I have decided not to write about the university…Not yet…too scary…
Next week I have one more exam to pass so my honors and whether I receive them or not depend on it 200%.

I am actually so worried I have bellyaching.

When I started typing I was going to tell you about how I was invited to a lyceum today to teach American studies to all these super talented 12 year olds and how they showered me with all the questions and made me remember my own hyper-self that I was in school at their age but now the old heavy feeling has returned to my stomach and I just can’t do that any more.

I love learning new things. I love studying. I love making my own discoveries and researches. I love reading, writing, taking pictures, making decisions, watching, listening, playing and laughing. Oh my gosh, when I start thinking of all the things that I love I come to believe I can do anything in the world. No kidding!

Except for when this other little nuisance of a thing comes onto the stage—I hate learning things by heart. I open the copybook, see how many terms I have to memorize, sigh heavily and close it back again. Why is it that the system I live in is not fond of one’s own interpretations and you always have to learn word for word somebody else’s ideas? I know it’s not as bad as it was 50 years ago when my grandmother had to memorize whole paragraphs from Lenin’s works so I shouldn’t be complaining, but once again, I just can’t help it.

I know my life will not change if I don’t receive the honors. And I know my life will not change if I do receive them. I will not become one bit smarter or kinder or beautiful. So what’s the problem? I guess it’s my own and everybody else’s expectations of myself that simply kill me. Great expectations, to my memory, have not made anyone happy so far. Or may be my memory is failing me again, I told you I can’t ever remember things.

I am sure once I pass this exam and get back to my blog next week no matter the result, I will not recognize the emotions I am going through now. The world forever appears to be different from the reality of things when one is in panic, just like it is in this picture of the sky through my fake Gucci sunglasses. Although, what IS the reality? I am not sure I know the answer.

Please wish me Buena Suerte and I will go to sleep now.