Back to school, old lady style.

I decided to go back to school in January. I am tired of the same old, unchallenging job, and working with kids who have no desire to be where they are, forever so how could I possibly lead them or give them drive as their manager? They are all college kids. They know that the job they hold now is only tentative. I thought to myself, "why should I have to accept this reality for myself, I am only 32. Who says I cant go back to school?" So, here I am. I always had the desire to be in the medical field so I am not only going back to school, but im going to DO IT UP, I'm going straight for my master's degree. Why not right?

Although I was excited to challenge myself, and I knew I was always good at being a student in the past, I became more intimidated as the beginning of the semester crept up in January. What if I forgot how to study? How will I find the time to do homework and take care of my kids? What if I took too many credits? What if I suck at being a student now? What if my brain is too old to learn these things? All of these seemingly silly, but very real thoughts pummeled my consiousness almost every second of my day. I was really worried that I was getting ahead of myself.

Now that I am almost at midterm, I realize I was worried for nothing. I am still a good student, if not better. I have a goal in mind. I have more responsibilty now than I did when I was 20, so I have learned to better manage my life, and furthermore my homework and study. I love school. I love the new challenge. Yes, my brain is still capable of retaining all of the priceless information I am receiving from my excellent instructors. One of my instructors told me I shouldnt worry, that I am more likely to succeed now, than when I was younger. He was right. Yes, going back to school in my thirties, with children is hard work. It is the most welcome hard work I could have ever imagined. I hope someone reads this and finds the courage to do the same.

VH1: Video Hits One? Wha? Where?

I am guilty. I am sucked into watching episode after episode of Rock of Love, Scott Baio is Mid-Life something or other, and now the latest Celebrity Rehab. It is repulsive to me that VH1 used to be a MUSIC channel, just like MTV. Now you only have to be loosely (and I mean loosely) affilited with the music world to have a place on this network with your own reality show! Sometimes they give you a sequel, if you are really f'd up.

The idea that all of the same "celebrities" that I saw romping naked, in drunken stupors on the Surreal Life, are now patients of Dr. Drew (from Loveline) in a real drug and alcohol rehabilition center on national television makes me laugh. COME ON people, this is a real illness that everyday people struggle with and now its being sensationalized on a music network, that isnt really a music network? WHAT THE HELL? No wonder Britney is crazy and Paris is a convict, and Nicole needs to eat an entire burger king to fit into a size 0.

Did I mention I love this shit?

Death and Taxes

My grandfather always said, "theres two things that are certain in this life, DEATH and TAXES!" I think of him today even, after his death many years ago. Grandpa Jim was my king, I was twelve, and he meant the world to me. He named me, and treated me like his princess. I remember thinking of him in his casket, and I was really upset that I couldn't cry.

Again, this week I lost another grandfather. Grandpa Bob, he was completely the opposite. Boy he was a pistol, strong and witty, yet loving and loyal. He was my step-grandpa, ever since I was five. He treated me like his family from day one. I missed getting to tell him I loved him, and how proud I was to call him Grandpa, by an hour or so. IT SUCKS.

A friend of mine, is also losing her battle with cancer as we speak. She's too damn young to die. A beautiful person, friend, and mother. My life is surrounded in death right now.

Life is what is keeping me strong. Young and full of life, my son's keep my chin up. My six year old went to Grandpa Bobs funeral and wake this week. He was a military man, so he got the gun salutes, the flag and honors. My son loved grandpa bob. When seeing him laying there in the open casket, he immediately started to cry and ask me questions relating to his own mortality. "Mommy, are you still gonna be my mommy in heaven?" "are there video games there?" "is that why grandpa looks so young in that coffin?" I didnt want to tell him it was because of the makeup.

The one of the hardest things I've ever had to do besides asking my grandmother on her deathbed, "do you want to see a minister?", was talking to my son about death, and then having to give him the answers. Giving him those answers reminded me that its okay. Death is certain, just like taxes, and its okay.