I suppose when the seventh paragraph of an angry essay begins, "I probably shouldn't even post this rant, but...", it's time to step away from the computer.
Not surprisingly, I kept typing. I didn't finish as I had to go to work, but did verbally continue my ramblings to Carpool Lou. And she told me I shouldn't broadcast my tirade. Not yet.
Still not convinced, I set up my soap box at Mark's house and he too warned of the poor timing and potential (though doubtful) ramifications of speaking my piece too soon.
So despite my own warning to myself, it took two more people to stop me from writing myself my own obituary. (Alright...that might be a bit dramatic.)
It's about school as you might have guessed. If I'm still simmering after graduation, I'll publish my feelings. That's it. That's all this post is about.
I just told you that I'm not telling you anything. Aren't you glad you stopped by?