What Was I Thinking?!
Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I was doggedly focused on indemnifying my life a few months ago. I wanted to fix everything possible that was smashed, broken, and unrealized in the last few years…expeditiously. I was moving fast with blinders on. I really wish someone had snatched me back by my underwear to get my attention. There is the distinct possibility that in my ambitious effort to make up for two lost semesters at school, I may have thrown myself into the deep end of the pool without so much as Dollar Store floaties. Damn.
I was so excited 3 months ago to take a Strength In Color class and finish the last of my English requirements (in an effort to make my posts a bit more lively…see, it was for you my readers). By the time Spring semester came to a close I was desperately crawling, nay, dragging myself across the finish line by my elbows. Ah, the sweet oasis of summer break. Oasis my ass. It was more like a mirage. In all of my Semper Fi, do or die, attitude towards school I signed up for summer classes.
Please don’t interpret my reality check moment as a disdain for my choice. It is rather a mild regret in the form of banging my head against the wall in stupidity thinking I have super powers beyond my mortal body that is SCREAMING for a break. “Shannon please, you have been through so much stress and trauma that you resemble a molting chicken. Do you think maybe, perhaps, you could cut the moter long enough to regroup?”, I say to myself. I jubilently reply,”Sure, that is why you are only taking two classes in the fall and following spring semesters instead of three. As a bonus, I will not sign you up for classes next summer.” This is supposed to quell the panic which will segue into resignation. All I can think in response to myself is a flat, “Thanks.”
These two classes were supposed to be “light” classes. Just some nice get through summer on a tropical breeze classes. Maybe throw in some steel drum classes for atmosphere. I checked in today. In the quiet of the living room I distinctly heard the screeching of wheels while metal, glass, and plastic crumpled and shattered against a wall of said panic. Are those breaks I can smell? The workload is intense. If I were an English professor or a Fine Arts major, I might be able to sail through this summer; Pina Colada in one hand and shrimp cocktail in the other. In reality, it will resemble a human mule yolked up to an academic plow.
Wish me luck folks. It won’t be enough but it will be a great start. Did I mention that because it summer fifteen weeks of education are crammed into the wee ity bity box of seven weeks? That is a 1:2 ratio for all of you math majors out there. For the rest of us that means for every one week of school I get to do two weeks worth of work per class. I really love going 6omph in second gear. Focus will be my only hope.