Entering (Barely-Accredited) University Doors

How do I get these stupid time stamps off my pictures?
They make my blog look uncharacteristically unprofessional.

Until recently, I had not noticed that every time I accessed a website via a Google search, it thoughtfully informed me how many times I had visited it. For example, when I type in certain online shopping sites, it attempts to incite feelings of guilt on my part, by reminding me, "You have visited this site MANY times." It does not actually use the all-capital nagging, but if I were to bring up a listing of webpages discussing neuroscience, it would announce on each one, "You have never visited this site. Not even once. Nor should you. You would just become hopelessly confused."

So it has succeeded in making me feel guilty. And stupid. But it shouldn't feel too proud of itself, because I was headed in that direction anyway. Thus my return to "higher" education. As we know from language arts courses, "higher" is a relative term, and let's just say that I have set my higher bar pretty low. It is really positioned more at the height of a limbo bar at an Olympic gymnast's party.  Really, I am just trying to avoid any classes that list "Seuss, Dr." as the author of their textbooks.

Come to think of it, Dr. Seuss could really help with my poetry skills. I do not have any pre-existing talents in this area (or, unfortunately, in any other area that is featured in any college class) and the prospect of being graded on something that has to rhyme and make sense at the same time is quite daunting. I've never managed to accomplish either feat separately, a fact of which you are obviously aware if you have made it this far into my blog. I did, however, come up with this gem as I screamed at my children on their way out of the door in the morning:

Here I have your flowered backpack.
Who forgot his Pac-Man knapsack?
Do you want to starve for lunch?
Do you not want food to munch?"

That is all I have so far, but I hope to develop it into a work that will garner millions of dollars someday. That was, after all, why I decided to study English. I am in it for the money. I have heard that English BA's can skip right past the stepping stone of entry-level fry cook, and begin their careers as full-blown fast food condiment stockers. I will be the girl in the fabulous paper hat, filling the ketchup dispenser.

Don't be afraid to approach me and ask for an autograph. We BA candidates are used to the attention.