College plans

A few months ago, I obtained financial aid so I could go back to college. A few weeks ago, I settled on a major. It's not the one I wanted, or any of the ones I wanted, for that matter. There's no English degree or History degree forthcoming. Hell, I couldn't even manage to pull off changing my entire life in order to get a degree in Hospitality and Tourism, seeing as they wanted me in too many places on too many different days working through too many different schedules.

I'm returning to the college that gave me my first degree - my A.A. It took me 15 years to get that baby and it's not doing much in the way of making me look uberspecial in the pool of overqualified applicants for any job in the world. One of the reasons it took me so long to get this degree is because I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. I've been a waitress, a hotel know-it-all, an accountant, a call center punching bag, a student, and a mom. But what I'd really like to be is a legal assistant specializing in family law, a writer, a tutor, a cross-country traveler, a contestant on The Great American Road Trip, and a hotel know-it-all again. And because of my inability to make a decision and stick with it (though I blame this more on my desire to know about everything and not spend so much time focusing on one thing), I chose to pursue a degree in Supervision and Management.

Does it sound generic and bland? Yep. But I'll learn so much about alot of things like marketing, human resources, customer service, accounting, computer programming, business ethics and law, technical writing, and a host of other things. Enough to keep me busy for the next two years. And I expect I'll not be bored but only because I'll have my attention shifting from one field to another.

Unfortunately, I have to write an essay about why I think this degree will help me in my career. I've considered a couple of different themes. The first being "This Degree Will Help Me In My Career By Hopefully Making Me Stop Job-hopping So I Can Stick Around Long Enough To GET A Career." My coworker advised me that sarcasm is not necessarily the way to go. So I thought being a straight shooter would grab their attention by giving my essay a title such as "I'm Tired of Being Everyone's Bitch". I haven't thrown this particular idea out for discussion but I have a feeling it won't fly.

But, really, no matter what field I choose to work in I will have at least a little bit of street cred with a four-year degree. I already have experience in finance and accounting, property management, customer service, front desk management, sales and marketing, military billeting, making a badass pot of coffee for my directors, and wrangling a gaggle of eight-year old girls away from birthday cake candles that could light them up in flames in a matter of seconds if they don't get their faces away from that cake right now!

If only I knew how to word it.

Moving on...and up...or out

In about an hour, I'll be heading to the local college to meet with a program director about obtaining my Hospitality and Tourism Management degree. In about two months, I plan on taking my first class to be counted as a core class credit. In about a year, I plan on having that degree in my hand. In the meantime, I want to be working at one of two brand new hotels that are scheduled to open by mid-summer. I'm afraid to admit this: I'm excited.

I've been excited about things before. Like moving to Florida in 1996. Or discovering how much I liked Columbia, South Carolina, enough to consider moving there. Or even the possibility of taking a dream job at the Chesapeake Beach Resort in Maryland after being away for 11 years. Every time I get excited about something, it fails. I fail. Something fails. Usually it's my own confidence.

And here's why: I've never had to take care of myself completely. Back in 1999, I moved into an apartment with a friend of mine in Gainesville, Florida. Seven months later, I moved back in with my parents to save up the money I would need to move back to Maryland, into a quaint little 2 bedroom apartment in downtown Annapolis. A few months after that, I met a guy. We all know how that ended. And I've never left my parents' home since then.

I've had offers from girlfriends who needed a roommate, but I always felt that I would impede on their life as a single woman. My number one rule has always been that no man would ever be allowed to stay the night, as my guest or as hers. I didn't want my child to see that. But I also didn't want to be the girl that wouldn't allow her roommate to have a romantic social life.

I've had offers to move to other states when other girlfriends were in a position to help me. I never took anyone up on those offers, either. Usually because the state of Florida won't allow me to, but also because I was just plain terrified. What if I finally moved out of my parents' house but couldn't move out of their house? I would be right back where I started, with another host to suck from. Yes, I would feel like a parasite.

So, post-court trial, here I am. In my parents' house, still. The debt is no longer mounting and is gradually being paid down. However, I am no more employable than I was, let's say, three years ago. And this is why I feel I have to do this. This meeting means more to me than just getting back into school. It means more to me than just having something in the world that is all mine, and mine alone (some people have their pilates class, some people have social time in college!). It means making myself useful, making myself needed, making myself...well, myself.

Over the years, and over the past few hours, I have asked myself numerous times if I am actually trying hard enough. The answer? Probably not. Do other women have the same struggles, raising one or more children without the support of their parents? Do other women manage to work full-time and continue their education without the support of their extended family? The answer is yes. However, some women don't have the choice to stay in a safe, comfortable neighborhood until they can afford to move to a different safe, comfortable neighborhood. And I do. I refuse to gather up my measly monthly wages and rent a place with bars on the windows and condoms on the sidewalk. Because I don't have to. Not yet, at least.

But my welcome is wearing thin, on my family, on my daughter, on myself. It's been a great relief to know that I would only have to worry about paying for daycare, food, and legal bills, instead of all three + rent and utilities. Because not only would I be living in an apartment with bars on the windows and condoms on the sidewalk, so would my daughter. And that's just not good enough for her.

Wish me luck.