you have money
Is
more advisable than playing rummy.
But
if you don’t have it and ask the Gov
Good
luck to you my dear dove
What is the
secret of a successful career in life?
First, I thought it is all about having the
brains.
Then, somebody told me it is about having the
right paper.
In the end, I found out that more than anything
else, what you need
is passion, lots of it.
For now though, I was stuck at the “right
paper” phase. And, without
much luck in finding a job, I jumped at the first opportunity of going
back to
school.
After getting a student grant from the
government, I got accepted to
a college to study for paralegal. I marked the day on the happy
memories
calendar and called Robert.
“Yay! I have news, Robert!”
“Sounds like big news to me.”
“No big news, just baby steps. I’m still a baby,
so what do you
expect?”
“I’d say more of a babe than a baby.”
“Ha! I got the grant! I’ll study again!”
“Sweetie, that’s great! You’re great!”
And it was. Because the college was very far
from where I was living,
I had to move. And finding a new place was tricky. For an entire month,
each
day, I was knocking on doors, looking for a room to rent close to
school,
without any success. It was tiring, depressing and disheartening.
Finally, a week before the college started, an
Indian guy offered me
a room in a newly built house. But, when I went to see it, I found out
the
house was still under construction and so was the whole neighborhood.
The
nearest phone cabin was about fifteen-minutes walk, the bus stop about
half an
hour walk, as to the grocery shopping mall, it was yet to be built.
Lesson learned: If something sounds too good to
be true, then it
probably is.
But, when push comes to shove, there is not
much you can do or you
wouldn’t do. So, all alone, I moved out to my spooky, haunted house.
Robert and I celebrated the event on the beach, well
wrapped in our blankets ,
feeding a few Canadian geese, and hoping the worse was behind
me.
My first week of school was fun, full of
laughter, excitement and
new hopes. But my happiness was short lived. The second week, a letter
from the
Government came:
“We are sorry to inform you, but a
mistake has been made and the
Government of Canada cannot offer you the grant. Please try again when
you have
been granted the Canadian citizenship.”
“Yes, in about five years you mean!” I thought
to myself. Then, I
crashed.
With no money to continue the school, I was
back to scratch. Back
to…the truth is I had nothing to go back to. All the time I had
invested in
looking for a place, the money I have paid to move in, all my plans and
efforts, all my hopes were once again, down the drain.
At two o’clock in the morning, at minus ten
Celsius, I went walking
around the house, with tears pouring down my face feeling hopeless and
defeated.
Back home, I spent the rest of the night on the
floor, blubbering
like a child and wishing I would just die.
I had no money left, nowhere to go and no idea
what to do next.
If there was a God, He was definitely either on
holiday or on sick
leave. His replacement, if He had one, was not doing a very good job.
To make everything worse, I got very sick. So
sick that Robert
decided to call the ambulance. After spending a whole night at the
hospital, in
a wheelchair, too weak to move or to talk, shaking with fever, the
doctors
finally found some time to see me. I had pneumonia.
Scared, I called my mom’s cousin in Montreal
hoping to stay with her
for a few weeks until I would feel better. She listened to me,
pretending to
care, then she cut the conversation short and bluntly told me:
“My dear, it is your expedition, your
adventure, and I do not want
to have anything to do with it. Plus, I’m already late for a party and
I cannot
seem to find a pair of shoes to match my dress for tonight. Take care
of
yourself, dear.”
And that was all.
This was my mom’s cousin, always walking around
in
Is
more advisable than playing rummy.
But
if you don’t have it and ask the Gov
Good
luck to you my dear dove
What is the
secret of a successful career in life?
First, I thought it is all about having the
brains.
Then, somebody told me it is about having the
right paper.
In the end, I found out that more than anything
else, what you need
is passion, lots of it.
For now though, I was stuck at the “right
paper” phase. And, without
much luck in finding a job, I jumped at the first opportunity of going
back to
school.
After getting a student grant from the
government, I got accepted to
a college to study for paralegal. I marked the day on the happy
memories
calendar and called Robert.
“Yay! I have news, Robert!”
“Sounds like big news to me.”
“No big news, just baby steps. I’m still a baby,
so what do you
expect?”
“I’d say more of a babe than a baby.”
“Ha! I got the grant! I’ll study again!”
“Sweetie, that’s great! You’re great!”
And it was. Because the college was very far
from where I was living,
I had to move. And finding a new place was tricky. For an entire month,
each
day, I was knocking on doors, looking for a room to rent close to
school,
without any success. It was tiring, depressing and disheartening.
Finally, a week before the college started, an
Indian guy offered me
a room in a newly built house. But, when I went to see it, I found out
the
house was still under construction and so was the whole neighborhood.
The
nearest phone cabin was about fifteen-minutes walk, the bus stop about
half an
hour walk, as to the grocery shopping mall, it was yet to be built.
Lesson learned: If something sounds too good to
be true, then it
probably is.
But, when push comes to shove, there is not
much you can do or you
wouldn’t do. So, all alone, I moved out to my spooky, haunted house.
Robert and I celebrated the event on the beach, well
wrapped in our blankets ,
feeding a few Canadian geese, and hoping the worse was behind
me.
My first week of school was fun, full of
laughter, excitement and
new hopes. But my happiness was short lived. The second week, a letter
from the
Government came:
“We are sorry to inform you, but a
mistake has been made and the
Government of Canada cannot offer you the grant. Please try again when
you have
been granted the Canadian citizenship.”
“Yes, in about five years you mean!” I thought
to myself. Then, I
crashed.
With no money to continue the school, I was
back to scratch. Back
to…the truth is I had nothing to go back to. All the time I had
invested in
looking for a place, the money I have paid to move in, all my plans and
efforts, all my hopes were once again, down the drain.
At two o’clock in the morning, at minus ten
Celsius, I went walking
around the house, with tears pouring down my face feeling hopeless and
defeated.
Back home, I spent the rest of the night on the
floor, blubbering
like a child and wishing I would just die.
I had no money left, nowhere to go and no idea
what to do next.
If there was a God, He was definitely either on
holiday or on sick
leave. His replacement, if He had one, was not doing a very good job.
To make everything worse, I got very sick. So
sick that Robert
decided to call the ambulance. After spending a whole night at the
hospital, in
a wheelchair, too weak to move or to talk, shaking with fever, the
doctors
finally found some time to see me. I had pneumonia.
Scared, I called my mom’s cousin in Montreal
hoping to stay with her
for a few weeks until I would feel better. She listened to me,
pretending to
care, then she cut the conversation short and bluntly told me:
“My dear, it is your expedition, your
adventure, and I do not want
to have anything to do with it. Plus, I’m already late for a party and
I cannot
seem to find a pair of shoes to match my dress for tonight. Take care
of
yourself, dear.”
And that was all.
This was my mom’s cousin, always walking around
in
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