Wednesday, December 19, 2007

The Annual Bitch

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHEN WILL IT STOP RAINING??? THE SKY HAS BEEN DISMAL AND GREY FOR 2 WEEKS STRAIGHT!!!

ahem. ok. I'm done now.

Monday, December 10, 2007

A Trip to the Mall

My trusty cell phone broke in half last night, so I was forced to visit the mall to get a new one. After picking the phone closest to my old model (dear GOD I hope I can figure out how it works!)I decided to take a lap around the shopping mall, being Holiday season and all.

BIG MISTAKE!

I haven't been mall shopping in about 2 years and a lot has changed. There are now huge, distracting flat screen TVs every 20 feet or so, beaming Debora Norville's smiling face and cheery advice for purchasing the perfect "holiday scarf". On top of that, you are assaulted with eye-level 7 foot tall moving billboards in between the TV screens. You can hear the jingle for radio host "Delilah" every 15 seconds coming from somewhere. Then, the kiosk booths have aggressive salespeople who attack you with perfumes and lotions and new cell phone options. Right out in the open, they invade your space as you dodge the slower-moving other shoppers.

After nearly having an anxiety attack from sensory overload, I decided to have lunch at a sit-down restaurant with a bar. After considering and then rejecting the notion of a mid-day Marguerita, I ordered a chicken sandwich and a coke. Before my food had even arrived, 2 well-dressed derelicts sat down across from me. You could tell these two guys either met in prison or at the rehab center. They ordered booze and started talking loudly about some "bitch who fucked their friend over". Every 10 seconds, the younger of the two would say "Yes sir!" while his legs moved non-stop under the barstool. Each sip made their conversation louder. I hurriedly finished my sandwich and paid my bill and high-tailed it out of there, avoiding the kiosk salespeople as I ran to the door.

Don't think I'll go mall shopping for another few years. Don't think I'll miss it.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Belly belly belly

I used to sleep with my hand in my kitty's big soft belly. Most mornings I'd wake up with my hand under his body...he'd rolled over during the night and so he was lying on my hand when we awoke.

I have been listening to the radio before I go to bed at night (Coast to Coast AM with George Noory).

This morning, I woke up with my hand under the boom box that was next to my pillow.

I miss my kitty.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Pizza Zen Master's Chin

I can see the chin of Pizza Zen Master! He shaved off his enormous beard yesterday!

It was such a shock.

He has a beautiful face. Not that I didn't think he did...but now I can understand why he kept the shaggy look for so long. His face is totally vulnerable without his hirsute armor. His gigantic, trusting eyes, heart-shaped visage and wide open smile must have been easy prey for unscrupulous women, determined to break his heart.

Perhaps he has found a new lady love who has given him enough courage to drop his guard? I hope he never feels the need to hide his identity under a beard again.

Wednesday, November 07, 2007

Muckity-Mucks

Just came from the grand opening of the new Bartell's drug store near my apartment. No, I didn't plan my day around it, just happened to be across the street in time for the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Don't think I've ever been to a ribbon-cutting before. The new store is yet another far-too-beautiful drugstore, like the gigantic new Walgreens and Rite-Aids. But, with Bartell's, the aisles aren't 8 feet tall. They're about 5 feet. So, you can see over the tops and spy on the other customers and see who's buying Fleet Enema solution and Rogaine and Playtex tampons. And they can watch you buy the stuff, too.

The over-the-aisle view also afforded me the chance to watch all of the sport-coated and well-heeled Bartell's corporate managers as they nervously preened and watched, eagle-eyed for any underlings who weren't offering spectacular customer service to those first-in-the-door with cash in hand. I felt nervous around them, not knowing why? They weren't MY managers. I wasn't being graded on my customer service skills. They have no bearing on my personnel file at the pizza place. I even got up the nerve to tell the president that I liked his new store and was happy to have it in my neighborhood. But, I just felt CREEPY around them! The president patted me on the shoulder after I spoke to him. I felt as if I had been "dismissed". Why are all muckity-mucks the same? Maybe it was all of those fake smiles? The slight air of superiority they projected? Their eagerness to please? Except for the pizza place, most corporate environments I have worked in project the same kind of energy.

Muckity-mucks, I guess. They can sniff out one of their own and they travel in packs, hiring like-minded folks to replace them when they retire. This is the American Dream, isn't it?

Friday, October 19, 2007

Pretending to be a grown-up

My boss at the pizza place wrote up a series of guidelines to help me deal with complaint calls. Now that I have that, perhaps I won't feel so rudderless when I deal with upset and angry callers. Maybe I'll figure out a way to handle this and I won't quit, after all.

I got a call to interview for another job I applied for, one I might like better, making up "Triptiks" and helping folks plan their driving vacations for AAA. Surprisingly, the pay is only about $1 - $1.50 more an hour than I'm making right now. And, I'd work 8 more hours a week. However, it would be a MUCH longer commute - over a floating bridge -(and in Seattle, that means a LOT) and the work day starts at 8:00 AM. Most normal people don't have a problem with that. I suppose I could do it but I think the main reason I am able to stay at the pizza place is because I like working afternoons and evenings.

I suppose the most logical course of action would be to interview for the job and then take it from there. At least that's what I think a grown-up would do.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

STOP APOLOGISING!

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm awfully sorry. Oh, I'm really, really sorry about that...

I am spending a good portion of my work day apologising! I'm sick of it! After a childhood spent cowering under an abusive mother and being beaten up at school for no reason I had to learn to have self esteem and to stop apologising for my existence! Now, I have to do it for a living and it is killing me!!

So many screwed up pizza orders! So many orders that are late...none of it is my fault and yet, I am on the "second tier" of customer service and get all of the complaint calls now. I can't stand it!!! I am the one the customer feels is at fault!

I NEED ANOTHER JOB NOW!!!

Saturday, October 06, 2007

Pizza Zen Master

Pizza Zen Master has worked at the pizza place for over 5 years. Pizza Zen Master eats at least 2 meals a day there, five days a week. He is NOT SICK of pizza yet! Pizza Zen Master is a smart guy. Really, really brilliant. He writes essays about the state of the government and the world and posts them on his website and on places like Craig's List. In his spare time he enjoys role-playing games and pretends to be a pirate. Seriously. There are places in this world today where you can go off for a weekend and pretend to be a pirate.

Pizza Zen Master has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. His hair is long and stringy and he has a very scruffy beard. Pizza Zen Master looks like either Charles Manson or Jesus Christ, depending on which way the light hits him. Some days I am afraid of him and some days I am fascinated by him. He rides the bus to work and reads books on the Knights Templar. Pizza Zen Master is not ashamed to admit he is basically a lazy person and would rather eat pizza every night than cook for himself. Pizza Zen Master has girlfriends who work at the pizza place.

I wonder, how do guys like Pizza Zen Master end up? Will he be another sad, homeless person in a few years due to his lack of obvious ambition? Or, will he continue for many years, happy in his existence, because he has figured out a fundamental truth to life that the rest of us can't fathom?

Thursday, September 20, 2007

Sick of Pizza

It has happened. I can't stand the smell or sight of pizza. Most nights, anyway. However, if I'm hungry enough, I'll eat it, especially if it is a kind I haven't had before. But I'm ready to stop eating it all together.

Friday, August 24, 2007

That's Ms. Assistant Producer to You, Pal!

Can't get over this one. The Universe moves in amazing ways!

A couple of months ago, I wrote a fan letter to my favorite late-night radio talk show. I've been listening to this national show for over a decade 'cuz it is fun! It deals with topics ranging from government conspiracies to space aliens. Surprisingly,the person who answered my letter was the man who gave me my very first job in the radio business 18 years ago. He recognized my name and wondered if it was the same person. It turns out this man is now vice president of the radio network that produces this show. We emailed for a while and I told him the ONLY way I'd ever return to commercial radio is if I could work for this show.

Well, last week, he offered me a part time job, as ASSISTANT PRODUCER for this show, the most-listened-to late night radio show in the country, if not the entire world!!! It's only 10 hours a week for now, but it is a foot in the door...What are the odds???

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Cruel, Cruel Fate

My sweet kitty, Saturn, has been gone for almost a month now. This past week, I've been cat sitting for a friend. I spent Sunday night with li'l Squeek, so she wouldn't feel too lonely. I awoke Monday morning hacking and snorting in a delightfully feminine way. Suddenly, I had a realization: I used to wake up this way every morning when Saturn was around. I haven't had a morning cough in 4 weeks!

Which means...

I AM ALLERGIC TO CATS.

Life, as I know it is over. I won't be able to live out my days as a crazy cat lady without medication.

Perhaps now is the time I should start collecting figurines?

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Red, (a little) White, Brown, Beige, Tan and Blue

For the first time in many years, I went out with the rest of America and celebrated the 4th of July. The pizza company I work for had a company picnic at a beautiful waterside park. They served delicious food, had fun and games for the kids and a pizza tossing competition for the hearty, testosterone-laden young bucks who spin out pies every night.

What really amazed me, though, were all of the other groups surrounding my company picnic. Did you realize that the Americans who celebrate the 4th of July aren't WASPs??? Hardly a white face in the bunch! Lots of Asian, Hispanic/Latino, Middle Eastern and Indian faces as well as a sprinkling of African American ones, too. Finally, I have found people of color in Seattle!!! And, they know how to party - well, at least how to party in public. Perhaps Whitey was at home (like I usually am), whooping it up on the patio? (See post called "Lilly White" from December, 2005 - I take it all back!)

Interesting that the people celebrating our nation's independence were the very ethnic groups the conservative establishment are trying to marginalize as groups that hate our country!

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Train Wreck

I feel like a train wreck.

So much shit has happened in the past year that I feel like one of those women who are perpetually in crisis. I work 23 hours between Friday and Sunday and for the past 3 weeks, I've gone to my managers and asked if I could be let off of work early duing the weekend. Once, for a broken heart, once for a major sinus infection and now, so I can go home, get my cat and take him to the vet to be put to sleep.

I'm so sick of this shit.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

R.I.P.

Saturn "e-pie" Silberman 1991 - 2007

The love of my life has passed on. See my blog entry entitled "True Love" at:

http://ansapo.blogspot.com/2005/04/true-love.html

He was with me through heartache and happiness. He travelled across the country and back, living in Ohio and North Carolina and finally, back in Seattle with me. Every night he slept by my side, mostly with my hand in his abundant, luxurious tummy. He was a jealous boy. No other kitty was allowed complete access to my love. No other kitty could sleep near my head when he was around.

My friend, Paul, once said that "Saturn looks at you like he's in love with you" and that was the truth. His gigantic blue eyes stared into mine with a hungry, deep intensity. Yes, he was a cat. And his love was the sweetest I have ever known.

Rest in peace, Saturn-e-pie. I'll miss you forever.

Friday, June 08, 2007

Bookends

I call the journey I took between 2000 and 2007 my "educational odyssey". This is the trip I took back East to put myself through college and the continuation of my education back home in Seattle.

There were a couple of poetic bookends that began and ended this journey. The most obvious, the sticker on the side of my U-Haul truck. When I drove that big truck, towing my car behind, all the way to Berea, Ohio, it had a big North Carolina sticker on the side. I only lasted in Ohio one year and wound up completing my bachelor's degree in North Carolina, of all places. Once I got my degree, I didn't drive a U-Haul back to the Pacific Northwest as I gave most of my belongings away. A year and a half later, when I finally had enough money saved to move out of my sister's place and into my own little apartment, the small U-Haul I rented also had a North Carolina sticker on the side. What are the odds? (Probably one in fifty but let's leave that for another time).

The other bookend of this journey have been the twin stones that encased my heart for many years. The first one, Hank (names have NOT been changed to protect the innocent, as these men are not innocent), showed up at my door two months before I made my historic move. He contacted me without my permission and had gone to great lengths to find me, digging through forgotten boxes in his storage locker in order to locate my address. In one evening, he wormed his way back into my life, saying it was "timing" that seperated us (instead of his cruelty). Being the naive and trusting soul that I am, I let him back into my thoughts and yes, into my heart. But, I was very cautious. I didn't even kiss him goodnight on that fateful evening. He went off to climb a mountain for several days. During the next two weeks, I was filled with fond memories and hope. Before he returned, I emailed him and told him I would not be afraid to "kiss him goodnight" next time I saw him. A very different Hank came down from that mountain. When he saw me upon his return, he was cold and distant, and even spiteful. He did not want to hear that I had again warmed to him. Was I wrong to assume that some man who had gone to such great lengths to find me didn't want to rekindle our flame? As I dropped him off at the youth hostel, he put his arm around me and leaned in to kiss me but I did not kiss him back. A week later, on the exact spot where he touched my back, grew a hard, black mole that I had to have removed by a doctor.

Bookend number two: Keith. I shut him out of my heart and mind following a devistatingly humiliating phone call in 1992 when the woman he tried to replace me with serviced him below the belt during his call with me. He thought he was so clever and didn't think I knew what was going on. Believe me, I knew. I'm sure the happy couple had quite a laugh at my expense. I was so destroyed by this disgustingly inconsiderate act that I sunk into a deep depression and began the psychotherapy I continued for 15 years. (That part, at least, has been a blessing). The only way I ever referred to him was "he was 20, I was 29" and our most memorable time together as "5-times-in-3-hours". He didn't exist in my conscious memory until he called me in 1999 while I was on the radio. I didn't allow myself to open up to him but I did allow myself to acknowledge that I had been in love with him.

Cut to 2005. I have finished my undergraduate degree and am preparing to move back to Seattle to get my graduate degree. A month before making the cross-country trek, I get an email, out of the blue, from Keith. Once again, this man had to go to great lengths to find me, doing periodic Google searches. Apparently he had been looking for me for years, finally locating me via an article written about me by my University. He contacted my sister, asking for my email address. After obtaining my permission, my sister gave it to him. And thus began a 17-month (very guarded, on my part) email conversation between Keith and I. Mostly we talked about dogs and the mundane things of life. He had married Miss B.J. (out "of habbit", as he told me on the phone), who had become a near invalid when she broke her back before they were wed. Thing is, Keith loves to be the knight in shining armor. He has come to the aid of distressed women since his father left him, his sister and his mother when he was young. His wife (surprisingly also older than him...hmmm...just like me, except 15 years older than him!...did he make the connection?) is in constant need of rescuing, always requiring some kind of medical attention or another. Dear, Pious Keith, the long-suffering husband, is always at the ready, always willing to sacrifice his own happiness for her...

Why did he contact me 17 months ago? Why did he still email me when he didn't hear from me for months? Why, when I finally found an old photo of him and the good memories came flooding back to me, did he say he never really "respected or appreciated me" when we spoke on the phone? Why did he tell me I had a "profound impact on his life"? And finally, why, when I fully opened my emotions to him in a beautifully written letter, did he write to me that he "deeply loved his wife" and that he "has found peace"??? Why did he break my heart all over again?

Why? Because he is a frightened, weak man, afraid of a strong woman like me. Afraid I might make him see the truth.

I wish I could bash both Hank and Keith in the head with their stone bookends.

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

Another Editorial Move

I got rid of my post "Discarding Mental Debris" after 4 days. In it, I detailed a profanity-filled email I sent to my former professor who bullied an entire classroom with his belligerence and did me a grave injustice. Nothing makes me angrier than abuse of power.

I've never written such a profanity-filled letter to anyone in my life but I truly believe it was the only path I could have taken in order to heal from this man's toxicity. I don't think anyone has ever written such a brutally truthful note to him I believe he needed to be shocked into reality. But, generally, I don't like to operate in this way. I prefer to use kindness, love and forgiveness to move others forward. Forgive me for my temporary lapse in judgement. I should not have proudly posted that email.

Closure on Old Love

The other day, I finally received closure on the last remaining open wound of my life. It feels good and it feels awful at the same time. Perhaps I am too strong and individualistic to ever seek solace in the arms of a man. While I have always remained open and vulnerable despite my best efforts to protect myself, my strong streak of independence frightens most suitors away. Perhaps this is my burden to carry throughout my days. Perhaps it is also my blessing.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

100 Round Pianos

OK, I know I am tragically UN-hip. I don't even know if they call the folks who play the turntables in hip-hop DJs or something else. But, I had an insight about their art a little while back and wanted to share it with y'all.

First, let me start by telling you about one of the most musically fulfilling experiences I've ever had. In 1999 or early 2000, I got to participate in an improvised music game called "Cobra", created by John Zorn. In Cobra, one person acts as the director and is given a series of cards with symbols that relate to different ways of improvising music. Sometimes a group of 2 musicians (or vocalists) are directed to play a "blues" theme. Other times, they are told to immitate what a previous group just played. The Cobra group I sang with included a couple of guitarists, some horn players, a drummer or two and a guy on keyboard, as well as me, a vocalist and another man who set up his records and turntables and played them! I have to say the most intuitive musician of the group was the DJ and, according to a lot of people, he wasn't even a musician. I must beg to differ.

After pondering that musical afternoon for a number of years, I saw a film at the Experience Music Project's annual Pop Music Conference. The 15-minute movie documented an improv session between legendary jazz drummers of the 1940's and '50's and current masters of the hip hop turntable. The rhythms were mesmerizing. It was at that moment that I had my "insight" into the nature of the DJ's art:

Think of each record DJs play as a seperate piano. On a piano, the 88 notes already exist. No production of wind or bending of strings is required. The artistry occurs when the player combines the existing notes in inumerable ways, creating music. With the DJ's records, think of each groove on each record as a single note or a pre-existing sound source. The DJ, through countless hours of listening and practice, knows precicely where each phrase, riff or beat is on each seperate record. He masterfully combines and manipulates them in order to create a new piece of music.

As has been noted by Cornell West and countless others, because funding for music was eliminated in the public schools, the rappers and hip-hoppers resorted to the only instruments they had, the records in their parents basement.

Even an old fart like me can appreciate the invention and musicality of that.

Saturday, April 21, 2007

Sweet, Sweet Solitude

I have my own apartment! I am once again autonomous! Hooray!!

It took me nearly a year and a half to afford a place of my own. And, I can't believe what a wonderful little place it is. A small studio apartment with giant windows in a very quiet neighborhood in the North end of town. It is priced about $200 a month LESS than other comparable places. So, I can afford it on my miniscule pizza phone center salary. Yippeee!!!

My kitty, Saturn, is the happiest li'l blob of fur and purrs ever. No more barking or snarling dogs at his door! There is a Corgi-Shepherd mix at the house acrss the way and when he barks, Saturn flinches a little but I'm sure he'll figure it all out before too long.

I do miss World's Cutest Dog (as voted by the readers of Seattle Weekly), Dudley, but I'm sure my sister will let me continue my role as "Disneyland Dad" and take him for walks now and again. But...life is much quieter these days.

Aaaaaah.

Monday, April 09, 2007

Small Animals Love Me

This is true. You can ask anybody who knows me.

If I'm going for a walk in any residential neighborhood, cats just walk up to me with their tails held high. Most of the time they offer up their heads for scratching and start purring. Cats that are hidden behind bushes or kitties that aren't even in my field of vision just run up and plop down in front of me and demand attention.

Since I've lived with dogs this past year and have become attuned to them, all kinds of pooches now demand my attention. I seem to have a natural attraction with animals. I remember one time, several years ago, I was at a petting-zoo and walked up to the pen of a giant pig. She was lounging sideways. Her ear caught my eye because it looked so soft. For some reason, I said to the pig "I'd really like to touch your ear". No sooner were the words out of my mouth when the sow rolled her head in my direction and stuck her ear out between the metal bars of her pen! I stroked it and thanked her. It was an unforgettable moment.

Another time, while at the Cleveland Zoo with my sister, I was attracted to a family of orangutans (am I spelling that right?). I sat down quietly next to the glass enclosure and pretty soon a young mother ape sauntered up and started looking at me. She called her baby over and I felt certain she was proud of him and showing him off. In turn, I took off the hat I was wearing and held it up to the glass. She was not impressed. Then I called my sister over to the glass and sort of 'introduced' them. It was as if we had an understanding and were getting to know each other. The encounter stays with me to this day.

While I seem to instinctively know what animals want, I keep misinterpreting signals from human males. Recently, I bravely decided to tell a good friend that I found him attractive and asked him if he'd like to become more than friends. He was stunned and flummoxed by my question. I had misread all of his signals. His gentle reply was like so many others I have received in my lonely 46 years on this earth. They tell me I am a" kind-hearted person and will make some man very happy some day". I've heard it all before. In time, this minor hurt will fade and I'll eventually become attracted to another man. The cycle of happiness, laughter, hope, attraction and rejection will begin again. I'm supposed to learn from these mistakes but I don't think I ever will.

Here, kitty kitty kitty.

Friday, March 30, 2007

What Sparks Creativity?

I awoke one morning last week with an idea for an ethnomusicology topic. I recalled the musicians' referral service I used to use back when I was a struggling singer in Top-40 and cover bands. I paid a yearly subscription and my name was forwarded to groups looking for lead vocalists. I found work in 3 touring bands and 1 house band by using the service. I thought this pre-Internet networking system might make for interesting research. Surprisingly, I found the service still in existence, although now residing on the World Wide Web. I sought advice from ethno professors and friends on how I might approach the topic and I left a phone message for the service to verify my claims. Several days later, I got a message on my cell phone from the man who runs the referral service.

Then the bottom fell out of my world.

I hadn't heard this man's voice in over 20 years. But, it was the same, world-weary, dark and suspicious voice I had spoken to when I was trying to impress him with my green entertainment credentials. The same irritation and doubt I had sensed in him then was still present. That night, I was unable to sleep. I was taken on a cathartic journey into a very painful past.

Animal sounds, howling and screaming poured out of me as I released feelings from two decades worth of dashed dreams and day-to-day nightmares. Life was awful back then - all I ever wanted to do was sing but I had no mentors or guidelines on how to go about doing it. I joined those abysmal bands, knowing that I was "paying my dues". I endured all kinds of insults and indignities because I was sure all of the suffering was eventually going to lead to an exciting career in the music business. But, that career never happened. That night, I grieved for the young woman I was, with all of her naive hopes and plans. Somehow, with all of my years of therapy, I'd never mourned that part of my life. Several hours later, I was exhausted and able to go to sleep.

Since that night, I haven't been able to stop drawing and painting. I've made at least 25 small abstract watercolors in a week. I suppose my psyche is still releasing feelings and pain. Seven days later, my stomach still feels raw and winded. I guess there's still a lot of grief to discard. The drawing and painting feels good. I'm happy to create again.

Not sure when or if I'll get the strength to research that ethnomusicology paper.

Monday, February 05, 2007

I Feel Like Morgan Spurlock*

Already!

It has only been a couple of weeks and while I'm not sick of the flavor of pizza, my body is sick of it's nightly effects. A severe lack of fibre in my diet and waaaaaay too much cheese. I'll give you one guess what that means. Tummy troubles (the polite description).

But, I can tell you that I love the pizza company's cheese pizza and also their goat cheese and roasted garlic pie (on an olive oil crust) is oh so yummy.

Maybe if I start bringing broccoli and carrots in to work I'll feel better?


*Morgan Spurlock is the guy who made the film, "Super Size Me" and ate only McDonald's food for a month.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Would You Like Anchovies on that?

I got a part-time job in the burgeoning field of pizza delivery. Hooray!

I'm working for a local pizza company that makes the best pizza in Seattle. They have 35 call-center employees and make thousands of pizzas every night for folks all over the area. And they are a good company who has an excellent training program and nice people working for them. And I get to eat free pizza every night until I get sick of it!

I'll be making some money and I'll have time to look for something else during the day. It only took me a week to find a part-time job this year. Unlike last year when it took months and months.

With a door opening so quickly, it helps me believe that I've made the right decision to discontinue graduate school and enter the workforce.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Big Changes

I guess I jammed my fist on my reset button (see last post).

In a surprising move, I withdrew from the University on Monday. Here is why:

1. They denied me in-state status for tuition, even though I've been here for 13 months. Which means my tuition was 3 times what it should have been.
2. An alcoholic, depressed and psychotic professor gave me a 2.9 in his class when a grad student needs a 3.0 for the course to count.
3. There is absolutely no mentoring in my program. Professors are simply not available to discuss grades or what one can do to improve in their class. This is probably due to the fact that the program lost 50% of its funding last year and all of the profs are very, very bitter.
4. I found out I needed to take 9 EXTRA classes for pre-requisites, and that these classes had to be taken in a specific order. I was not told about this before enrolling or starting classes and missed the first course in the sequence. This added 2 years on to the program, making it 4 years for a Master's degree.
5. I was totally uninspired with the coursework and as I looked more into career prospects, found them to be sorely lacking.

And in 2 unrelated events:

a. On the first day of classes, my laptop got BOTH a virus and a hardware issue. It costs more to repair than replace ($ 400).
b. World's cutest dog, Dudley, ate my eye glasses.

I do not regret trying this out. I truly believe I gave it my best shot, even if it was only for one quarter. And, I met 2 wonderful fellow students. I hope we can be friends for a long time.

Now it is back to the classifieds. Time to earn some money and get back on my feet.