thankful.

One of my Chapman writing professors, published author Martin Nakell, has an Iranian pen pal who is a student and aspiring writer. Recently, I found Vahid on Facebook, and connected the two men. Dr. Nakell sent the following email, which really served to put into perspective how blessed I am to be an American.

studenti --

thanks to sera, vahid got the request to be my friend on facebook. incredibly, the regime shut down facebook (as well as other sites communicating with the outside world) after the last presidential election and the riots that followed. so vahid cannot access facebook anymore.

i just got this message from vahid as well:

Some terrifying news is that they have arrested a very big number of those who were exchanging political news and spreading the events on FaceBook, too.

whew! a good thing i or we weren't on facebook with vahid after all!

'til tuesday, have a good weekend of enjoying our freedom, yes?

dr. nakell

issues.

It's an issue of believing in myself. It's an issue of loving myself just enough to never deny myself anything. I've never had a true commitment to myself. I want to be able to say that I love myself more than any other person, but in the way that this love inspires me to be the best person I can be. True self-love does not detract from any love I may have for other people. This love of self inspires others and brings me closer to those people.

Confidence is part of it. I admire women who have enough confidence in their true selves to voraciously go after what they want and to say NO to what they don't.

Dreaming is important. If I don't try, I can't succeed. Yes, I might fail, but those knee-scrapes and ego-bruises make me tough. Sometimes I worry that my dreams are "irrelevant" or something equally vague. My dreams are just as important as anyone else's.

Self-esteem is not the pinnacle, as many would think. Self-love and self-esteem are too separate entities. I do want to hold myself in esteem, as it were, but I need that initial realization that I am worth it. Right now, I feel that hard work is the only path to this end.

Keeping an optimistic view of my own future and the futures of those around me, I am ready to step forward--even onto the thinnest of ice.

rest.

i feel like i'm continually one step behind myself
with every sip of caffeine I feel more and more sluggish
food doesn't give me energy it weighs me down like a rock in Greasy Lake

this perpetual ache in the pit of me eats away at the lining of my stomache
it doesn't burn it rolls rolls around inside of me threatening to throw itself out of me

he said "home" and asked what i saw in my head
i said "besides the migraine?"
he wanted me to say my childhood house or where my mom is
i just saw The Cottage
i think i'll only ever see a cottage
i think i'll only ever see a place that's never been mine

the wall. of words.

Unfortunately, my "starving student" status has caught up with me, and I will no longer be able to participate in Project Ethos in September. On a lighter note, I have started classes again and am greatly optimistic about my progress toward a degree.

I think I can get excited now. I think I can start getting excited. I am a little hesitant about all of this. I think I am a little tired. A little jaded. I need a little shaking. I need someone to shake me. Correction: I need to shake myself. And get into the mindset to learn.

I can't remember if I am good at learning or not. I can't remember if it's possible for me to absorb. I've grown so accutomed to telling myself I should already know everything. I guess the conclusion is that I need to unlearn before I can learn.

Sitting here, sipping caffeine and feeling no more awake than I did before, I can see the life I'm shaping for myself. I am elated about it--I just can't display that on my ragged face. My knees squished between the legs of this tiny table, the faint remnants of a foam heart in my coffee mug, the prospect of a rejuventating nap at the end of my day.

There are so many people in my life right now. I'm starting to get that asphyxiated feeling. That overwhelming need to escape. But, since the last time I've felt this feeling, I have learned to better ground myself when it wells up inside of me. I have some wonderful people, some transient people, some people I can't quite categorize. There are so many men. Each with different and intriguing personas. Even the boring ones interest me, probably because I am grasping all around for more and more people and regretting it. Not regretting it, just seeing the perverted psychology of it all.

The mixture of basil and java creates an odd perfume in my mouth. I think I'll apply for a weekend job. I'm bored. I'm excited. I am exhausted.

seraX