Lost in the Forest

One of the most difficult hurdles to be faced by graduate students is encapsulated in one short word - thesis. It seems like it's everybody's nightmare. To call it a nightmare is a severe understatement but then my limited vocabulary could not conjure anything worse. To call it hell would also post a potential problem - what then would you call anything worse? Or is thesis really the very incarnation of evil itself?

My friend Doi was held up momentarily by her thesis. Let's just say, the summer of 2004 would forever be etched in her memory as those days when she abandoned much needed rest and relaxation to hang out with several jars full of shrimp eggs, watching them hatch. My sister is also doing her thesis at the moment. From all the economic jibberish she keeps on mouthing even in her sleep, I understand that she will be doing something on brain drain and trade liberalization. I think I would be a perfect specimen for her thesis. After all, I am as brain drained as my country can be.

Just last Sunday, I was singing a song while I was getting dressed for church. The words went "Be strong and take courage for the Lord will go before you." A few days later, I'm more shaken than a rattlesnake's tail. The words bring comfort but I still feel the apprehension all about me. But then I know the words only give encouragement. The hard work has to be done. When school started, I was in a meadow, trying to decide which forest I should enter to get to the other side. I made a decision and entered a forest of my choice. Now I'm lost in the forest. Gotta get back to the drawing table because I now need to find a tree in the middle of this jungle.

And There Was the Beginning

Apprehension and yes, even fear. For the first time in my life, I can actually say that I do not know what lies ahead. The future is uncertain, as many have claimed in an endless fashion. 21 years old and a graduate student...I do not know if life can get any harder and anymore crazier than this.

I cannot explain this but ever since I was a kid, I had always wanted to know what it was like being 21. The age isn't completely fascinating. 18 would be more memorable. 13 would be intriguing and turbulent. 30 could perhaps signal desperation. 50 would be like the California gold rush. And 80? I could only think of a sepulchre for that. But 21? It's forgettable...but not for me.

So here I start...barely 21 years old...at the point in time that I have always wanted to be in. As I sit here and write this, I wonder why. The answer comes in almost a snap. I had written the words down before. And I need to hear them once more. Fear. Apprehension. I'll never look at them the same way again.