Hm. I don't FEEL like a College Student yet...

...although the financial aid debt load I just incurred assures me I am. But while I don't feel like a college student, I sure as hell feel smarter than I did 3 days ago! Sadly, that’s not because I learned a staggering amount of information this week, but because compared to the kids surrounding me in my first two classes, (and the first two instructors I met), I'm a flippin' GENIUS! I have never seen so much apathy and pathetic disinterest so densely concentrated in one room since.....well, since the last time I got naked in front of a date...but that's a story for another day.

Just 4 days shy of my 45th birthday, I embarked on my collegiate journey this week. I've sooo been looking forward to this, all summer long. I enrolled last April, made plans, asked advice, purchased books, even rearranged my home to create a quiet study nook...I hungered for learning, and expanding my mind. I had visions of raging debates over WEIGHTY AND IMPORTANT ISSUES! I yearned for wild-eyed professors, thumping fists against blackboards, frothing at the mouth, shouting heretofore undiscovered truths for my eager mind to absorb. These visions inspired me to forge ahead despite great trepidation over my cripplingly advance age. Would my age-addled brain be able to grasp new concepts? Would I fit in with the cool kids? Would the chairs be big enough for my fat ass? All grave concerns, but the fire of my desire for higher learning could not be doused! Damn the Torpedoes, Full Speed Ahead!

So much energy wasted worrying and wondering and imagining...all for naught. If it weren't so pathetic it would be funny.

Yesterday evening, I walked into the first class of my shiny new college career. I actually had butterflies in my stomach. I knew there would be many young people, but I dared to hope I wouldn't be the OLDEST person there. Not only was I the oldest student, I was also older than the instructor. (I’m betting the ink on her birth certificate isn’t even dry yet, never mind the ink on her degree!)

Despite my fervor, even I knew this course, entitled “Creating College Success”, was a gimme. Just a revenue stream for the institution. I suppose I can’t fault them for that. But still, I imagined eager and bright individuals ready to give discourse and to opine…instead there were colored folders and Crayola markers. Seriously. And just in case you were wondering, apparently the key to success in college is journaling. Huh! WHO KNEW?!

There was a self-assessment test, comprised of 64 statements to which we assigned a numeric value from 0 to 10 to indicate how strongly we agreed or disagreed. This was designed to help us discover our strengths and weaknesses. Notice I said “self” assessment. One kid leaned over to another and said, “Dude, I’m copying off of you!”. I guess he didn’t like his own assessment! How in the hell do you copy someone else on a self assessment? Please! Afterwards, we were to add up our scores by adding up the numbers in groups of 4. One kid actually pulled out his calculator because it was just too difficult. I SHIT YOU NOT! Then the instructor gave us our homework for next week. We were to read pages 18 to 21 in the textbook. Mind you, I said pages 18 to 21, not chapters, pages. I heard a kid behind me say, “Whoa! Dude!” I spun around expecting Spicoli from Fast Times at Ridgemont High! I thought he was joking! He was not. He was indignant. I’m thinking “DUDE! It’s FOUR FREAKIN’ PAGES and you have 7 DAYS TO GET IT DONE!!” I came home last night utterly disappointed, devastated and bereft of dreams, clinging desperately to a small dying ember of hope. Hope that tonight’s class, a REAL college course - Sociology101 - would redeem and restore. Alas ‘twas not to be.

Tonight, in Sociology, we went over the syllabus, and when finished the instructor asked US if we thought we should we stay or go home! I thought perhaps he might be conducting a Social Experiment, after all this was Sociology. At the very least a trick question to separate the slackers from the studious, to see who’d say stay and who’d say go. One girl said, “I vote ‘GO’ after I ask a question”. She asked her question, he answered and then SENT US HOME. I nearly fainted from the massive blood loss as the color drained from my face. My eager anticipation turned to slack-jawed horror when I realized he was serious. “I’VE BEEN ROBBED”, my mind screamed! “WHERE’S MY DEBATING? WHERE’S MY SOAKING UP KNOWLEDGE? WHERE’S MY GODDAMN BOOK-LARNIN’!!!! AAAARGH!”

What a sad state of affairs. Have the instructors sucked up apathy by osmosis? Did they ever give a crap at all, or was the caring beat out of them by the endless, shuffling, staring horde of non-responsive, catatonic teenagers who rotate through these classes, willing to do just enough to get a passing grade. Not necessarily there to learn, just to get a passing grade. In both classes, while reviewing the syllabus, more than one student asked questions like: “When you say paragraph, how many sentences do you require?” “If I journal for extra credit, how many lines do I need to write every day? Will three lines do? Is that three LINES or three SENTENCES?” God save us, these Twittering zombies are going to be our doctors, our teachers, our politicians. I’m grateful I’m half in my grave already, because I am afraid for our future.

I am, however, thrilled about all of the blog content I shall amass during the next four years. This is going to rock entirely. I thought I’d stick out like a (fat) sore thumb because of my age, but it looks like I’m going to stick out because I’m not afraid of SENTENCES. Woot!

Hmm. Turns Out God's Stronger than I Thought.

I have been fighting and fighting to exert my will over my own life, and the universe just keeps pushing me back. These last few months it’s been shocking how many things have gone wrong, how many of my plans get turned upside down. Every path blocked, every idea shot down, every obstacle pretty durn near to the edge of my ability to scale it. Relentless disappointment, mean-spirited people saying mean-spirited things to me, every plan I’ve made in the last two months has been changed or abandoned due to circumstances I can’t control. But I’m tenacious. (You might call it stubborn.) I don’t back down easily. I don’t cave in without a damn good fight.

I won’t go into a litany of things that have gone wrong, but I will tell you tonight was the last straw. The very last thing that was working right – stopped.

And while I sat waiting for the tow truck, I was nearly in shock. I could not believe the car died. Right there in the middle of the road. The one thing I could count on: my trusty Nissan Minivan. We were idling at the light, and it just…died. Quit. Wouldn’t start up again. No reason. No reason other than to fuck with my head. I just turned inward and asked “Why? WHAT is the universe trying to tell me? Why am I being blocked at every turn? Why is every plan being stripped away, and every support kicked out from under me?” I cursed the universe for being so Goddamn un-yielding, for pushing and pushing, and cock-blocking me at every turn.

And when I said to myself it IS too strong, I CAN’T fight, I finally got it! I finally understood. God WANTS me to stop moving, stop thinking, stop planning, stop struggling, stop fighting to exert my will, and just shut-up and LISTEN.

And an awesome thing happened. The moment, I mean the very moment, I thought to myself, “Ok, that’s it. I’m going to stop everything for 7 days. I’m going to just go with the flow. I’m not going to think, or stress, or plan, or control, or want. I’m going to stop and listen.” I felt a relaxing in my head. I can’t explain it, but I literally FELT the tension drain from my face, from my jaw. I felt a smile coming on. I felt like a vise was being loosened from around my chest.

So in effect, I did throw up my hands and give up, just like I wished for in my last post. I have reached that point where I just don’t know what to do next. I can’t do it anymore. I opted out of the nervous breakdown, though, and decided instead to “Let go and Let God”. Just to see what happens. Obviously He was working very hard to get my attention. So I’m listening. It likely won’t be anything earth-shattering. Probably won’t even make sense to anyone but me.

It’s like I’m being told to “await further instructions”. So I’ll wait. 7 days.

Crazy: Weighing the Pros and Cons of the Modern Nervous Breakdown.

(I originally posted this last Monday, the 15th of June, and then got up in the middle of the night to delete it because I thought it was just a little too close to the red zone on the crazy meter. But I'm going to post it now, because it's gotten just soooo much worse since then!!) Here goes:

Wouldn't it be a delicious relief to calmly lie down on the floor, in the middle of a crowded room, and just give up? Just say, "I can't do it anymore. I'm NOT doing it anymore. Someone else needs to steer the ship, because I......(pause for effect).....am heading straight for the iceberg." Perhaps, just to drive home the point extra convincingly, I could do this while wearing a pair of giant, white Mickey Mouse gloves...and nothing else.

What divine peace awaits on the other side of the crazy barrier?

Think about it! How luxurious it would be to throw up one's hands, and relinquish all responsibility. Lying in a hospital bed, curled into a comfy fetal postion, watching TV. No more worrying about all the things everyone else needs from me. Don’t have to worry about paying bills, or trying to make a living, don’t have to worry about my dogs, or losing 100 lbs, or health insurance, or what my hair looks like, or how to get rid of the ants and crickets in the back yard, or maintaining the one car we have, or how I'm going to get my father-in-law to his doctor appointment without pissing off my boss. Hell - there'd be no more worrying about pleasing my boss at all! Maybe if I just go stark, raving, apeshit, face-twitching crazy - he'll see one person can't do 3 people's jobs.

No more decisions. No more feeling guilty because no matter how much I do, there's twice as much NOT done. No more taking care of anything, or anyone, the state would have to take care of ME! No trying to figure out what to fix for dinner that will please everyone in my super-picky family. No need to decide what to make MYSELF for dinner - nurses would bring me food! And the dishes would be magically whisked away, ELSEWHERE, to be washed.

I wouldn’t even have to get up to use the bathroom...they've invented BEDPANS! YEAH!!!!

I would be deliciously medicated and numb. Cruising Stonerville all day long. Modern medicine has given us a cornucopia of mind-erasing drugs. Maybe if I'm crazy enough, they'll double my dosage. The twitching and drooling would slowly ease, to be replaced by tranquility, a vacant stare and a vapid smile. You would think I'm looking at you, but I'm really asleep with my eyes open. I wouldn't even know you're there, let alone care.

Ahh, blissfull, worry-free, breakdown-induced craziness. I would have all the troubles, drama and responsibilities of a vegetable.

The downside? I'd BE a vegetable.

That's a big downside.

So I suppose, if this were an actual conversation with someone, this is where they'd say, "That which doesn't kill us serves to make us stronger", or, "God doesn't give us a heavier load than we can bear". That IS a load. Of crap. Sometimes I need to be the not-so-strong one.

Yeah, yeah, I know...yadda, yadda, yadda, I am woman, hear me roar. Just please listen carefully, and know the difference between a roar of triumph, and a wail of despair.