Once Upon A Time . . .
Once upon a time a baby girl was born; she grew up, went away to college, had a wonderful career, opened a 401K and married her prince charming. . . that baby girl was NOT me.
I grew up (kind of); blew my college savings drinking my way through Europe, held down a string of truly odd odd jobs, and became a poverty ridden single mom who talks baby talk to her chihuahua.
-Flash forward a few years - I'm currently looking at the ass crack of 50 and unemployed. I am physically a mess - at that wonderful point in a middle aged lady's life where I suffer from BOTH PMS AND menopause, so now I sweat profusely as I sit in front of the fan alternately screaming, yelling, snarfing M&Ms and asking "Is it me - or is it hot in here?". I've started to pee my pants, just a little when I laugh or sneeze and sometimes for no reason at all. Parts of my anatomy are not staying where the God Lord intended them to be. If I go bra-less, my boobs chafe my waist. Two weeks ago I got bifocals and I'm still walking like a drunken stroke patient - and stairs with bifocals, let's just say I take the elevator. Ya get the point.
I am a professional and financial mess. My previous jobs have included, mascot at Kiddieland, (I was Chippy the Chipmunk). I was a nanny, an unpaid radio newscaster and worked for 2 days at a Subway Sandwich shop (I quit because the mayonnaise caused me great anxiety - people were never happy - lite mayonnaise, spicy mayonnaise, regular mayonnaise, too little mayonnaise, too much mayonnaise. I could handle all the other condiments, but the mayonnaise drove me freakin bat poop crazy! Hello, I was a "sandwich artist", not The Amazing Kreskin!) In addition, my professional qualifications include a string of sporadic entry level clerical jobs. I have an ugly resume. Finances - Ov vey ismir!!! I honestly believe the people at my bank think I am retarded; when they see me they get this phony smile and start to talk very slowly. I go into the bank every other week with a pile of ATM slips and let them straighten it out. That's their job, kind of like fiduciary mayonnaise. I think the daily average balance on my account is $1.65. Once, I got my account down to 4 cents! I am terrible with money, but I figure hey, you can't play for the NBA if you've never seen a basket ball - same thing with money.
So - waking up one day and finding myself middle aged, unemployed and broke I did the only logical thing - I drove to Taco Bell, ordered a soft shell taco supreme and then applied for college. Living in Bloomington Indiana, home of Indiana University (suck it Purdue) made the whole procedure pretty easy. A ton of paperwork, 14 phone calls, several tearful visits to the admissions office - and badda bing!!!! I am accepted, apparently I fall into a "special" category at the university - the chronologically challenged, aka older adult student. A Pell grant and $20,000 in student loans later and I am on my way. Now - what to study . . .
There is a hierarchy at the university - a subject pecking order if you will and it goes something like this:
At the top there are the ics: physics, mathematics, the ologys: biology, anthropology, the rys as in chemistry and anything that ends inscience: computer science, geological science etc. Next comes all the studies: gender studies, religious studies, followed by everything else. I knew right off the bat that the ics and ologys weren't for me - too much math. The same goes for the sciences. I wasn't interested in most of the studies so after careful consideration - I chose . . . . Chinese. Hey, I like egg rolls, fireworks and Bruce Lee, so - why not Chinese. It makes perfect sense to me, with a population of over 1.3 billion, the only thing more plentiful than Chinese folks on this plant is McDonalds, and I knew I didn't want to work there - so Chinese it is!
Three days until school starts. I got my books, my student ID and a pen. I am scared to death. What if they don't like me? I mean I'm old enough to be their mother. I worry that I won't be included, that I won't be popular. I worry about all kinds of things and then I stop and think, hey, I've got things those kids don't have: I have wisdom, maturity, and I am legally able to purchase alcohol. And then I think, maybe this won't be so bad. And maybe like Mary Tyler Moore - I'm going to make it after all. My Chinese language and literature books sit by the front door, right along side my bifocals and cholesterol meds. Let the countdown begin. I am ready. Ready to learn new things, ready to start a new chapter in my life. I am not old - like a fine wine, or a classic car, or a Bob Mackie sequin pantsuit, I am vintage.
I grew up (kind of); blew my college savings drinking my way through Europe, held down a string of truly odd odd jobs, and became a poverty ridden single mom who talks baby talk to her chihuahua.
-Flash forward a few years - I'm currently looking at the ass crack of 50 and unemployed. I am physically a mess - at that wonderful point in a middle aged lady's life where I suffer from BOTH PMS AND menopause, so now I sweat profusely as I sit in front of the fan alternately screaming, yelling, snarfing M&Ms and asking "Is it me - or is it hot in here?". I've started to pee my pants, just a little when I laugh or sneeze and sometimes for no reason at all. Parts of my anatomy are not staying where the God Lord intended them to be. If I go bra-less, my boobs chafe my waist. Two weeks ago I got bifocals and I'm still walking like a drunken stroke patient - and stairs with bifocals, let's just say I take the elevator. Ya get the point.
I am a professional and financial mess. My previous jobs have included, mascot at Kiddieland, (I was Chippy the Chipmunk). I was a nanny, an unpaid radio newscaster and worked for 2 days at a Subway Sandwich shop (I quit because the mayonnaise caused me great anxiety - people were never happy - lite mayonnaise, spicy mayonnaise, regular mayonnaise, too little mayonnaise, too much mayonnaise. I could handle all the other condiments, but the mayonnaise drove me freakin bat poop crazy! Hello, I was a "sandwich artist", not The Amazing Kreskin!) In addition, my professional qualifications include a string of sporadic entry level clerical jobs. I have an ugly resume. Finances - Ov vey ismir!!! I honestly believe the people at my bank think I am retarded; when they see me they get this phony smile and start to talk very slowly. I go into the bank every other week with a pile of ATM slips and let them straighten it out. That's their job, kind of like fiduciary mayonnaise. I think the daily average balance on my account is $1.65. Once, I got my account down to 4 cents! I am terrible with money, but I figure hey, you can't play for the NBA if you've never seen a basket ball - same thing with money.
So - waking up one day and finding myself middle aged, unemployed and broke I did the only logical thing - I drove to Taco Bell, ordered a soft shell taco supreme and then applied for college. Living in Bloomington Indiana, home of Indiana University (suck it Purdue) made the whole procedure pretty easy. A ton of paperwork, 14 phone calls, several tearful visits to the admissions office - and badda bing!!!! I am accepted, apparently I fall into a "special" category at the university - the chronologically challenged, aka older adult student. A Pell grant and $20,000 in student loans later and I am on my way. Now - what to study . . .
There is a hierarchy at the university - a subject pecking order if you will and it goes something like this:
At the top there are the ics: physics, mathematics, the ologys: biology, anthropology, the rys as in chemistry and anything that ends inscience: computer science, geological science etc. Next comes all the studies: gender studies, religious studies, followed by everything else. I knew right off the bat that the ics and ologys weren't for me - too much math. The same goes for the sciences. I wasn't interested in most of the studies so after careful consideration - I chose . . . . Chinese. Hey, I like egg rolls, fireworks and Bruce Lee, so - why not Chinese. It makes perfect sense to me, with a population of over 1.3 billion, the only thing more plentiful than Chinese folks on this plant is McDonalds, and I knew I didn't want to work there - so Chinese it is!
Three days until school starts. I got my books, my student ID and a pen. I am scared to death. What if they don't like me? I mean I'm old enough to be their mother. I worry that I won't be included, that I won't be popular. I worry about all kinds of things and then I stop and think, hey, I've got things those kids don't have: I have wisdom, maturity, and I am legally able to purchase alcohol. And then I think, maybe this won't be so bad. And maybe like Mary Tyler Moore - I'm going to make it after all. My Chinese language and literature books sit by the front door, right along side my bifocals and cholesterol meds. Let the countdown begin. I am ready. Ready to learn new things, ready to start a new chapter in my life. I am not old - like a fine wine, or a classic car, or a Bob Mackie sequin pantsuit, I am vintage.
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