Things were getting a little tricky there for a while, but thanks to a last-minute, two-week long temping assignment, I will be able to pay the rent again thru March, so I've got another month to figure out what on earth I'm doing here.
The school where I had planned to begin my prerequisite science classes for nursing wouldn't authorize a student loan, so by the time I found a neighboring community college (which would cost me three times the amount as the local one but would at least allow me to get a loan), it was too late to register and get all the finances squared away. Thus, school has been put on hold until summer. In the meantime, I might as well audition for a play or two, I suppose. Maybe squeeze in a Second City class.
We're about halfway through winter now, and I'm officially starting to feel it. I really want to take a trip somewhere, and I do have a free ticket with Southwest Airlines that I'm planning to use for a little California excursion to visit friends. Then again, it's been nearly three years since I've been to Iceland, and rumor has it that one of my cousins is getting married in May, so that's just one of several reasons to go. Of course, the question isn't do I want to go but how to get funds. The Icelandic Association will be raffling off two tickets to Iceland at the Þorrablót, I wish I would win them. Well, come February 20th I'll see if my wish comes true.
The challenges of settling in a new place are starting to rear their ugly heads. I had a great week, and have been having lots of fun, but sometimes thoughts of escaping here or there, packing it all up and finding a different kind of adventure start fluttering around, especially when things like laundry have to be done. [cue "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac softly in the background] Will it ever be possible for me to set down some roots somewhere? I will obnoxiously answer my own question: Of course it will! I think I'm looking more for an inner something-or-other that makes me feel at peace, and then I'll stop wandering. Well, not totally stop, just try departing from and returning to the same place instead. That could be fun too. All right, enough public soul searching, pardon me while I just pluck my head out of my own rectum and soldier on. [cue record needle scratch sound. Music stops.]
I've made some cool new girl friends here through a coworker-turned-buddy, and have been having fun running amok with them around town on the weekends. In fact, tomorrow I'm cooking dinner for a mini-girls' night: Cuban "arroz con pollo," or chicken and rice. No, I've never made it before. No, I don't have the exact ingredients I need. Yes, I'm vaguely worried it will be a disaster. No, I'm not letting that stop me. If it's absolutely inedible I'm steps away from the illustrious Opart Thai and a few more steps away from the always jumping Chicago Brauhaus, depending on our mood. I also remember a tip one of my friends in DC taught me: "Just keep giving them booze and make them wait for hours for you to cook, and by the time the food is ready they'll be so hungry and so drunk that they'll gleefully scarf down whatever you put in front of them and ask for more." Or something to that effect. (Must remember to buy more rum tomorrow.)
What's that I hear? The buzzing of the dryer, oh what fun. Although, I will say laundry is light years more easy to do when it's a free washer inside the apartment instead of coughing up countless quarters and trekking up and down several flights of stairs like a Himalayan sherpa all night.