AAAAAAAHHHH

Passed. GRADUATED. Alhamdulillah.

No more school. No more exams. And I have that degree that everybody said I would need. Not that I'm completely disagreeing - it would come in handy insyaAllah.

And now I need a to find a job with barely any clue where to start looking.

The truth this, I don't think any of this has properly sunk in yet. I haven't felt the simultaneous assault of overwhelming elation and crushing fear that I expected to accompany this.

BWAAAARGGH

I don't think I've ever felt such frustration and loathing towards a lecturer before. If I was still physically going for lectures rather than relying on webcasts I would be storming out. Or dreaming I could throw a shoe at him. Sometimes he treats us like complete idiots, and sometimes we're suddenly geniuses. Some concepts are repeated ad nauseam while others are breezed through before I can even comprehend that he's moved on from the previous topic to this one.

I can't afford to fail now. And I can't help thinking he's making this much harder than it needs to be.

Things to be thankful for

Ramadan went by before I was ready to see it go. I admit, it was only in recent years that I truly understood what it meant to feel sorrow at Ramadan's departure, but better late than never, I suppose. Ah well, InsyaAllah, there's next year.

Hari RAya was okay. Everyone's still too busy with school, so there wasn't much time for shopping for nice new outfits to wear and stuff like that, but I guess it didn't really matter. My nenek's staying with us so all my dad's siblings and their families gathered here to celebrate. It was festive, certainly, with our house so full of people and the insane amount of food my mom somehow managed to produce, but my mind kept drifting back to my lab report and to how I have a test next week that I haven't studied for. Bleah. we visited my other grandma and my aunt earlier, but didn't stay too long because everybody's like "I need to get back to my project" and "I have exams! Must study!" and stuff. Ah, we're all such fun people these days.

It was interesting to note how my status in the family hierarchy is still firmly at "kid". If my cousins are any indication it'll only change when I turn into a full-fledged working adult. Not so sure I'm looking forward to the upgrade though.

The mandatory seek-forgiveness bit with my parents didn't end in waterworks this year, thankfully. Most years I tell my self I'm going to go through with it calmly but by the time it happens I'm like "WAAAAA I'VE BEEN A HORRIBLE DAUGHTER I'M SO SORRY WAAAAAAA" and my parents are like "SOB SOB YES YOU HAVE BUT WE STILL LOVE YOU DON'T ABANDON US WHEN YOU GROW UP AND STUFF" and it looks like something out of those filial piety dramas they like to show around this time of the year. Messy.

And now that's all over and I'm probably a kilo or too heavier from stuffing my face and I still have a lab report and studying to get back too. Sigh.

it was a test, and i think i may have failed

Ya Allah,

Please forgive this servant of yours who is constantly guilty of believing the worst of others, of only seeking excuses to err on the side of cynicism, of growing so stingy with her trust even when granting it would be of little loss to her and yet of great benefit to those who would seek it. And grant her the faith and generosity of heart that will allow her instead to believe the best in others and give those she encounters the benefit of the doubt.

Amin.

And exactly one month later...

So. My leg's alright, thank you very much for your concern. I can walk, I should stop needing my brace pretty soon (no more skirts!) so there's nothing else stopping me from going out. Well, apart from my limited budget.

I still can't bend my leg fully though, which makes sitting down with my legs folded under me painful. I wonder when I can solat on my feet again. If ever...

This period of convalescence hasn't been so bad. I've had an incredible amount of time to myself, which translates to a lot of reading and videos (I'm horrifyingly obsessed with Glee) and indulging in some of my dark, secret, hobbies (no it does not involve porn you pervs), interspersed with some moments spent out of the house and meeting people (especially this one person) when I got sick of my own company as well as that of my family. Having to recover during my vacation is definitely preferable to having to do it during the term, but I really wished I didn't have to spend my final school holiday (InsyaAllah) in this manner. There were so many things I wanted to do, so many people I wanted to hang out with, but I haven't gotten the chance.

Speaking of people, all those commencement photos keeps driving home how the next semester is going to be a little lonely. Suddenly the people I've grown used to seeing won't be around anymore. But that had to happen at some point, and I'm just going to have to bear it.

I can't make up my mind whether to be envious or relieved that I'm not among those graduating just yet. On one hand, it makes me sad to think that if I hadn't screwed up so badly, I would have been right there with them. On the other hand, I don't feel ready to be released into the wild just yet. I'm not sure if I'll ever be ready. But that's just one more thing I'll have to face eventually.


.
.
.

On a completely unrelated note, after the sensory assault known as Eclipse, I would like to reiterate just how strongly I dislike the Twilight saga. I can understand why people like it, I really can. But being a fan requires an acceptance of certain things that I, as a fan of good characterization, intelligent plots and well-exceuted storytelling, as well as a non-believer of the notion that stalking is romantic, simply cannot.

I never want to do that again

D-day - Right after the op
Slept through the entire thing, of course. Falling asleep in the operating theatre and waking up elsewhere was slightly disconcerting. And I knew it would hurt, but wow. I could never have been ready for that. I'd been injected with a nerve block, dosed with morphine, swallowed two kinds of painkiller and still I felt like crying. Who knows how much it would have hurt otherwise. The fact that I was ravenous and nauseous didn't help. They said it was the anaesthesia. I hadn't had anything to eat since the night before, and when I took some bites out of dinner I ended up throwing everything up. It wasn't until the next day's breakfast that I managed to keep food down.

And my leg felt like they'd cut it off and swapped it with an anchor. Except, of course, the anchor wouldn't have been in pain...I couldn't bend it at all, and that leg brace they'd strapped on me was effing heavy. It also cost an unclaimable $280 My leg was a dead-weight, and any kind of movement had become arduous. I think it was only dignity that spurred me on to use the crutches and drag myself to the toilet - no way was I going to pee in a bed-pan.


After - Days 1-4
I mean, seriously, dead-weight leg. No way could it have been fun. Things were even worse than when I first got my injury. Nearly went crazy with boredom, felt useless and pathetic. and found myself wondering, more than once, whether it had really been worth it. Even getting off the bed was really difficult and painful, let alone getting on with the necessary motions. Spent most of the time confined to my bed, either in a painkiller-induced haze or just staying there because I was paranoid about damaging my graft . I was like a baby - whenever I needed something, I had to make noise and have someone get it for me, someone else had to clean up after I ate, and whenever I walked, someone would be watching to make sure I didn't stumble and hurt myself.

Also, I never thought that I'd have to pray sitting down before I hit thirty, let alone find myself praying on my bed.

You know what was worse? Getting a sore throat during this period. Really not helping.

You know what was even worse? Realizing that no matter how much I was struggling, at least I was healing. For some people, this kind of struggle is permanent.


Day 5
X-ray, then had the bandages removed, and got a look at what they'd done to my leg before they put in fresh dressings. Stitches still bloody - another week before they're removed. Clarified with the doc that my graft was holding up okay and that I wasn't in much danger of damaging it. Movement, here I come.

All that for just $79 *dies*

Oh wait, I haven't included the taxi fare. And physio charges. That's another $46...

Well, physio was okay at least. More good news. Re-learned how to bend my leg, and how to walk with just one crutch. That makes things so. Much. Easier. Started to feel more optimistic. Excited even. I finally have an ACL again! My leg doesn't feel like two Jenga bricks stacked precariously on their narrower ends anymore. It'll be long a while before I'm back to normal, but at least I know I'm getting there. I feel a little like a kid with a new toy she's not allowed to play with yet.

I really hope the worst is over, and that things can only get better InsyaAllah...

Not so beautiful on the inside

Resentment is an ugly, ugly thing. If I haven't already forgiven, then InsyaAllah I will. But I'm still not quite over it yet.

Damn. I'm not the one who panicked and fell. How come you get to fight and I don't? Why am I the one who gets stuck with this shit?

And you're fighting my teammate so I'll probably have to watch you fight. But I'm hoping you don't try to talk to me.

It'll just make me feel uglier.

...nope, weight on the chest's still there.