Two down, one is late

One of the two letters have arrived.

And the top choice in programs for next year has rejected me.

So that leaves only the program that was my third choice… who was also supposed to send letters this week, but which haven’t arrived yet.

Maybe it’s best I don’t know before finals week if the past year has been for nothing anyway.

I suppose “nothing” is a big word. I know there are some positive growth things that have come of it either way… and I still feel like this is what I was supposed to do, even if it doesn’t end up leading anywhere further after this.

Wish I had more of that same on what plan B is if the result is no though.

Either way… I’ve done what I can do.

Left with me and the trio again. Waiting, Hoping, Praying.

Trying to evict the twins of fear and worry. They never seem to help much.


Can I scream yet?

So, it’s the week before finals.

My laptop cord died last week…. the night before the big interview with one of the two departments for next year… which I remembered an hour before needed a print out of my current grade.

Letters should be arriving this week… as to whether or not I get into the programs for next year, or have to come up with a plan b.

On top of finishing end of semester stuff and getting ready for finals.

And adding in the stress of not having my computer, and getting by with computer lab and my phone.

This is a very long week.

But at least soon I’ll know one way or the other.

Reading… nothing.

As this condition becomes more fully established, you will be gradually freed from the tiresome business of providing Pleasures as temptations. As the uneasiness and his reluctance to face it cut him off more and more from all real happiness, and as habit renders the pleasures of vanity and excitement and flippancy at once less pleasant and harder to forgo (for that is what habit fortunately does to a pleasure) you will find that anything or nothing is sufficient to attract his wandering attention. You no longer need a good book, which he really likes, to keep him from his prayers or his work or his sleep; a column of advertisements in yesterday’s paper will do. You can make him waste his time not only in conversation he enjoys with people whom he likes, but in conversations with those he cares nothing about on subjects that bore him. You can make him do nothing at all for long periods. You can keep him up late at night, not roistering, but staring at a dead fire in a cold room. All the healthy and outgoing activities which we want him to avoid can be inhibited and nothing given in return, so that at last he may say, as one of my own patients said on his arrival down here, “I now see that I spent most of my life in doing neither what I ought nor what I liked”. The Christians describe the Enemy as one “without whom Nothing is strong”. And Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man’s best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whistling tunes that he does not like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them a relish, but which, once chance association has started them, the creature is too weak and fuddled to shake off.

You will say that these are very small sins; and doubtless, like all young tempters, you are anxious to be able to report spectacular wickedness. But do remember, the only thing that matters is the extent to which you separate the man from the Enemy. It does not matter how small the sins are provided that their cumulative effect is to edge the man away from the Light and out into the Nothing. Murder is no better than cards if cards can do the trick. Indeed the safest road to Hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts.

from the screwtape letters by cs lewis. but can we say internet?