I've spent more than ten years struggling to make something of myself and every time I think I've found an answer, everything picks apart in an instant and I wonder what I did to deserve such failure. Every time I try to color inside the lines, I get my hand slapped and it's starting to leave permanent marks. It hurts like hell.


My Grey-Eyed Monster got an honorary doctorate today and it's completely bittersweet to me.

On one side of things, I am thrilled to fucking pieces. I want to run up and grab him and hug him and squee my little head off.

On the other hand, it reminds me that I want a masters and I want a doctorate. Well, except I plan to earn them. And it makes me wonder what I've done with my life; if anything.

But I have to remember one thing…one in many: people get honorary doctorates after many years of establishing a body of work that schools can look at and make a decision with. (Not only that, but look at Bill Prady [one of the EPs of Big Bang Theory]–he wants an honorary degree [even to the point of an honorary associates], he has his hand on the highest rated comedy on television and he can't get anyone to give him one!)

Does your sweetheart have four books out (and is he constantly trying to write a fifth)? No.

Does he have two appearances in a collegiate literary review? Probably not.

Is he trilingual? I don't think he's even bilingual.

Does he have a 112 IQ? Maybe.

Does he have an unusually lengthy memory? Probably not. (Mine isn't eidetic or anything like that…it's just strangely extensive on "absolutely useless things". Makes Jeopardy fun. 😉 )




Maybe I'm just having one of my bad nights.

Except for my career problems, I am pretty cool…or so I think.

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