Five Hundred, Twelve Dollars and Thirty Five Cents

I think I'm going to write a really honky tonk style country song with that title. It has a nice ring to it.

Here we go again...

I'm going back to school. Some of you may not have been with my on my last journey through higher education. For those of you needing a recap on the Donkey Ball Suckage that went on there, please feel free to click here.

My last attempt at education was successful, but very trying. I don't know if all institutions of higher learning are as difficult. But I figure I may as well find out while I'm still young and limber.

I currently have *trumpets, please* a Bachelor's Degree in Social Science with Concentration in Sociology. It sounds dreamy, doesn't it? Fancy, cultured, aware.I also have a diploma in Child and Youth Work. I love the sound of my credentials. My alphabet soup, I believe, is "Bsc Soc, CYW." Nine whole letters. If only I had a business card.

Unfortunately, these credentials just aren't doing it for me. I need more.

I need an Honour's Degree in Sociology.

And then...

I need a Master's degree. (Oh, Yes. I said the "M" word.) (The Master's will NOT be in Sociology. There are only so many places a degree in studying the idiotic crap that people do will take you, and I don't plan on going to those particular places.)

I went to one of my schools today (I will be doing some courses in person on a campus, and some courses through distance education) and as I was practically dancing through the campus after a successful meeting, my mother turned to my dearest friend and said:

"This from the high school dropout."

Indeed, I was prancing around stating that if I could walk and tap my heels together, I would. After all, it is not every day that you go somewhere to pay thousands of dollars for an education, and the administration speaks to you in your native tongue. I could have hugged each person I dealt with. Really. I wanted to. It is also not every day that you wake up and think that you can take a new direction in your life, and then actually put on pants and start getting it done.

I've perused the course lists, I've selected a course, paid a little bit of money and accumulated two student numbers.

I'm excited. I don't plan do be done my studies until I'm thirty, so no need to move too quickly. No need to place undue pressure on the person who has horse show aspirations and a million hour per week job.

Here we go again, indeed.