Recently someone sent an e-mail to me saying that I haven’t been writing with much depth. She is one who remembers when my Dear Ones messages were a writing outlet, when it was an earnest personal view for daily circumstances. The list grew from my sisters and best friend to more than 40 recipients. I was funny, strong, opinionated because the folks on the receiving end had known me in person at some stage of my life and I had confidence that they would consider the source and comprehend what I meant.
My writings became public when Husband set me up with this Internet weblog for Christmas. The public is not quite so forgiving of writing. Things can be taken the wrong way. There is no wink over a shoulder, no hand-holding to put the message into context. To write where the world can see is very daring. I am not quite there yet. Some folks let it all hang out, but my family has made it clear that personal should stay at home. That takes some of the fun out of writing about it, because my life has always been about how crazy my family is. A bee on the wall would really have some stories, but could only be telling other bees.
The same week MrsDoF got registered as a domain, I began a Composition 101 course at the community college. I am thinking that the main reason my weblog writing has been kinda humdrum is because so much of my inner energy has to be going to producing research papers for the English class. The way the grade goes will depend on my ability to write in a way most un-natural to me. If you could see how fired up I get the night before the paper is due, you would know that my opinions are still very strong and my energy can get quite centered—on avoiding writing. There is nothing I want to do more than to take up a crochet hook and yarn and wait until after the paper is due to begin living life again. I haven’t yet taught myself to put all that energy into parking my backside into the chair and just getting all the research in order, then typed and done.
I don’t like college at all. To pay tuition to have someone tell me to do things I don’t want to do just grates like sandpaper on my teeth. I don’t see that having letters after a name would have me be any smarter, it just means that I produced a product satisfactory for some propped up expectations for an academic setting. Educational standard has managed to invade society enough that everyone relies on college knowledge of employees, and a high school diploma isn’t adequate. Even with education and a fine job, it is difficult for a single working person to support a family.
That’s what I keep looking at. If I didn’t have a really sweet Husband who already earned a BA degree, and who has a job that brings in a good salary, there would be no telling what my living situation would sink to. My mother lives on a pittance of a widow’s pension, and she is the me of the future.
My meeting with my Academic Advisor got me all registered for classes this summer, a possible schedule for the Fall, and a plan for the Spring.
This time next year, I should have an Associate Degree.
She asked if I might be anticipating going on for a Bachelor’s degree, says I am smart and really should keep reaching up if there’s any chance. I told her one class at a time, because this writing research drivel is taking a big chunk out of the delightfulness of life and I really can’t see that I will be able to carry on for more than a year.
Well, I have managed to write a whole bunch of explanation for why my writing isn’t real details of the down-n-dirty. There’s still the feeling that Miss Tencate is going to be grading the paper, and she has some high standards of propriety. Wonder if I’ll ever get my mind out of junior high…..
~~love and Huggs, Diane