One more semester I endure at the Lancaster state school where Marauders dwell, with a class schedule, one 3-hour literature class a week, allowing the freedom to work an actual job, allegedly, and engage in more creative pursuits.
Originally taking two classes, dropping one when moments of stress created dire visions that foreshadowed the rest of the semester, and all I could think, "T-S (not Eliot) I'm not engaging with stress, I'm done with it." A higher level sociology class I no longer needed when my real passion guided me through the rest of my degree plan, and that is the simple art of writing, long my strength, my art, and my aspiration to be a vehicle I can use to make my mark, no pun intended, on the world.
Ever questioning the desire to continue on with my degree plan, my education will go on despite how I engage myself with institutes of higher learning.
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