Abyss

Another obstacle, another break, another set of bad news. My head hurts, will this ever end? Will we ever heard good news? I am just exhausted, want to crawl into a ball, pull over my blankets, cry until my eyes hurt and never get up from the bed.

It's like a never ending cycle of depression. It's persistent, awful and atrocious. My heart keeps breaking into pieces and I feel more out of touch sometimes, no matter how hard I try. Every morning Everyday I wake up, go through my rituals and the necessities of being alive. But there is a harrowing hole in my chest, that keeps growing bigger. I feel hallow, emptied and vacant. I can't seem to be interested in anything. I go through the motions of smiling, greeting, caring, answering and asking questions of pretending that there is absolutely nothing wrong even though my whole world is caving underneath my very feet and I have no idea where I will be falling.

I've been rejected from everything, so much that it feels as if, I am condemned and forgotten. No matter what I hold dear, what I painstakingly nurture, crumbles to ashes in my very own small palms, with nothing but burn marks left. The scars to remind. At this point, everything seems to go negative, everything seems like a challenge. At the end of the day, I don't even want to come back home, because it no longer feels like a home. Our home has become a storage room for our boxes. There is a little less than a month left, and I can't wait to move into our new apartment. There is literally, only that left we're counting on.

Writing Again

To be writing again is strange. The only thing that comes to mind is of two subjects and two subjects alone. It either has to be about that time in June, or the past several months in the Winter that I was severely depressed.

I choose to write about the latter for my own sanity. The wounds are far too fresh for me to coherently write something and not be effected by it under any circumstance. The other is more manageable, controllable and I believe I will even benefit if I were to analyze and write a story about this. I am not sure what I will do with the story eventually, however, it is better than not writing at all.

I live to write and writing is as essential as eating, sleeping, excreting waste and taking care of other bodily needs. It is also one of the most dangerous things I can do to myself. It is lethal where it can either make or break me. I tie my misfortunes, mistakes and inability to grasp ideas, life, people with if I am writing, or writing enough or not. Crazy, huh?

After a long pause though, it's great to be writing fiction again.

The Art of Indie Publishing Class

Today is my second class of E publishing class. Whoever taught this was easy, well, kindly reconsider that opinion of yours.

I don't know how much I will concretely and actually benefit from this class in the long run and in an immediate manner. However it has given me some tools to think about the path I want to take as a writer for the upcoming year. It has renewed a passion, brought about new routes to explore and take upon on my journey as a weary writer. Who isn't in this profession, sister? Having options and a sort of plan where you can do something to walk towards your life long goal, dream is encouraging, refreshing and something that damn well makes me happy. I feel like I have actually started moving again, instead of stagnating where I have been as the Ottoman Empire's last century before destruction and oblivion.

The little steps that matter, this has to be one of them, this opportunity right here, right now. I am just not sure how much of the information disseminated here can be actually understood due to the nature of the instructor. She is so hyper and all over the place. It's going to be a lot of research time for me after this class, definitely. Do I feel that it was worth my money? No. But it is a great start for me, so I am not going to complain.

Coming to a close

Today is the last day of my Fiction Writing class. It's bitter because, well, I am a pout and like to rain on everybody's parade. Simply, if I wanted to pay for having the time to write, I could have done so. I would have created a writer's group where we could pay to read our writings.

But then again, I am glad having gotten the ability to go back to writing, without strings attached and having to worry about turning my unpolished work for a grade. Besides, we've been so busy with so much that, I barely got the time to hand in several pages of a story and two character sketches. Though, on a personal level it has done me a great deal of therapy.

But I was hoping for a far more structured, informative, planned ahead, with serious homework load, class time preserved for instruction and different writing exercises that would kick start any levels motivation and also imagination. I also work better with unmovable due dates, grave attitude and serious atmosphere where consequences are made real and heavy with a structured, organized lesson plans. I learn the best that day.

I am glad I began and finished this class even though it felt a bit of a waste of my time. I was able to recognize several things about myself, personality and mind working ways, as well as about myself as a writer and had a lens poking through about me, my work in depth. I am glad to see all my work of the previous years has had a cumulative effect on my writing. The level of my writing has seriously been upgraded. The stories I am able to imagine and capable of sketching out, flushing out, characterizing has also become somewhat more sophisticated.

Even these things are worthy enough to recognize, though I did not need to pay 70 dollars to see it.

At least I feel like I've taken the first step towards becoming a professional writer that I have been hesitating, and had no idea where to begin. I feel like, I am one step closer and that I could actually do this. To feel an impossible dream is one step closer to becoming improbable is a lift to my heavy curtained heart.

Background

The more research we have been doing, checking out the discussion forums. There is a pattern. I was really hoping that me being a citizen would change everything, but it doesn't seem to effect anyone but the couple living through the ordeal. Everyone else, couldn't possibly care any less. It just is not humanly possible.
I do not think it is possible to achieve our dream: Finish our education, gain experience, change S's visa status into a naturalized citizen and then go back to Turkey. I am desperately hoping the lawyer will say something else entirely.

Free Consultation

I've found it. I've found the only lawyer alive that gives out free consultations time to time.

I wouldn't have done this two years ago and say that I must pay my dues, when they are due. As you can tell from the context of the previous sentence, I've changed. I am much less shy about these things, much more out going and a lot less embarrassed to ask for things, especially free things. Of course never in the manner that would ever diminish my pride or hurt my self esteem, even bruise my confidence. I have no qualms about citing my problems and using them to generate the right reaction so that I can get what is either a) legally what I deserve or b) a more favorable answer, i.e yes, I can give you a free consultation. You don't ask, you won't receive. Though, make no mistake, you have to do plenty to get that one free thing. Don't let this make you think you can get everything, anything for free, simply because you ask.

Happy 46th, Mom

Today is my mother's 46th birthday.

To the most amazing human being on earth with a wonderful soul and a strong heart, who has never yielded to pressure, or societal pressures, always marching to her own drum, never knowing when to give up, the hardest worker, with the most passionate spirit on earth. To an extraordinary woman, where none like her exist.

Happy birthday and to many, many more with all your wishes gradually turning into reality, one by one.

I love you, Mom.