open your book to chapter nine

We're going deep boys and girls, so grab your gear.

I can feel myself reaching for the analogy-metaphor-hyper-drive, but I'll try to keep it to the straight and narrow.

As we know, I have a stupid range of interests. I'm a girl with a bucket list that includes storm chasing, racing open wheel, and swimming in a cage up close and personal with a great white. Probably, the great white is the one I want and am most terrified of at the same time—so you know I do have a tiny bit of common sense.

But as usual, I digress. The point is that I've dabbled in radio, the hotel industry, private investigations, advertising, feature writing, graphic design, directory publishing, billing, and collegiate and government administration. I'm also on the cusp of professional photography. And fortunately for anyone I work for, I can be the best damn Girl Friday you'll ever meet.

If you get me on the spot and ask me to blurt out what I want—I want to be a travel writer. I also want to stay in school. I miss English lit. I want to be able to travel and paint and do photography and of course, dance.

I do not like cubical land and I do not like giant bureaucracies. I could freelance; I have the discipline. Hell, sometimes I have enough discipline for you, too. I don't like being without insurance and I do like being around other people. I miss putting my face in a book. And I miss writing features.

I get a crazy warm and fuzzy feeling that sends me over the moon when school starts. My happiest moments have been spent in a group discussion of literary characters. One of the most profound experiences of my life was going to England and Ireland to stand and face the places I've studied and see the monuments of my dreams.

I love the north. I crave returning to Nantucket and there is still Bangor and Halifax on my list of dream destinations. Not to mention that voice in my head calling me back to London.

I do love my art classes and there is still much that I want to learn. I still want to take that damn art history class. It always goes back to school with me.

So… why not teach? I get all goose bumpy at the prospect of teaching high school or better yet college lit classes.

Yeah, I'm a freak.

So, I've got the paperwork for a Masters of Arts in English in front of me. I may be late to the party, but I always show up fashionably late anyway.

The questions is: Will I swim with the shark before or after I complete the program?