At 6 years old I said "I want to graduate high school and get a diploma, then I want to go to college and get a degree in English so I can teach grammar and write a lot"
That's no joke. That's written in a journal. That was a conversation I had at 6. That goal never changed.
When I was 15, I decided due to all the rules a regulations imposed on teachers, I didn't want to do that. Even though I was pretty good at explaining things and an expert at grading thanks to my many study hall helper sessions with teacher.
At 16, when they begins to force you to think about college, my advisors tried to talk me into a majoring in English but a minor in "something useful."
At 18, I started college just 3 months after graduating high school. My major: English Language & Literature.
I was shell shocked, homesick, sometimes terrified, often depressed, and always a mess for the next two years.
By 20, I was home at a shit job I never wanted to go back to. I was well on my way to becoming a drunk. I was far from okay. But, in the back of my mind, was that degree.
It nagged me. That little six year old girl had wanted a lot of things. She wanted to sing back up and dance with New Kids on the Block. She wanted to write clever children's poems like Shel Silverstein. She wanted to write a big book like her Grimms' Tales. She wanted to teach grammar because she loved the way a properly punctuated sentence looked. She wanted to make her own ice cream. To own a boutique for Barbie clothes. To go on Jeopardy.
She wanted to do so much, and the 20 year old staring at me, just wanted to curl up in a ball and forget the last two years had happened.
At 22, I dried out a little. I found a job I really liked. It was boring to eeryone else in my life but I loved it. Bonus, I was good at it.
I found myself drawn to school again and by the time I turned 23 I was enrolled in college again.
My major: English Language & Literature.
I busted my ass the last 6 years. That's no joke. That's not an exaggeration. I did homework on road trips, on vacation, on SNL Party nights. I did homework on holidays, while my niece watched, at the dinner table.
I worked full time. I lost my job and search 6 months for a new one. Then full time again. And full time as often as possible.
I volunteered. Kept up a social life. Dated.
I did all of this and managed to get through the shit classes and the fantastic classes.
I am 29 years old and I have reached a goal that means more to me than any other I've set for myself.
Because it's a goal that's been constant for 23 years.
I am finally a college graduate. I stuck it out to get that degree.
Does it strike you now, how long it's been?
Do you get it?
It's all I need. That degree. That goal completed.
I love my job. Regardless of all the bullshit I've dealt with, it's the truth. I'm suited for it. It's a good time for me on most days.
I'll leave it when I feel like I need to. And not before that.
I have a list of goals that I intend to complete.
If I can take a goal that's 23 years old and complete it, what makes you think I can't with those more recent?
Let me have my moment.
Stop trying to dictate what should happen next.
This is my life. My happiness.
My goals and ambitions.
I'm happy. So very happy.
So let it be.
10:25 p.m. - Thursday, Jul. 05, 2012