Picture this: the dragon has gum disease. It is big and gilded and resplendent--I mean, come on, it's a dragon--but it hasn't been a good dragon and, contrary to its mother, ignored certain dietary requirements, and now has gum disease. So when the dragon grasps me in its mouth, and the world goes dark and stinky (dragons don't brush their teeth either), I--exhausted--was able to yank out just one tooth and create barely enough space for me to crawl out and come back to you, my readers.
Boston University is applied to, and Emerson and Bike and Build before it. Despite exhausting work, and many cogs to fit into each wheels, congregation members kindly share their internet with me, not minding my frenzy; my dad does all of the paperwork that I, in our limited access to technology, cannot do from across the pond; Miriam and Jim are encouraging and steadfast; and Ryan puts up with me throughout it all, even yesterday when I had to tell a 9-photo short story about disillusionment: he played the just broken-up and left protagonist, looking for any sign of where his vixen had gone, but there was no trace...
So the dragon may now be tamed, or it may run free. I hope it will be tamed, and I will be able to enter film school in the fall, but if not, I'll find another dragon, almost get eaten by it, and emerge victorious, and you all will be along for the ride, the magnificent creature sillhouetted by the horizon and a rising sun as we soar over this world.
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