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Movin’ on.

June 25, 2011

I had a professor who said that a lot, like right after she skipped 20 pages that would of course be on the next test.  She would drag out the “O,” pronouncing it “moooooovin’ on!”  She would scan the class for objections, gratified to note that every.single.one.of.them. was either looking at Facebook on a laptop or asleep.   And she would move right on, you betcha.

So Journalism class is over, and I have mixed emotions about it.  It’s true that I rejoice when ANY class is over, because by the last week of finishing the never-ending scut work and trying to mind-read which of the several correct answers the professor will decide is the only acceptable one on the exam, I’m pretty much over it.  Add to that the never-ending screwups by Financial Aid, and I am dreaming of  running away to Key West and living out of my car, panhandling to survive.  To be honest, I’m sure I would make more money that way than graduating with a degree.  But we’ll pretend I’m full of youthful enthusiasm and naivete, and have no idea of any of that.  Movin’ on.

I really enjoyed the Journalism class and the professor because he didn’t spend his time forcing us to memorize busy-work out of a book:  instead, he taught us how to make a blog and publish on it and taught us what Journalism is really like, when all the sparkly hoopla is pulled off it.  He  left me excited over something, and I assure you that’s a rarity for me these days.  These years, really.  (My World Religions prof was good, too, and her cross-country motorcycle trip/chainsaw massacre paranoia is well worth taking her class for.  She knows more about religion than anybody I’ve ever met except me and maybe a couple of lunatics I’ve met online in christian chat rooms.  Sorry, I digress yet again.  Mea culpa!– because it just seems to fit here.)   But Richards is a good teacher and you should take advantage of his wisdom if you can.  & now,  Movin’ on.

I have come to the conclusion that a degree in Psychology may be… how shall one say?  …worthless.   I don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of passing the GRE, and  without an advanced degree, I’m dead in the water.  An MA isn’t even worth much in Psychology:  you have to go for a Doctorate  to have any chance at all of doing something with the degree and really I don’t have much to work with in the areas of time or money.  So Psychology may be on the way out and I may go for an MSW.   My GPA is high enough– so far– but it would be better if I had the coursework for Social Worker  squared away before I apply for their Master’s program.  So I’m going to go talk to somebody, I guess, although who that would be, I don’t know since nobody at this school tells you ANYTHING that might–god forbid– keep you from chasing your tail and running in circles.

But maybe it’s true that 60 is the new 40 and when the kids move and the dog dies (my last dog is 16 years old and he can’t live forever even though it seems like it as he merrily barks all night long in his doggie dementia… but he’s happy, so what the hell.  Let him bark)  ….but maybe it’s time for me to finally be footloose and fancy-free, the way I used to be before 3 kids and life interrupted all my great plans and maybe I can just ignore the tangled hell-web that I KNOW is waiting for me when I try to change majors, and I can enjoy some of that enthusiastic, youthful naivete too.

I’ll probably keep this blog going.  Feel free to leave comments.  Or not.  My Twitter handle is Baysider1.   I gotta go, the dog is barking because he forgot how to get out of the bedroom.         Moooooooovin’ on.

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