If I don't post events in a timely manner they are gone forever. If I ever thought there was a comprehensible storyline, a life happening here in a clear and sequential manner I realize I was wrong. Myself, I follow the events between posts because they are mine and I know of them. It comes as a testament to awareness, and a bit of a shock to realize I am not telling you a story at all.
Last Wednesday my post would have started like this: "I generally don't like to use this space to complain, but..."
And it would be hopping mad and most likely include a few bad words. It would have also detail an exhibition of bad behavior and undeserved kindness. The verylong, nogood, awfulbad day ended with a longstem rose and a note that read I LOVE YOU waiting on the table for me long after bedtime. But that day is over, the keys recovered, the car unlocked...
And it is all lost, the events of the day conflated into the blur of the week, except the list of things that nolonger make me mad that I penned out that night in a bar with Katrina.
Today I am making Som Tum with lots of hot peppers and adding shredded carrots because I somehow ended up with 408 carrots in my fridge that I feel obligated to not waste. They look so beautiful in my shiny metal bowl!
And inbetween the wasteland of Wednesday and the greenpapaya(carrot)salad of Sunday, if I can salvage anything, I did learn that I passed the Qualifying Exam and so, I will start an internship in April, the same month that I will also be attending TequilaCon...
I don't think it could have been a more suspenseful revelation... Friday, holding for the three hour duration of my Theory class, an eye on the stack of envelopes in queasy anticipation. For the six of us waiting for our results the cat was both dead and alive.
***We started with 27, lost six to lifemoreimportant, lost seven more to cannotkeepup, another five to a less demanding concurrent program resulting in not an interpreter but simply a person in possession of undifferentiated knowledge, and then there were nine. Three of those nine performed well enough to pass a preliminary QE in the fall.
Six envelopes containing twelve possible futures. Until 5:59pm on a Friday night a panel of theorists, guest speakers all, held the floor jocular and naive of pressing matters. PLEASE WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE OUTSIDE OF THE CLASSROOM BEFORE YOU OPEN YOUR ENVELOPE. In the cold concrete breezeway I learned that I passed the test. Four others did not.
And that was the moment, one I salvaged from the passage of time. Qualifying means everything to me in a way that is totally intangible and deeply personal. I got sushi and flowers, plus a sense of perspective that this was not the insurmountable hurdle it had seemed. Nevertheless I appreciate the deep sense of satisfaction and feel very entitled to the fruits of my labor.
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