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thistledearI'm going back to school.
Going to take the paralegal courses.
Going to be in debt for the next TEN YEARS, but I have to do something.
I can't keep on this course. I can't keep relying on wistful little dreams that let me lie to myself for the past fifteen years. I'm not going to be a published writer--and even if I am, I will never be a successful one. Not the kind that can live off their books. That was the one that landed me with a useless English degree. It didn't matter what I did in high school or college--I was going to be a WRITER. I never even thought ahead to my thirties--I was going to have bestsellers by the time I was 25.
Now I'm 33 and as I said a couple of months ago, it is time to grow the fuck up.
I don't have any retirement plans financially. I don't have a savings account to speak of. I have $200. That's it. And my paychecks, which disappear like water in a desert.
I need a career. I need to not only plan for the soon future but farther off. I don't want to be a 70-year-old lady working clerical duties because there's no such thing as Social Security in 2046 and I have heart medicine to pay for.
Of course, 2046 could be a post-Apocalyptic future in which I'm leading the Resistance against alien robot zombies, but it's probably better to assume 2046 is going to be full of the same boring bullshit as 2009.
I rather like legal work. I like research. I like being a support function. Lawyers are everywhere and I don't see them going anywhere or doing their own work, so it's a job with more of a future than fucking DATA ENTRY. I think the paralegal thing will be good.
Classes start Monday. I have financial aid to fill out tonight. I am going to be a wee mad bundle of stress for the next 11.5 months, and I doubt you'll hear much from me other than freaked out screamy rants. Monday through Thursday, 6-9 in the evenings on top of 8 hours at work? Oh, Bonnie is going to have SO much screen time in my brain this next year.
Going to take the paralegal courses.
Going to be in debt for the next TEN YEARS, but I have to do something.
I can't keep on this course. I can't keep relying on wistful little dreams that let me lie to myself for the past fifteen years. I'm not going to be a published writer--and even if I am, I will never be a successful one. Not the kind that can live off their books. That was the one that landed me with a useless English degree. It didn't matter what I did in high school or college--I was going to be a WRITER. I never even thought ahead to my thirties--I was going to have bestsellers by the time I was 25.
Now I'm 33 and as I said a couple of months ago, it is time to grow the fuck up.
I don't have any retirement plans financially. I don't have a savings account to speak of. I have $200. That's it. And my paychecks, which disappear like water in a desert.
I need a career. I need to not only plan for the soon future but farther off. I don't want to be a 70-year-old lady working clerical duties because there's no such thing as Social Security in 2046 and I have heart medicine to pay for.
Of course, 2046 could be a post-Apocalyptic future in which I'm leading the Resistance against alien robot zombies, but it's probably better to assume 2046 is going to be full of the same boring bullshit as 2009.
I rather like legal work. I like research. I like being a support function. Lawyers are everywhere and I don't see them going anywhere or doing their own work, so it's a job with more of a future than fucking DATA ENTRY. I think the paralegal thing will be good.
Classes start Monday. I have financial aid to fill out tonight. I am going to be a wee mad bundle of stress for the next 11.5 months, and I doubt you'll hear much from me other than freaked out screamy rants. Monday through Thursday, 6-9 in the evenings on top of 8 hours at work? Oh, Bonnie is going to have SO much screen time in my brain this next year.
