I would like to call this set of thoughts, collectively, as The Beginning of the End. Now, lest some parties wonder – or perhaps rejoice – at the words, let me tell you what I mean. I have about a month left before I leave the country for studies abroad. Maybe it will take me only four years to get my PhD; maybe it will take six years, or seven, even longer. Maybe I’ll come back and work here; maybe I’ll bring everyone I love over to Indiana so I can start a better career, and a better life, over there.
For now, I know nothing. I know only that I want to be alone with my thoughts, in the darkness. Sometimes, I like to imagine myself floating out into space, with only the light of the stars blinking back at me and staring at me like a hundred thousand watching eyes. Tonight, and in these next few days, I shall do just that.
I shall look at the stars of my imagination, and I shall watch them back.
Concern for others is a good thing, as long as it doesn’t spill over into total paranoia.
I’ve always told myself that, but sometimes, I can’t seem to get it past my alarm. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s some natural mothering instinct finding a way to escape from me? Maybe I’m too paranoid? Or maybe I’m just getting old?
Maybe that’s it. I’m just old. An old woman who’s tired of being laughed at, not taken seriously, and duped by false hopes. An old woman who’s lost so much that she’s afraid of every gift that’s given to her. An old woman who doesn’t know what to think or feel anymore.
An old woman who has learned a lot, and who is wiser. An old woman who is picking up new things every day, and who knows that she must never squander her principles. An old woman who must turn her back on her past and face her future, tears and all.
Old and wise, perhaps – I’d rather have that than old and tired.
My mom told me something strange the other day. She said that I should enjoy every single moment of my new life in the States, because it’s only now that I’ll be truly free.
I’ll enjoy my time, true, but I’ll place school first. This is a PhD we’re talking about, so I’ll have lots of papers to write, lots of presentations to make, and lots of things to read.
And then there will be parties! No beer or hard drinks for me. My last debacle taught me that. And no hanging out for too long, either, especially if I have classes the next day. Friday nights work perfectly fine; no Saturday nights, because I want to go to Church lucid.
I hope they have nice roadside cafes in Purdue, so I can just sit down with Mallow and write. Or, better yet, sit down with friends and talk!
I hope they have roadside cafes in Purdue. They do have wi-fi at the dorm, which is great. Now I can get all the Internet I want.
The strangest thing about what mommy said is that this is the only time that I’m truly free.
But haven’t I always been free?
It is dark, but it isn’t even midnight. Here I am, with my thoughts, with my fears and unease, with all my strangeness. The full moon is waning outside; perhaps it has brought all the old lunacy with it. Still, I am afraid and excited, all at the same time.
That fist in my heart closes and opens, as though allowing me to breathe. In a month, I shall be gone, and it shall be a whole new world for me. What will it be like, in Purdue, I wonder? Work? Papers? Learning how to walk all over again?
Oh, dear God, grant me the strength to keep on going. Give me the strength to fear no more. Give me the strength to keep on trusting, no matter what.