It's Only Day 8 And I'm *Already* Feeling Stabby

By now you must know that I've returned to college life. If you do not know this, go here.

So, it is now a whopping 8 days into the semester and I'm ready to scream. The word I am about to throw down has been known to cause riots. It is a horrible, horrible word. This word strikes revulsion in the hearts of millions. Well, maybe thousands. Ok, ok. Just me. It strikes revulsion in me. The word is.......

SOCIOLOGY.

Even now I'm cringing. It makes my eye tic, my palms sweat. I get the distinct feeling of wanting to gouge my own eyeballs out with a spork. Saying it out loud makes me throw up in my mouth a little. It has become the new bane of my existence. I have never, never despised a class so thoroughly since my 9th grade Honors English class. And then it wasn't the class (I love English and have petitioned for a paid position on the Grammar Police squad. Still waiting for my acceptance letter...) so much as it was the hag who called herself a teacher. Lemme break it down for you.

I am not a social butterfly. I do not have many relationships. I don't flit from friend to friend, go to the mall just to hang out (or for anything, really), and I'm not attached permanently to my cell phone. My dance card is never full.

My idea of a perfect day/week/vacation is me, alone, with a few good books. And cheesecake.

 I am, however, a concrete thinker. I believe in a black-and-white system for almost everything. To me, there are very few instances where the possibility of grey even comes into play.

Yeahhhhh..... Ummmm... Attention dumb-ass me: Sociology is an abstract concept. Aaaaaaand? It's the freaking abstract study of PEOPLE. You know, people. Those annoying things that you don't like (and barely tolerate). Messy, loud, obnoxious, demanding, opinionated, rednecky, shitty driving people. Massive, hoard-y amounts of the public. It basically is my worst academic nightmare in the form of a rather innocuous looking book.

It totally doesn't *seem* like it could incite homicide....

I have to, somehow, get through reading 13 more chapters, do chapter quizzes for each one, 4 unit tests, a video reaction paper (the hell?), and some sort of essay. OH! And since the course is online, in lieu of physically attending class, I have to participate in discussions. I figure they are like message boards. Doesn't sound so bad, right? <insert annoying buzzer sound here> WRONG!

There are 4 mandatory discussions; one for each of the units. The instructor poses a couple of questions and/or topics that you have to demonstrate your grasp of. Also, you have to read everyone else's rhetoric. Not just read, but comment on two of them on two different days. I looked ahead to see what the topics were gonna be.

Oh. Em. Gee. Y'all. Every one is how society affects this, and expound on such-and-such theory. Every. Single. One. I mean, theories, for crying out loud. THEORIES! They are just one step removed from guesses!! Guesses, people! How much more abstract can you get?

Anyway, I just took a break from pulling my hair out to write this. I guess I better get back to it... before I decide to chuck the book out in the yard. I better tell Terry to make sure we don't have any sporks handy.....

There I Was, Just Minding My Own Business.....

...having my dreams of Adam Levine and peanut butter PopTarts, when BAM! Out of the blue <insert horribly disgusting sounds of kid barfing>. I know there is nothing I love more than being woken from a dead sleep to puke in my bed. Except maybe going around again on the vomit comet 30 minutes later after the sheets have been changed and everyone settled back down. So, yeah. Starting off the day at 4 a.m. to a sick kid isn't great. But you know what's even less great? Starting off the day before school starts with vomit. We are supposed to go register for 1st grade and meet her teacher at 4 p.m. today. I seriously hope she's feeling better by then.

OH! And THEN you know what happened? An hour or so after the last visit from "The Exorcist" (ya know. The whole projectile vomiting thing? Anyway..) guess who else starts to feel a rumbly in their tummy? If you said me, then you're right. You win eleventy bajillion dollars. The check's in the mail...

So, here I am. Five-o-freakin'-clock in the morning. My last day to "sleep in" until 7 a.m. and I've been up almost 2 hours already. Maddie is settled in snugly beside her daddy sound asleep. And me? Well, the tummy is still rumbly and there are some urgent issues there, but no vomit.

Yet.

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho. It's Back To School I Go

Here is where my brain is reenacting the opening-ish scene from Grease 2. You know, the "Back To School Again" song and dance number.

What "back to school" looks like in my head

What "back to school" means in reality

So, in case you haven't guessed (honestly, people, I don't know how I could have made it any easier for you...) by now, I have enrolled for classes in the Fall. And by "Fall" I mean 3 weeks from now. And yes, classes plural. I am now enrolled in 3 classes for a total of 9 credit hours this semester.

I started seriously considering the whole school thing a couple of months ago. I began thinking that since it's evident that since I'm not going to be a kept woman I should find something I want to do. No easy feat, that. I don't want to do much of anything, Unless, of course, I could get paid sleeping late and reading. Or being a student. I would totally just take classes on everything if I could make that my job. Sadly, no one is beating down my door to offer me gobs of cash for doing things I love. So, if doing what I want is out, the next best thing is doing something I'm interested in. For me, it's the macabre.

There. I said it. I love morbid stuff. Dead people? Awesome. Crime scenes? The gorier the better. So, dear reader(s), I am pursuing a degree in Criminal Justice so I can gawk (legally) at crime scenes and poke at dead people (again, legally).

Right now, adding up the classes I took *cough* 13 years ago (and they do count), I only need 23 hours, I think. If my calculations are correct, and I hope to all that's holy they are, I could maybe, possibly, potentially graduate with my Associates in the Spring. Yep. Just 2 short semesters and I will have my piddly-ass Associates degree. Then, with luck, gray hair and time (oh, and lots of money), I will transfer into the Bacheleor program to finish up. I was a lot closer that I thought I was. Of course, all the minutia of daily living for 13 years kinda hampers the recollection of trifling matters like college degrees.

You may be asking yourself, "Well, smartypants, what classes are you going to take?". Honestly, I'm super glad you asked. Since I registered kinda late in the game I didn't have much of an option. Luckily, though, all 3 of the classes I'm taking are online. I can go to class in my pajamas. Without makeup. Naked. (I totally wouldn't go to class naked. Probably.)

Anyway... The 3 lucky recipients of my time are: Intro to Sociology, Intro to Criminal Justice, and Intro to Law Enforcement. All that I need is a math, my 2nd Environmental Science, Intro to the Legal Process, and Intro to Corrections.

So there you have it. My short term goal to complete my Associates. I seriously hope I can handle passing 3 classes. Especially since we have been without the internet at home for almost a year. I guess my in-laws will be seeing a LOT more of me....


*Photo credit for both images: Bing.com

Welcome to my blog!

Hello, world. After months of scouring the internet for funny and interesting blogs to read I decided to have my own. Even if no one reads this, I will be able to chronicle all the boring/funny/weird stuff that makes up my life. I thought I would do a brief background for my first post but then I thought, "Nah. Who wants to read that? If *I* don't want to, no one else will either." So, for my first post I thought I would tell you about a conversation I had with my 6 year old daughter the other day.

Maddie: Mommy, today on the playground me and my friends were playing in the dirt.

Me: (Silent, but I'm cringing internally. She definitely did NOT get my aversion to all things gross)

Maddie: We were pretending it was pixie dust. Then, "Brayden" and "Paul" came over and messed it all up! The kicked our dirt!!

Me: (trying to look reasonably shocked) Well, was it an accident?

Maddie: NO! They did it on purpose! And THEN they called us a...a.... POOPYHEAD! Then they ran off laughing.

Now at this point, her little face has fallen and she is verging on distraught. I'm wracking my brain to come up with an appropriate response. I mean, after all, it's just dirt... I mean "pixie dust".

I suddenly think of that movie "He's Just Not That Into You". You know, the opening scene where the little girl is on the playground and the little boy pulls her hair or pushes her down or something. She runs over crying to her mom to tell her all about it. Then the mother says, "Oh, honey. Don't you know what that means? That means he LIKES you!", and kisses her boo boos and sends her on her way.

Ummmm..... what?? So that scene is playing in my head. Yes, it probably DOES mean the little boys like my daughter and her friends (because, HELLO! She. Is. Awesome!) but do I really want to start her off thinking she needs to be treated like crap by boys to be shown love? HELL NO!

The scene plays out in my mind: Maddie, 20 years from now, engaged or married to the biggest douche canoe out there. He treats her like a servant and may or may not be physically abusive. He talks down to her, makes her feel "less than", and controls every thought in her head. Worse, she's okay with it because I didn't tell her when she was 6 that if someone is mean or degrading to you they don't deserve to be in your life.

So, for the 7 seconds it took me to get from the playground to saving my future daughter from an abusive marraige, I did the only reasonable thing.

Me: You want Mommy to kill them?