I may have mentioned that I'm lazy.
It's not that I don't enjoy projects, work, staying busy, et al. It's just that I like doing those things because I WANT to do them rather than because I have to. I spent a lot of my life doing things I have to do, and now I enjoy doing things because they're fun.
Laundry is a bit behind, for obvious reasons.
I drove to St Paul for my children's writing class on Thursday. I sat in the parking lot studying, and by "studying," I mean "looking at picture books and reading the accompanying text book about why picture books are important." I finished brushing up on everything necessary for my class, and I still had 45 minutes to sit around.
I wondered, then, if I wanted to spend 12 hours a week thinking about, writing, and analyzing books for young children, or if I'd prefer to spend those 12 hours at home with my family, out with friends, drinking beer and working up the courage to rip out the cabinets in my bathroom.
I realized this class was going to suck.
I got in my car and drove home.
On the way, I called Gray and said, "Yeah, so I just dropped out of school."
His response? "You went back to school because you wanted to. Because it was fun for you. You were doing this for YOU. If it's no longer something you enjoy, then you don't need to be there."
EUREKA! Higher education is all about me, especially in my case, because I don't intend on using my English degree for work, nor do I plan to continue on towards a graduate degree. Gray is right: I returned to school because it was interesting to me, and because I wanted the tuition money.
I'm at the point now where I'd prefer to spend my time in other ways, and so rather than continue to rack up student loan debt, I've decided to throw in the proverbial towel. At least for now.
I partly blame my brain pain. That semi-near-death experience made me view everything in my life differently, from my relationships with Gray and friends and family, to the way I approach my life. That stupid fall down the stairs changed my life, both in good ways and in bad. And I'm starting to take to heart what my husband has been trying to teach me for years: "Do you."
He's been telling me (for as long as I know him) that I spent enough of my life taking care of other people.
He's been trying to show me how to put myself first.
He's been giving myself to me.
So, in summary, now that you've vomited all over your keyboard from the sappy shit above, I'm not going back to school this fall. Instead, I'm going to read for pleasure. I'm going to write because I have something I want to say. I'm going to make plans on Thursday nights and not worry about making excuses to my professor. I'm going to travel. In fact, I'm hoping to visit my BlogHer '10 bitches in Salt Lake City this fall.
I'm going to do me.