Steam... Not Smoke

I was having a difficult time focusing today, so I went to campus early to review French culture for my French Conversation final and get plenty of hours in for Contemporary Mexican History (for which I was feeling very unprepared). Earlier this week has been real chill, with study breaks finding me at Genie Oil Change and eating Funny's Yogurt pretending its still Tofuti. So I felt real productive with my two days off.

As my eyes began to water to clear out the stinging sensation, I realized as I was exiting Genesee that the terribleness hanging in the air was in fact coming from beneath my hood. I talked my little '92 Paseo into the parking lot, popped the hood and found my engine bathing in coolant. Craked radiator. It was steam, not smoke... I guess that's a bit better. Perhaps its like when they tell you its better to break your ankle than tear the tendons? Both suck.

Dad was awesome enough to just happen to be down by me and I only missed out on like three hours of study time. But you know what? It worked out fine. I chatted away with my French professor about the trials of my day, why everyone assumes Parisians sont mechant, sans chaleur and such. Then in my History class I only had to start guessing after nailing over 60% of the exam, with solid B's on all my other work in there that I really didn't put much effort into I can't fail. I am graduating.

Between pep talks aimed at my car making it over Mount Solidad without overheating I was thinking. I was looking at the pile of stones in my brain with a sign sticking up that reads UCSD.

There's the one that reminds me of when I was ten, on my way to surf La Jolla Shores with my family and telling my mom that's where I was going to college. She replied with what seemed like a challenge at the time, "well, good luck with that".

Another stone brings me back to my room in Clairmont, calling the admissions office and informing them there had been a mistake, "I am supposed to be in your school". I was put on hold and God told me to pray, I was on my face pleading, commanding and claiming into the carpet for what seemed like forever until she picked up... explaining the inexplicable, that all systems said I was in and my multiple forms of communications from UCSD telling me I was rejected must have been a hiccup... "welcome to UCSD".

Or when I wondered if it is cheating when God tells you the answers, or praying with Lou Engle for my campus, or dancing on the snake head with Darla, or realizing I love what I am studying, or understanding the correlation between what lessons my profs were teaching me and those God was teaching me, or passing my classes despite being hit by malaria and a semi truck in the same month...

I could rummage through this pile all night. But I won't cause I have to work at the coffee shop at 5:30am cause that's one of the millions of things you can do with a degree!