Musings

Dear Gentle Reader,

I wish I were a more prolific writer on this blog. But alas, I have fallen into the same steps as my favorite bloggers—Girlyman & Jane Espenson (Jane is a screenwriter. And if you don’t know who or what a Girlyman is, I won’t bother trying to explain.). I’ve followed both of their blogs for many moons.

Jane, in yesteryears, was only able to crank out a blog entry once or twice a month. More recently, she has posted that she will no longer be writing even that frequently due to her illustrious and prestigious career as a full time writer. The weeping was profuse, as you might have imagined on my part, when I heard the situation was thus.

Girlyman is worse. They only write when they feel like it. So sometimes there will be two or three entries in one week, and then nothing for the next three months. I’m always grateful, but it depresses me verily having to wait so long.

I realize there is no reason on earth for me to believe that I enjoy as many followers as they. Also I am neither a famous writer, nor am I a not-so-famous, but busy touring band member. I do boast a full time work schedule, part time school schedule, and a spot on several sports teams. But you know…those seem kind of peanuts, comparatively.

And now I’m going to change the subject.

Postgraduate work.

“What is this?” You may be wondering. That’s a good question. Because up until two months ago, I couldn’t have told you what the crap it was either. Upon further research however, I came to discover there are three levels to the path of Ph. D-hood.

1. Bachelors
2. Graduate Work
3. Postgraduate Work/Doctorial Candidacy

Cute, huh?

I mean, it makes logical sense to call it that. I just never knew that was the proper terminology.

“What’s this got to do with the price of eggs, Becky?”

Well folks, it would seem as I get older, and the more schooling I acquire (however slowly), I’ve discovered an inconvenient truth—my brain will never be happy until it’s reached the top of the mountain known as University Education (I sincerely wish there were some way for me to make those two words sparkle.).

Ironically, I used to believe that the top of my “Blue Ridge” would be at the end of my bachelors. That seemed the logical conclusion. Especially considering I don’t know anyone inside of my immediate circle of friends who has any intention of taking such drastic efforts to remain irrevocably and permanently poor. Also, I’m hardly the type. My academic track record, up until recently, has been saturated in mediocrity the way a French fry is inundated with grease.

I don’t know what’s changed, really. I tried just as hard in Biology and Geography as I did in Early British Literature. I still got a “C” in all of them. Of course, by the time I was finishing up at BYU, I was rollin’ in the puppies with a low ball “A” semester average. Right now I’m a 4.0 girl. Which makes me wonder, “Is Weber easier? Am I maturing? Is Joss Wheden’s Dollhouse going to fail because it got a Friday Night time slot?” All valid inquiries.

What I do know is this. My proverbial Blue Ridge’s Mt. Jackson or even my Wasatch Front’s Mt. Timpanogos are not enough of a hike. I’m thinkin’ Yosemite’s El Capitan or The Tetons. Those seem like more appropriate goals. Right now I’m weighing my options as ISU and the U of U. We’ll see what we can find.