A week from this coming Monday I will begin taking classes at the graduate level. I am excited, but at the same time I am really, really nervous about it. If you don't know, I am going to be attending Eastern Illinois University, getting my MA in Professional Writing. I have been thinking lately, I am getting a Master's degree...if this doesn't work out, or if it turns out that I am not that good of a writer or editor, then we are really up [crap] creek, as the saying goes. What do I do then? Go back for more school? I have been joking with Ashlee, because I haven't been able to find really steady work with my English degree, that I should go back and get a BS in some sort of engineering field.
Besides the anxiety associated with the uncertainty of the career choice being a good one to begin with, I am also uber-nervous about being a graduate student. It's like I am getting ready to go out on stage for a concert to play music that I haven't really practiced enough, or to play a character who's lines are a little unclear.
This is where the illustration comes in. The definition above, taken from Merrriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, mentions "physiological signs" but neglects to list among those signs the overwhelming sensation that I have been suffering lately. Too often in the last few weeks have I felt the undeniable urge to bow myself before the porcelain shrine.

Gratefully, I have not yet endured anything comparable to the regurgitory stylings displayed by the two unfortunate individuals pictured above. But hey, I have two years ahead of me.
Wish me luck and happy hurling.



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