I, Husky

Well, that's it. I've registered for all my classes. Only took me 90 minutes!

*eye roll*

The highlight of the whole process was talking on the phone with someone in the registrar's office for 15 minutes before she said "Hold on, let me see if I can't find you someone who works here."

Whatever. I'm registered. Time to buy books.

#legitimatehusky

Hidden in Plain Sight

Spent all day today puzzling out my schedule for next semester. All day, swearing, jabbing at my keyboard and squinting at the screen. After sacrificing any hope of anything comfortable or ideal. I finally get something that looks like it might work for me. It's a compromise but *shrug* I'll take it.

And then I see it. An automatic scheduler. 

You plug in your courses, tell it when you can and can't (or will and won't) go to class and it work out several variations for you. 

Awesome. 

Wish my adviser had let me know about it.

'Doubt' Is Just Five Little Letters

For the record:

JCG: [interupting me] Nononono listen. Listen to me. This... what you're doing? This is a VERY. VERY. BAD. IDEA.

---

WEB: [groans] I think maybe that now isn't the best time. You'll be broke, out of work, deeper in debt, and still not have a degree. Then what? I mean I applaud you being a dreamer and it SOUNDS nice and... I know you think you have a plan. But you have no plan. How are you going to do this without a plan? Wait 2-3 years, THEN go back. Go back with a plan and some direction.

---

CBC: Drew. No. I'm sorry but that's a terrible idea.

---

DEJ: Drew, honey... this isn't a good thing. This isn't a good idea. I'm sorry. I'm telling you this because I love you. You know that right? I'm not trying to be mean. I hope you don't take it that way.

---

PDA: I think it's time you grew up. I think it's time you grew up and behaved like an adult. This is foolish... a foolish decision. And you're going to screw yourself.

_____________________________________________________

Never ceases to amaze me how mean and insensitive some people can be.

Three of the five of those people called me specifically to talk me out of going back to school. I brought it up with the other two in separate conversations and they each gave me a piece of their minds.

I'll admit. Every one of those conversations hurt my feelings. Everyone of them were discouraging as hell. I spent a long time rethinking my decision to head back to school, mulling over what each of them had said. And then I sat down and wrote "Thank You" letters to each of them.

I plan to mail them out after my graduation party.

The Hold Up

A student worker returned to the phone after having me on hold for 10 minutes. Then this happened:

UConnKyle: Drew?
Drew: It's still me. 
UConnKyle: Hi. I... so... we put together a financial aid package internally... I think that we'll... wait... it looks like... maybe... ok, I don't want to say something wrong.
Drew: Spit it out, Kyle.
UConnKyle: [sighs] I'm sorry. This is hard.
Drew: It's just math. Don't worry. I'm here for you.
UConnKyle: Ok.
Drew: [slowly and deliberately] Now, Kyle, if you would, please read me the numbers and figures on your screen.
UConnKyle: [pause] I... think I can do that.

#readingistricky
#numbersarehard
#howareyouincollege
#headdesk

Nothing

I have been saying for years that the ONLY reason I wasn't going back to school was money. And, barring the word "ONLY", that was mostly true. The whole truth was that there were a host of other very rational and reasonable fears and excuses that I had piled up and made myself comfortable on. And though I sat...

well ok...

though I LOUNGED upon them (gracelessly licking my paws and purring gently, as it were), agreeing with the arrangement of the universe and all therein, I was still unsatisfied.

Every now and then, I'd stand from my comfortable bed to cast glances out the window. I'd daydream about finishing what I started. I'd imagine the late-nights and eye strain and unreasonable TAs and bogus deadlines and I'd want it even more. I'd open the window and let the air in. I'd smile, feeling the phantom promise of something like pride tugging at my heart. Sometimes, I'd even take a step or two away from the bed. But then I'd go back to my excuses - my very reasonable and rational fears and excuses - and get comfortable, yawning and stretching, complaining about the temperature of my milk.

The truth is, when you've been sitting (ok, ok, LOUNGING) for as long as I have, even something as simple as standing takes a lot of effort. When you've grown to be as precious and particular as I have, the thought of even a minor change in routine is offensive - scandalous, even. And, as much as I didn't like to think of myself as pampered and passive, I had to admit that I was, even if rationally and reasonably so.

One day, as I stood to take my step (or two) I thought of all the other times I had tried to fool myself in this very same way - padding about in a circle and calling it progress. And when I thought of the papers and the research and study groups, the phantom feelings that came with the fantasy seemed foreign and improbable, just as they had every time before. Just as I had every time before, I talked myself out of doing anything. I had so many very reasonable and rationale reasons NOT to do anything.

The real world is comfortable, practical, and more or less predictable. I know what's expected of me. I have a routine. I go here. I do this at this time and that at that time (never at THIS time). I'm prepared. I'm organized. I am steady and settled. I'm reasonable and responsible. I'm a happy cog in a most glorious and very satisfying machine. 

I can't possibly go back to school. I have so much going on! Look at my life! Look at all of this stuff! Look at all of these things! There's no room for more stuff (let alone things!)! 

And, besides, it's neat! Look at how neat and organized this is! I can't imagine having to rearrange all of this into something that works even half as well. It took me YEARS of trial and error to get everything just so! And, here I am, everything working and clicking and processing thus, bonded and insured and as adventurous as plain oatmeal.

Healthy, nutritious, colon-sweepingly delicious oatmeal.

Well... delicious to a point. Once one gets used to it. 

And that's what grown-ups do. Rather, that's what RESPONSIBLE grown-ups do. We eat our vegetables. We say please and thank you. We go to work and are thankful for the privilege. We save our dreams for the end of the day with our pillows. We do the safe and right and good things, because that's what grown-ups do. That's what separates us from children. 

That's what makes us grown-ups. 

And yet...

I remain full of "what ifs?". I remain tantalized and enticed by possibility. And I can't help wondering how miserable I'd be if I kept on this path - this comfortable predictable path - and stopped dreaming. And never gave myself a chance to try while I'm still young enough to fail and recover. 

I'm sure that life would be OK, even WONDERFUL in some ways. But I'd always wonder. Forever. And that's no way to live.

So, here I go: nervous, excited, motivated, hungry, curious, and a little ignorant. And, if I fail, so what! At least I'll know, right?

And if I don't fail, maybe I'll get to make a few of my dreams come true. 

Is it worth the risk?

*shrug* I'll let you know on the other side.

Here goes nothing...


Drew