I am in the process of perfecting my fall class schedule, and I am almost done. Whenever people ask me what my favorite holiday is, I always say New Year's (because I like dressing glam, and it's the only holiday that involves dancing ... plus it makes me sound cooler than I actually am), but the sad truth is: my favorite day of the year is the first day of school. Which is great for me because sometimes it comes twice a year! Maybe even three times!
I could go into why the first day of school is so satisfying, but be honest, you know, right? Bringing your spanking new textbook to class with nary a mark in it (unless you're me and that book is about English Grammar ... but I've said too much already). Trying to figure out if the professor is lax or fascist. Scoping out classmates of the maler sex. Ooohhh. I want to sit by him. There is no novelty even if you've taken the class before or had the teacher before. I could go to school for the rest of my life and never get tired of the first day of school.
I am pretty down to the wire. Only three semesters left. I am pretty far done in my program--only upper level electives left in my major, and just a few classes short of my actual minor (as opposed to the one I made up). I also have a few GEs that I have been putting off, which I plan to satisfy with the least painful classes possible. Good-bye, Physical Science for Dummies. Hello, Astronomy. I arranged my class schedule so I am free to model Tuesdays and Thursdays, because I am hoping and praying that my employer will let me go come September, and I can return to the stress-free bliss of selling my body for lots and lots of money. Well, the opportunity to create art resembling my body, at least.
I mentioned having a minor that I made up. Let me explain. I started out as an English Major, but I really wanted to study the historical development of English, so I added a double major of Classics. Latin and Greek and all that jazz. I took two years of Latin and absolutely hated it. The thought of learning Greek made me want to cry. It still does. Then I learned of a little major called the English Language major. The linguistics of English? Sign me up!
I no longer want to be a writer, per se. That is, I will always be a writer, but I won't delude myself into thinking that I will be Johnny Depp sitting in front of a typewriter all day in some cabin. I want to be an editor. But I want to publish my own books too. Here comes the made-up minor: they don't have a creative writing minor here. Can you believe it? So I made up my own. It's basically an English minor, except with all the poetry classes I want. *sniff* I'm soooo happy.