cracked heelLook at that, itís past 4:00am again. This is becoming a habit. Iíve always been a night person, but I canít get into this cycle again.
Must be normal.
I didnít wake up in time to make an appointment at the community health center. I jolted up around 9:00am, but it was too late, all the appointments had been taken for the week. So much for the whole idea of a day without illegal immigrants.
And, that wasnít racist.
Itís just that my father had to come here with proper permission, along with every other legal immigrant. Which included learning the National Anthem, in English, and more of the Constitution than most natural citizens know. What makes them so special that they donít? Thatís all Iím asking.
Oh, and he doesnít go around waving the German flag or have it plastered all over his car. Cause heís an American now, and heís proud of it.
I have a friend from India (Iím a sucker for accents I tell you) and heís here on a work visa. And he pays taxes. And never gets any of it back. When he told me that I was stunned; Iím not sure why, though.
Ok, enough of my soapbox, semi-informed, piss everyone off rant. Iíve been listening to way too much AM radio.
Iím having lunch with my legal immigrant father tomorrow, then Iím going to try to squeeze in a pedicure before class. My left heel is cracked and itís really painful.
Then Iím going to go to my Linear Algebra class and stare dreamily at my legal immigrant teacher.
Then Iím going to dream about him because my little crush is turning into a sick obsession. Heís 40 and married for Christ sake.