Around here there's no winter semester but two summer semesters. Don't try to figure it out, just accept it as I have. On Monday I began coursework for Summer I, and I'm still debating if I want to attempt Summer II.
With semester came the return of the migraine. And here I thought I was going to have a nice, easy semester.
The tension induced headache probably comes from sleeping funny (I've switched beds several times now that I've been back and forth from my family's house), settling back into yoga-ball-as-desk-chair and generally stressing out about money.
Go figure. Money. What everyone is stressing out about right now.
I should really be out seeking part-time menial employment but these headaches are keeping me in the house. The part of me that does not want to spend time scrubbing counters or folding slacks (again) wonders if a combination of tiny freelance gigs and selling plasma will keep me afloat until I can teach again. On that note I need to do like many a Michigander and trek down to my local jewelry store to sell some outdated gold jewelry. Sheesh. I'm so high class right now.
The summer course is on Linguistics. Linguistics appears to be its own freaky little world with theories that might undo all the good writerly habits I've picked up this past semester. But more on that later.
