so better to climb than to face a fall.

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dateline: oZteau

26 november 1996 10:36 p.m.

The new "Schedule of Courses" came out this week. It feels way too early to have to be worrying about next semester, but on the other hand I get a cold chill every time I re-realize we're only a few days away from December. It's frustrating. I'm still saying to myself, "I really will have my act together by the time the semester really gets started." And there's only a dozen more days of classes left. Hell, I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water -- I feel like it's been that way all year. Then I remember I'm a part-time student. I dropped a class two months ago, and school's still leaving me totally whipped at the end of every day. (I pulled an all-nighter on Monday night to write a paper I'd forgotten about, finishing it up half an hour before the class -- making for a mighty daring drive up Kapahulu.) Yes, standing on the threshold of another five months of academic incarceration, again I'm questioning if I'm cut out for this college thing. They're pulling the early tuition deadline deal again, apparently in the hopes of weeding out students who really aren't serious about attending classes and saving seats for the truly deserving. Frankly, it's sounding more and more like they're looking to shake people like me out. I'm just losing my taste for credit hours, and hungering for more wage hours. It's summer all over again. I'm in my fifth year of "higher education," miles from any payoff, while almost every single friend I have -- who either left college or didn't even go in the first place -- has made it in the Real World quite swimmingly. But it's not just that. I come from a long line of degree-holders, stretching so far back that at one point, getting a bachelor's degree was considered an excess. I know it's good for me. Really. Like beets. The thing is, tuition isn't getting any lower, and it's due on December 20. It's insane to think that anyone, let alone a student, can flip open their checkbook and nonchalantly write a check for $1,300 five days before Christmas. I've already ranted at my mom, and she's offering to cover me. It wouldn't be the first time she's bailed me out, she said, and at least this time it isn't a Visa bill, car accident or unscheduled hospital visit. I really don't understand what parenthood does to the human brain. I would never be that generous. Or at least charge interest. ("Well," mom did say, "I haven't ruled that out.") I confess, there is a part of me that is confident I'm going to remain tethered in Manoa Valley, no matter how much or how long it takes to get that damn piece of embossed paper. But it is nice to occasionally indulge in fantasies of flight. Hau`oli la ho`omaika`i -- Happy Thanksgiving (or more literally, happy day of thanks). Actually, as ever, I have much to be thankful for... probably much more than one would think someone as cranky as I would have ("patient friends" merit particular mention). I never make a list, though, because when I try I can't stop. And that fact in itself is probably one of the things I most appreciate this time of year. Sounds sentimental and deep, sure, but in reality holidays have never been that special for me. For most of my teen years, mom and I only had thanksgiving dinner when our laziness didn't get the best of us. And I can't remember the last time we had a Christmas tree. Since I moved out, Thanksgiving (and other "big" holidays) have taken on a little more meaning, but not much. While I now make an effort to spend it with her (I'd missed more than a few before), we're content just to sit and chat, without a single bite of turkey. The most "all out" we've gone in the last four years is going to Sizzler's. Tomorrow will probably be a repeat of last year -- lots of crackers, cheap caviar, and wine -- mixed with a dab of sappy Thanksgiving Day television and lots and lots of "remember when" stories. This just in. The Girl Scouts national council has officially revised the scout charter to remove the pledge to be "cheerful." I can see it now. "Look, lady, are you going to buy the damn cookies or not?" For the record, I was never a girl scout. I tried to kill one in grade school.