It's the Little Things

I spent all day working on school stuff (posting discussion material for History of Women in the American West, writing a paper on the power of words in the sexual marketplace, working on an Oral History subject - oy). Sat the kiddos in front of the TV most of the day. Went to my night class... and the dangling carrot, this whole time, was thinking of coming home, pouring a glass of wine, and parking my rapidly expanding bum on the sofa to watch digitally recorded episodes of Glee and Caprica. For some reason, TiVo didn't record them.

So now I'm feeling sorry for myself. Sometimes I feel like I'm sacrificing so much with no guarantee that it will ever make anything better. In fact, sometimes the niggling suspicion arises that education is a Pandora's Box that will only make me feel worse about humanity and life in general - even as I feel it evermore compelling to keep staring into that abyss of knowledge.

I fantasize about wearing my silly cardboard hat and honor cords... holding a diploma it took me almost 20 years to earn. And I wonder why it matters to me. Why don't I just turn the other direction, immerse myself in housewifely pursuits, and say no to this? Why do I feel so damn compelled to finish this thing?

Right now I just want to watch Glee and pretend that my biggest event of the morning is packing lunches and shoveling kids onto school buses. Instead I'm worrying about the condition of the house and if the nanny thinks I'm a pathetic lazy slob and if the kids feel neglected and how Linguistics is going to ruin my 4.0.

Sometimes this sucks.