In another attempt to delay the microbiology homework at hand, I return to my blog.
I've officially entered my last semester in what has turned out to be the longest undergraduate college career in history. The reality of the situation has hit me like the proverbial ton of bricks: eight years and tens of thousands of dollars later, I have earned (or will, if I can survive the final semester) the equivalent of a high school diploma. My original plan--finish the Physician Assistant graduate program in outstanding fashion and go on to save poor starving people in third world countries--doesn't seem very likely at this stage of the game. Who knew at the start of my education journey that upon completion I'd be old and just barely holding together a household with two much more opinionated children? Damn you, blind optimism...
I've been told flexibility is important for survival--which goes against every let's-make-a-plan-and-stick-to-it fiber of my being. So, in the name of personal growth, I've reevaluated where I'm at and where I'm going...and I've decided that I'm packing my bags and moving to Portland. Possibly Seattle. My backup plan is to attend Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and complete a master's program in epidemiology. Possibly infectious disease. I'm equally optimistic about either plan...
I'm neurotic today because...
The countdown to graduation has begun...118 days, 22 hours, 54 minutes, and 1 second (seriously, I'm counting) until I don the cap and gown and drag across the stage at Johnny Unitas Stadium the shell of what used to be a highly motivated overachiever.
