Prepare, prepare, prepare...

My wall of books, notebooks, and papers on the dining room table. It's comforting to be surrounded by such good friends. I've enjoyed re-introducing myself to Scout, Esperanza, Nick, Saleem, and the others, and recalling their stories, not surprisingly still vivid in my mind. Like looking through a photo album, only this one is filled with words, plots, characters, themes. I hadn't realized I'd miss them, until now.

This is it

I am taking the next two days off to study for my comprehensive exam on Saturday, or comps. Not that I haven't been studying every night, every day, every weekend, for the past two weeks. I just felt the need for a two-day-power-study surge going into Saturday.

And what is comps? It is a personalized exam over the books listed on my "reading list"page, incorporating, well, pretty much everything I've learned over the years as an undergrad/graduate in pursuit of my BA and MFA in creative writing. I have no idea what the questions will be, I just know they will include most of these books. Did I mention it's from 9:00-3:30, with a break for lunch?

Not so tough, right? Last weekend, I was in full panic mode. Already contemplating how I would rescind the invitations that went out for my graduation reception, what class I would have to enroll in next year in order to re-take comps or if I would have to enroll, and would I walk in the May ceremonies or just be too embarrassed and ashamed that it took a do-over in order to graduate.

I'm feeling better today. I've received a few encouraging emails, this being my favorite:

            "I have consulted with the occult and Norse gods, and the portents are excellent for your upcoming examination. In fact, it seems your real talents and merits are to be agreed upon by all present, so fret not."

And with all of these emails, "good luck" cards, and Facebook messages, the panic has subsided. What I'm left with is a sense of humility and a whole lot of gratefulness. With the belief of family and friends, I am afloat in comps-confidence. Who needs the occult and Norse Gods, when I have all of you.

How Much Time Will it Take?

The saying goes, "Time heals all wounds." How much time? I know that two years is not enough. Will it be five? Fifteen.

I'm betting that there is not enough time upon this earth to heal my heart, nor the broken hearts of my family. We will go to our Maker with these hearts, bandaged and stitched, held together by memories, tears.

Not one day goes by that I do not think of her. Smell her. Hear her.

She would be 31 years old today.

Happy Birthday, Andrea. On that sweet day when I see your face again, that will be the day my heart will be whole again.

Ain't Missing You at All

Okay, maybe a little. The "you" being spring registration. It's not so much the actual task of registering for classes, it's the preliminaries.

I miss rushing around campus trying to secure a schedule of courses booklet, always fearful that they might all be snatched up. I would admire the new cover for the semester, a picture of a happy, ambitious student, or WU, or maybe the clock tower.

Then, I would find a quiet area at home and with a yellow highlighter, a black pen, and a few paperclips, begin my process of highlighting classes I needed to take, place a black star by those I really WANTED to take, and paperclip the pages to make thumbing through my choices easier.

Once the booklet was completely starred, highlighted, and clipped, I would get a separate piece of notebook paper and write out my imagined schedule.

Crazy, I know. But, I always looked forward to it. There was a bit of magic in creating that schedule, satisfaction in checking off the required classes, excitement in knowing that this schedule would rule my life for the next 16 weeks.

No more. I graduate December 13. So, when the email announced that schedule of courses booklets were available and that advisors were scheduling appointments, I sadly clicked delete.

I passed one of those booklets in the hall of Lindquist today. I wanted so badly to pick it up, leaf through the pages, imagining it filled with yellow highlighter. But, I kept walking.

They say it gets easier to walk away, to say no, each semester. I hope so.

The Agony of Defeat

I'm going to really date myself, but do you remember the opening for the Wide World of Sports hosted by Jim McKay? It had that wonderfully stirring montage of sports clips and the following narration:

"Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sport...the thrill of victory...and the agony of defeat...the human drama of athletic competition. This is ABC's Wide World of Sports"

Well, the line "...and the agony of defeat," along with clip of the ski jumper helicoptering off the end of the ramp and into a fence is what I'm focusing on today.

Two reasons: the Chicago Bears and NaNoWriMo

Let's begin with the Bears. Horrible. If you would like a complete rundown of their failure, go here: Chicago Sports.

Personally, I don't feel the need to recap such horrific defensive play. And so, the Bears dreams of a playoff are helicoptering into oblivion. A snowball of out-of-control fury.

Second: NaNoWriMo

You can see by the little participant widget to the right that I'm just racking up the words. Now, I'm not admitting complete defeat. Not yet. I knew what I was up against: a thesis/project, comps/research paper, and lets not forget that pesky full-time job. I knew the odds were stacked high, but I remained hopeful. This would be fun! Exciting!

Not so much. When I do have a moment to work on the new novel, well, let's just say I find other means to spend that spare time. Like, napping. Or watching football (although that may be coming to an end real soon).

I realize this is the 9th day and I should be 14,994 words in, but I'm not throwing in the towel. Not yet. I've got until November 30th. Anything can happen. Anything is possible.

 Even the thrill of victory (cue soul stirring music).