Being a full-time college student has been a blessing. It has reawakened my creaky brain and widened parameters and reignited my love for education. Three semesters in, I’m doing better than I expected. Not that I expected to do badly, but it has been thirty-something years since I was last a student and I wasn’t exactly sure how it was going to go.
One of the drawbacks has been the lack of time and brain cells to write creatively the way my heart craves. I miss it so much I can’t describe it. I also miss reading, which goes alongside the creative writing by feeding into it in ways textbooks just can’t mimic. My stack of to-read books is toppling off my nightstand and begging serious attention.
Steve and Rosie are out shopping tonight. I was politely but decisively left alone at home, which isn’t so bad I guess considering 1. I love being at home alone, 2. there might be some shopping for something I shouldn’t see, and 3. I have a pulled muscle in my back and would likely slow them down considerably.
So here I sit, trying to remember how to write sentences I don’t have to submit by a deadline for a grade.
I see writing challenges here and there, like the “letters to something-year-old me” and I long to dive in and write, but I’ve somehow lost my gumption for the kind of writing that involves my heart, my soul, dare I say my opinion as though anyone outside a couple of people cares how I feel or what I believe on any topic, really. I think I’m still holding onto the outlandish notion that somehow, someday, someone besides my immediate family is going to care about my printed words.
Like last year, I’ve been mulling over my “Word” for the coming new year. Last year I gave up on it entirely until about halfway through January when I clearly received the word “Aware”. I have to say, that one has been a doozy. I had no idea at the time what it would come to mean. Now I know. It has been a bittersweet unfolding. I’m a little scared to ask for next year’s little gem.
One of the biggest happies here at semester’s end for me is the fact that my statistics class didn’t kill me. I was sure it would, or at least leave me horribly maimed. I can’t begin to word how much work it took outside of class to grasp the material well enough to get an A in that class, and let me just say that I still feel giddy every time I recall that it’s over.
Next semester I will be taking six classes, during which I will be taking my first teaching certification test, culminating in the earning of my Associates in Arts degree and then official entry into the College of Education in the fall, so my word for 2016 needs to fit because I’m going to need a good one.
A Beautiful Life 