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Higher Irritation
Learning when to hold em' and when to fold em'!

I could go on an on about how grueling graduate school has been, alongside full time work and motherhood.  I could go on and on about that, but many women have overcome such obstacles, so not much to lament about there.  I could espouse on the ambiguity of these studies: no real answers, lots of theorizing and hypoculating! 

No, that isn’t “a word,” (not an Oxford one anyway) but I believe my soon-to-be-master’s status, gives me the right to create at least one new word for our lexicons. 

Yes, I could go all around the mulberry bush with my regrets about not having a real “social life,” or the ability to plan fun things at a moments notice.  But many people survive this as well, a temporary hiatus into higher education, to get even higher in education.  I feel like other things have passed me by, my blog being one, that I have hardly given homage to, due to my busy, brainy life.

See, I was raised and still believe, if you’ve nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.  This is remarkably true for me in these last months.  My niceties have shrunk to an all time low and though I see potential in everyone and everything – I just don’t feel like commenting. By the time I do, someone has already said it more eloquently, more passionately and more often. 

Being forced to write and think has had an adverse reaction on me, one who loves to write and think.  Now, I dread writing and dread thinking.  Hopefully this too will pass, as Chancellor Dr. Michael Lovell hands me my degree on May 19th, 2013, like a baton to a sprinter.  I suspect that immediately thereafter, I will resume my regular soapbox status and have diarrhea of the mouth and go on and on about all thing things I have been too busy to discuss, since I’ve been a “graduate student.” 

Even my Linked In page has grown cob-webby.  What else do I say, from the limbo position that I find myself?  I am and have been a professional student, since 2010.  Sure I have had full time jobs, during that time, but none as fully as demanding of my time as analyzing the absurd, summarizing theories of the deceased and reading, no plowing, through some of the driest book learning around.  I dare not read for pleasure or write for joy, as neither produces what is intended, at this juncture. 

My Facebook posts are random, but thoughtful.  Still, I hardly have time to express my authentic interest in my three hundred something Facebook friends, save checking a mere “like” button on their pages.  Seems a futile way of communicating and staying socially connected, but I guess it is better than sending a letter to a pen pal, and waiting days for it to be returned. 

People amaze me with their advice too.  “If I had a blog, I’d blog about these racist Milwaukee cops, the high expense of gas, same-sex marriage, violence in schools, guns with 350 round clips, dirty felons, the scourge of drugs in our city and the number of folks who want to work, but cant.”  These are things I have been advised to write about, but they are not things I feel like writing about.  Honestly, at some point, I’ve discussed all of these things in public forums and/or someone else has done so, with more speed and style than me.  Everything has been said, I fear.  My head has been so far up the spine of textbooks, that I am stumped in the creativity department. 

And so this month, a month that began with an onslaught of foolishness, I say a whole lot of nothing about the city around me, the world around me.  I just read, or plow through that which has already been blogged about and wait to have something nice to say about someone, something, somewhere, somehow.





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