Therapeutic Ramblings.

So, things have been going very well for me. I finished a short story and I've mailed it off--regardless of whether it's accepted, that is something that I very rarely do and I'm proud that I've accomplished my goal. I have another story I need to edit, but I've got the itch to be creative, so I'm trying to write another short story first. I've got an idea, but it's a bit difficult to pull off so far. I had a bit of luck yesterday--if I didn't break through my writer's block, I at least shoved it a few yards away from me.

Besides writing, though, things have been going very well for me. Last semester was an exercise in torture, depression, endurance, and...just...bad things. I was still recovering from car accident, I probably should have taken a semester off, but I didn't want to fall behind--I wanted to make sure I could graduate on time so that I could take care of Darling Dearest. Because of my decision, I was basically taking two semesters at once. I took all 3 of my major education classes in the same go, so I was loaded down with a full schedule, PLUS make up work from the previous semester, PLUS another extra 20 hours of teacher observations due by the end of the semester. It was...hard, to say the least.

After all of that work, I still only failed one class. I have never failed a class. This was a devastating blow to me.

This semester, however, I am doing much better. I'm re-taking the class I failed, and with my other classes, I owed 1 more extra credit hour. I worried about that one hour--I was afraid I'd have to stay an extra semester and graduate late and become what they jokingly call a "super senior" (a senior who has stayed an extra semester or year--which apparently happens A LOT here). It was nothing to worry about, though. I checked with my adviser, and I am now working on our university's literary journal. WHOO! This is fantastic because 1) it's work I really love, and 2) it's exactly 1 hour--just what I need.

Financially, despite a rough summer where I worked at a fast food restaurant, burned my hand, burned my eye lid, and had to buy expensive new shoes that worked no better than the ones I had, we are now much better off. I lost my scholarship (because of the 1 failed class...ever...) but I got enough other financial aid to not only take care of my debts, but also give me much much money in a refund.

With all of that said, I'm still worried. Things have been going to so well, but I still have to take a few tests that will qualify me to get my license to teach. This worries me because the one that's vital for my internship next semester is my content knowledge. If it were English--writing and grammar, I wouldn't be too worried, but it also includes literature. Since the English literary world is thousands of years old, I'm starting to panic. I've already read Catcher in the Rye, so now I'm going through and reading/rereading classics that I don't feel I read well enough for my exams. Jane Austen, I'm about to get to know you very well. Mark Twain, we're gonna become chums. F. Scott Fitzgerald, you and I will boogie our way through the Jazz Age, and I better get my hands on some William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, and John Steinbeck soon, too, I guess. I'm also gonna read Dracula, possibly the Invisible Man, and Lord of the Flies. So...much...reading.

Of course, this is my panic state. Probably an over-reaction, but I feel so vitally unprepared for what I'm about to undertake. I'll probably calm down in a few days/weeks, but then I have another heap of problems and that's where I'll be living when I become a teacher. Originally, the plan was to stay here where my wife could continue her education, but we're thinking of transferring to a slightly bigger town/metropolis area where one of my best friends lives. I'd LOVE to move there, but I'm nervous I won't get hired, and where I get hired dictates where I'll live, and where I live has to be decided before school restarts in the fall and AND AND--

*sigh* Deep breath, dude. We can do this.

Right...so...that's where I stand right now. This is mostly just therapeutic ramblings on my part. I'm sure (read, I hope) I'll figure everything out and everything will turn out okay.

Okay...I better sign off before I make this any longer. Cheerio!

Goal

Before I do anything else, I just wanted to let you guys know how Darling Dearest is doing. She's doing great. She's been moved to Stage II rehab, and she's making a fast and amazing recovery. We're hoping she'll be out by early April...but it might take a little bit longer. Even though she's able to walk with a walker with amazing accuracy, they only just let her do it full time, and she still has to have someone watching her inside and touching her outside. She feels that a bit unnecessary, and since I've taken her out a few weekends, I would agree to a certain extent.

Okay, so update over, onto the original reason for me writing this:

Tomorrow is the first day of spring break. (I always count Friday evenings. Why wouldn't you? that's quality time to stay up late and not worry about class...as opposed to normal weekdays were I stay up late and not worry about class...) So what does the first day of Spring Break mean? Well for one thing, I get to see Darling Dearest, for another thing, I get a chance to hopefully wipe out the remaining make up work for my classes last semester, but also it's a chance for me to relax away from the pressures of class and the demands of teacher liscenship.

I've got big plans for this week. As I've already stated, I'm going to wipe out my make up work. I also plan to sleep and read a lot. And write. Yes. Write. Something that has been eaten by the pressures of reassembling my life after my accident. I want to use this week to finish a short story. I want to have a short story done, edited, and ready for mailing off when I get back to school. Will it get accepted--probably not. It'll probably suck. But I want to use this prime opportunity to WRITE.

Wish me luck.

On a side note, wish me luck on finding an apartment as well. Darling Dearest and I are looking for one for when she gets out of rehab. Fingers crossed.