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21 more things = 42

The last post was the 21 things I KNOW at 42. At the end I said I'd consider writing 21 more things to make it 42 in total & then ...

Monday

Sink or Swim


This morning tapped me on my shoulder well before dawn. I was sweating like the Flight of the Phoenix abandoned me in the desert and my stomach was KILLING me. I’ve had less than a week of not having to get up at 6 a.m. but I got used to it quickly, anticipated that not going right back to sleep would be a bad look and tried to remedy the situation ASAP. A/C went back on, repositioned the fan and assessed just what kinda stomach ache I was dealing with. Turns out it was the kind with no immediate alleviation so I took it back to bed. As I tried to drift back to sleep, I wondered if my body was warning me against the new experience awaiting me, no matter how excited I’d been prior to the actual day.

Good Morning Pt. 2 came and I STILL had a belly ache and felt slightly like someone was standing on my chest. I really started to wonder about my ability to make this new adventure on time. I dragged through the whole shit/shower/shave process, ate a lite breakfast and packed all I thought I'd need to get through this 1st day. Quarters for meters. Check. Cash for parking permit to avoid anymore meters and HU campus police. Check. Orientation info. Check. Artifacts for introduction. Check. Lunch. Check. Snacks. Check.

Weighed down by THREE bags, I went on my way. I'd set aside 30 minutes for my 15 minute trip so I'd have time for finding parking before securing the permit. The problem was it took 45 minutes in DC's morning rush hour meets poorly timed construction projects meets ridiculous changing traffic patterns. Then add the 5 minute search for parking and you've got me arriving late. Normally I'd be disturbed by this first showing but I decided we'd all have to get over it. We weren't many because everyone else was experiencing the same issues. Our next bonding moments came as we listened to approximately 3 hours of "and another thing" related to the course requirements. The room was mostly quiet, faces mostly long, spirits mostly low. The already semi-cumbersome workload of a 90 minute presentation and a position paper suddenly turned into snack sign-up lists, committee assignments, the eventual creation of a brochure, a newsletter and an anthology, interactive web, text books, journaling, and the possibility of writing 3 chapters of whatever books lay hidden beneath the surface. In 5 weeks? Really? We all saw vacations deferred and summer school teaching dollars go up in 96 degree heat waves before our very eyes and sighed collectively.

While everything in me is wondering why I signed up for this instead of beach hopping, another part of me welcomes the challenge. See, I'm not a quitter. I ain't "no punk, no p*ssy, no bitch, no shit like that" and I have to see this thing through. If I can squeeze out all this promised newness AND walk out with more published works, 6 graduate credits for a mere $50 (+ $24 to avoid parking tickets) and the certification to become a consultant to teach other teachers how to make writing pop [inter]nationally, well, I gotta still be all in balls in. So, I'm preppin' to be lost in research, creativity, and pushing my own boundaries. When this is all said and done, I can feel that I will have something else to be proud of. Something tells me I'm going to need that high to ride the 1st part of the unknown waiting to greet me at the end of the summer 'cuz bulls apparently shit faster than rabbits reproduce. I'm on wing & a prayer status. Which ever you have to donate...I appreciate it.

Watch me move.

P.S.-for those of you who've TOLD me I need to get to commentating on last night's EBT awards, I will try my best to oblige. I make no promises.

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