The same two books are on my bedside table that I last cracked in January. I subscribed to three magazines over the winter break (Amazon had some mad-hot deals) and have barely given them a glance. This semester has kicked. my. ass. Notice I didn't say arse. This was a full-fledged ass-whooping. The semester made me its bitch. I was rendered nearly useless at the hands of sixteen credit hours. I cannot believe I'm still alive (alright...now I'm just being ridiculous).
For a control freak like myself, this has been a lesson in the making. I say that because I fear the lesson is not yet complete. The next summer, fall and spring will likely unfold with more than a few surprises and throw-downs. But at the end of this seemingly unending tunnel is a thin little piece of paper upon which I will build my career.
So while I'm not really fully understanding the implications of the end of the semester -- really, I don't have to study tonight? -- I can see the bigger picture. I'll start again in a few weeks. I'll be driving. A lot. I don't know where the money will come from. I don't know how I'll pull it off, but I know I will...and I will do it well. And even if each of the next three semesters kicks my ass just like this one did, I will have kicked my old life's ass by the end of the journey. I will have proven to myself and any unbelievers that I can be anything I want to be -- ok, maybe not an NBA player or a ballerina -- but I will have far surpassed the expectations of many who knew me way-back-when.
And once I finish that internship, I'll throw a couple of initials at the end of my name. Jennifer Diggs, R.D. I like it. I like it a lot.