I keep having dreams about school. Not the dream where I show up naked and forget I had a test, but the dream where I keep going to the same class all week and totally forgo all my other classes. Each morning, after the dream, I wake in a cold sweat, unsure if the school year has started yet or if I’m still counting down the minutes until that first bell rings.
Not that bells ring in college. Actually, that would be pretty awesome.
What’s interesting about this whole returning to school thing is that it didn’t start with the gusto with which I now attend, it started as one small class, one little suggestion from my agent Terra. “Maybe you should take a creative writing class or something.” So I did. I signed up for an English class, where I was allowed to write creatively and remember how much I love reading classic literature. Then halfway through the semester, the Professor wrote something about how pleased he is with my performance and I got a little more into it. Went to see a counsellor. Once she said I had only two years left to finish (I had 56 units at the time of that first conversation, which is 4 shy of being a junior), I thought, “I better just finish this shit.” It’s been a slippery slope of academic adoration ever since, excitement over physics classes and deep seeded fear of mitosis, which occurs whether I like it or not, my first psychology class with a Professor whom is head of the department and crazy inspirational, and now this semester, enrolled in two psychology courses (social and physiological), anthro, socio and bio. I understand why people devote their lives to learning new things. To the betterment of souls. I am so excited about being a full time college student, the shame jacket that I once wore while thinking of my age and history as compared to the other students, has been thrown in the trash. It serves no purpose anymore. I have no energy to continue judging myself.
I recently submitted applications to four year institutions as well, to Cal State Northridge, Pepperdine and Loyola, and am having a little internal dialogue about where to finish these next credits.
Voice one: If you go to Northridge, will you get into as good a graduate school?
Voice two: Graduate school is really the only thing that matters anyway. Bah Undergrad.
Voice one: But if you go to Pepperdine, you can only take 64 of your 80 credits, and then you have to take two full years, at 40k per. That’s dumb money. You don’t have dumb money anymore remember? Miss Hostess?
Voice two: Loans my little one, there are more in student loans than the national credit debt. Join American youth!
Voice one: Loans are crap. If you can pay for school, pay for Northridge. Get loans for Grad school.
EGO: (A state school? Really? Aren’t we better than that?)
Voice one and two: Bitch please. No room in here for you.
Voice one: But what about UCLA?
Voice two: Graduate school honey. Just keep looking forward. If you look forward, you move forward.
And so now I wait to hear about spring. I am so close to having my Bachelors, I can taste it. I am excited about the potential, thrilled about the unknown, anxious to be on my way, all things I never would have felt had I stayed there. I keep looking at my class schedule and trying to memorize it so I can make it on time in my dreams. Because I know, when next week comes, I’ll have no trouble making it in real life.