Tag Archives: immigration

The art of fretting

5 Jul

Waiting. We do a lot of it – the checkout at the grocery store; at the restaurant when we don’t have reservations; the clinic where there’s a waiting room for the waiting room; in traffic; everywhere. Every time we have to do it, the seconds seem agonizing, as if our hearts are being squeezed into the size of a pea; our feet or fingers rapping a staccato rhythm, willing time to speed up.

This desire to speed things becomes ambivalent when dread is involved.

Dread is to fear greatly; be in extreme apprehension of

Dread might be an exaggeration when waiting for a US visa interview but I think it applies in my case. So, when I was waiting for my interview on Monday, June 27th, I was ambivalent about speeding things up so that it will be my turn:

  • I’m always afraid that I will be judged before I open my mouth; after all I have been denied 2 US visas in the past, have tried to apply as an Immigrant – these things tend to be glaring red flags
  • I was in extreme pain due to an infection and I really wanted to get it over with
  • There is hope in the yet-to-happen; in uncertainty and damn it, I wanted to keep hoping
  • I wanted to get to Window x because I was told by a fellow wait-ee that the other window was brusque with her

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T minus 4 days

24 Jun

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I made a joke to a friend today that since I scheduled a US visa interview for Monday, the 27th, the rest of my life has come to a screeching halt. Bless her heart for coming back with “Do not stress about anything, not worth it” and Ecclesiastes 3:

1 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

2 a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
6 a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

I have not gone to church in a long time to the sorrow of my devout Baptist family but I can’t deny the soothing effect of these words. Not that I need a several-thousand-year old book to tell me that, yes, there is a time for everything – a time to for my husband to get his MBA or not, a time for me to visit the US again or not, a time to stay in Canada or not – but the lyrical words, defining the opposites of each event, seem so certain and full of wisdom.

But for now, I find that I could barely update this blog, comment on so much exciting tech talk and events, much less look at fashion to add to my favorite things. So, pardon my silence while I calm myself down enough for that interview.

Courage. Hope. Believe. Life does not begin and end with one approval or rejection from immigration (Darn, except it kind of does, doesn’t it? If you’re like me, you know the ebb and flow of emotions around immigration papers). Sorry, I got distracted. Again. Courage. Hope…..

One hurdle down

3 Jun

I avoided talking about immigration for quite awhile now. It has been my proverbial elephant in the room and as massive as its effect is, was and will be, I skirted around it, I ignored it even when its paws had me on its grips on those sleepless nights.

So, when I came home last Friday, May 27th, after a bunch of errands to find a hastily scrawled sign of “Welcome to Canada!” from D., pinned by a nice bottle of Cabernet, I was puzzled. More than that, I was alarmed that D. just grabbed the nearest piece of paper which happened to be a resolution authorizing him to sign all tax related documents in behalf of the company.

When he told me, my mind was blank. And sternly told him, “Please don’t joke about things like that.” It turned out to be true, of course as I later confirmed with his mom who received our mail. But I held off telling family and friends, wanting to see the document firsthand and also knowing that it was just a document saying I can enter Canada as an immigrant. I still have to solidify my permanent residence at the border; which meant spending money to go all the way to the Philippines (or somewhere) since I don’t hold a US visa, as convenient as that would have been.

I think D’s mom was more excited than I was, presenting us with champagne glasses for a nice bottle of Clicquot. Sure enough, it was an immigrant visa to enter Canada, which is what happens when you choose to process the permanent resident card outside of Canada.

A curious thing on the letter, something that I didn’t read about Continue reading