Ah, this. I forgot this part. Being tired all the time. That's how it feels to be back in school. I'm in a constant rush three nights a week. The other two weeknights I'm studying or writing. On the weekends I fit in a social life among the loads of laundry and the pet wrangling. Coffee is my new best friend, except I'm so hyper now because of my new schedule that I have to really watch the levels of caffeine. It's far too easy to overshoot and wind up cranked, cranky, and sleepy all at the same time. Today I had just one cup and I feel achey and wan. I've forgotten how to synchronize the dosage with my activity level.
I'm sore, too. I sit upright with no back support for two and a half hours on Mondays playing the piano. My muscles aren't used to it. And here I thought it was bad having to fit my generously proportioned middle-aged butt into a chair built for slender eighteen year olds for two and a half hours on Tuesdays in History. My butt can handle it. My neck and shoulders cannot. Ma, you were right, I should have been sitting up straight all these years.
But it's not just school that takes up my time. I'm on the phone every day trying to reach this or that staff member at Wuthering Heights Community College. Voice mailboxes are full, there are differing opinions on which department I need to speak to, so-and-so won't be in until ten...well yes, it's eleven, yes, you're right, I'll have her call you, click. The Dean of This, the Head of That, the elusive faculty person who may or may not wish to assist me with testing out of freshman comp., they're all so terribly busy right now, could I just call back next week? No? Can I come in during the day? No? Oh, dear! Oh, dear, oh dearie, dearie, dear!
Yet I forge on, undaunted by the Piglets of this world. I find my friendly but implacable demeanor allows me to take shortcuts through the usual bureaucratic mazes, but arranging an appointment with She Who Reviews Transcripts For Transfers And Graduates was a day-long odyssey of incompetence and stonewalling. I finally spoke to her after leaving a tart message on her minion's voicemail including a comment that an answering machine message announcing Winter 2001's term starts in January left me no confidence that anyone was actually checking voicemail. She confirmed she was indeed the one I needed to see in order to graduate, and I scored the coveted six o'clock appointment, the last of the day. Well worth fighting my way through the dithering ranks of student counselors, assessment advisors, and misinformed administration flunkies. On Thursday next I will leave work early in order to keep my appointment with the woman who holds my fate in her hands.
Getting in to college is easy. Getting out is much, much harder. Welcome to the Hotel California community college system. Have a cup of coffee. You'll need it.
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