Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Time to panic about school

I woke up this morning and realized HOLY SHIT I START SCHOOL IN LIKE...OMG I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHEN I START SCHOOL.

I'm notorious for pretending not to remember just long enough that I have exactly zero days left to buy my books and, usually, all kinds of plans I have to cancel because CHRIST. SCHOOOOOOL.

I am way out of practice. Last fall, I was registered for a humanities class and a literature class (I think...) and I made it half way through he semester before breaking open my skull and spending a few unconscious weeks, after which I was verboten by my neurologists to read or write or even freaking watch TV. I had to drop the classes.

Then spring semester, it was highly recommended I not return yet to classes because I was still in occupational therapy and just returning to work part time. I spent most days trying to stay awake and avoid passing out from the strain of sitting upright for a few hours.

Summer semester? I just didn't fucking feel like going to school.

So here we are, back at the beginning of fall, and I have no more excuses, especially as far as the student loan companies are concerned, so it's either continue working towards my semi-pointless degree in English...or start paying off my student loans.

Which...did ya'll know if you spend eleventy million years in school because you can't decide what to do and you have to work full time (sometimes more) that by the end of it, if you stacked up your loans like a block tower, you'd need the biggest fucking Godzilla baby in the world to begin knocking it over?

So yeah. Schooooool.

I'm taking children's literature and writing children's literature, so they should go nicely together, but it did occur to me I'll have to seriously cut back on my use of the word Fuck.

I'll also have to begin driving to St Paul every week, which is by far the least fun part of my upper-division classes because the coursework at this point is all pretty entertaining and challenging, but the driving? LORD, the driving. It's so faaaaar. And the classes are three-and-a-half hours long. By the time I get home from St. Paul on class nights, it's officially waaay past my little old lady bedtime.

On the upside, expect many posts about procrastination in the near future.