I met a wonderful guy a few weeks ago & he genuinely fell for me, head over heels. I tried, I tell you, I tried; but I could not do it. I could not look past his imperfections. I can not tell you why. Maybe I am vain? Maybe I am shallow? Maybe I am ignorant? Maybe I hated in him, the things that I see in myself? Nevertheless, I broke things off as painlessly as possible yesterday. I hope it hurt me more than it hurt him. I wanted so badly to make it work, but no, there was no spark on my end (hard as I rubbed the damn sticks together, day in, day out -- no spark).
I received a letter a few days ago from the university. It was from the scholarship committee. I was ecstatic. Could it be? My God, something, something to give me the slightest glimmer of a hope? No, afraid not--rejection. I suppose a 3.88 GPA is not good enough. Honors track & published work & reccomendations on high, not good enough. However, I called the financial aid office yesterday & it looks like I have qualified for a loan. (So I will not have to take a semester off to work full time afterall).
I am not discouraged, in fact, very much on the contrary, I am encouraged. I will show them all. Good things come to those who wait. Not to mention that I am working on a short story. I have a very good feeling about this one. It is beautiful. I am sucking up Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, James Joyce, and other greats; attempting to emulate the utter regality of their work, their art in my writing. I am practicing, outlining, free-writing. Prose, poetry, prose, poetry, they are flowing through my veins & I am desperately thrashing about trying to spit them out on to paper.
Oh, and Saturday I am leaving for vacation. How glorious the thought? The beach (the home of my soul). The warm sand, the cerulean skies, cotton candy clouds, jungle green sea and her waves crashing upon the shore -- unsettled & eternally peaceful at the same time. There will be sun-kissed skin & good food & boardwalk games, rides, beautiful people & shopping. I will relax, unwind, regenerate the spirit that has died & decays within me.
Sometimes I wish I had all the answers & sometimes I am frankly glad that I don't.
written on 2004-07-20 at 8:00 p.m.
she / lost