying has been said that a person can go through a thousand people before they meet a truly good friend (and I’m not talking about blog friends, and I never do in words like this).
The rhetoric at a University of California protest function is powerful, more so in the north than in the south I believe, what with UC Berkeley and all. Apparently the system wants to raise taxes, raise tuition–again, and slash teacher work days in order to quell the state’s financial malady. I’m lucky, I busted my buns to get a certain type of scholarship, but I still owe on student loans that pay for other areas of my living expenses, and in this stage of the financial aid game in CA, I hope I don’t get cut. Kind of scary, I only have 1.8yrs to go.
I can’t see myself giving up no matter how frustrated I get, and I get very frustrated. I’m seeing a Lovecraftian life before me that I don’t know if I should try and avoid or just simply embrace. Howard Phillips Lovecraft was a writer who must have said to heck with trying to meet someone special and just wrote stories like a madman. He became a renowned American writer, but he paid the price in his loneliness. For me, maybe I really do have an intolerance for delayed gratification that I keep pushing or hoping to meet someone, or maybe I should have just stayed with my crank-snorting ex. I couldn’t have done that since I loathe the thought of drug-use, but my résumé doesn’t look too hot: “nearly broke and disabled, forty-year-old undergrad seeks companionship that, blah, blah…,” I don’t even want to finish. I’ve got my fiction like H.P. Lovecraft did, so I’m not completely in the lacking here.
So that was my rant and rave for now, the bittersweet entanglement of joy mixed with skepticism, of happiness crossed with laboriousness, of new beginnings interlaced with old problems, of triumphs met with new challenges. Someday I can look back on the days when we used to blog and say, “hey,” and then recite some powerful and poetic words to the world.