Do Not Forget About Your Education

Do Not Forget About Your Education

I had great intentions, this morning. After going on a long run all around the “Witch’s Hat,” neighborhood last evening, I was all pumped and ready to get up bright and early, and go on an invigorating morning run. My plans were thwarted by my nearly nocturnal sleeping schedule that I have slipped into. Having a job with irregular hours does not help, of course. I woke up at 9am, and then decided to take another 2 hour nap. After I had a bowl of oatmeal (using a packet that I had scavenged from work) and realized that there really wasn’t much of anything else for me to do, so I finally got up and ready for the day around the crack of noon. I spent a little time doing my hair, putting on some makeup… you know, looking presentable for my thrilling closing shift at work tonight. Can’t wait for all the regulars to see me in my cute little overalls…. bet’cha they’ll all go ape shit. Anyways, I needed to go to the pharmacy to pick up my brand, spanking new “Nuva Ring.’ I am slightly hesitant about using it – those commercials seem too good to be true. One little vaginally inserted gummi bracelet ended up costing me a cool $60! Not having health insurance sucks. Fuck this. Anyways, the pharmacy that I went to was a little, old-fashioned corner store in an old brick building on University Ave. It is easy to overlook, at first, until you start reading all of the hand-lettered signs and murals in every available window reading, “Healthcare for All!” “The Secret to Democracy is Eduacation for All Citizens!” “We Are Citizens of the World!” “Working Together, we can Create the Great, American Renaissance!” I got the feeling that I would like this place. I walk in, and it sort of reminded me of Olivander’s Wand Shop in Harry Potter. Only, instead of wand-boxes being crammed into every available space, there were boxes upon boxes upon boxes of band-aids, bandages, notecards, cold medicines, homeopathic remedies, incense, an impressive collection of vintage, wind-up tin soldiers and robots, Hindu calendars, and much, much more. I could barely tell where the merchandise ended, and where the countertops began. From behind a large stack of Ace Bandages, I could barely spot a shock of frizzy, white hair that I soon identified as the pharmacist. His name was Paul, and he spoke with a lovely, vaguely Indian accent. He had hair like Doc Brown in Back to the Future, tanned skin, and was wearing a pin-striped, Oxford shirt and a large pair of black, horn-rimmed spectacles that made his eyes seem two sizes too big for the rest of his face. After he got done ringing me up, he asked me what I was up to. I explained that I had just moved here from Chicago, and that my fiancé was starting graduate school at the U of M this fall, so I had gotten a job and moved in with him. He asked me (very pointedly) if I was thinking about graduate school. I told him that I wasn’t looking at graduate programs at the moment, and that I had just graduated from college, so I was planning on working for a little while before I figured out what to do with my life. He told me that there were a great many institutions of higher learning in the area, and then he said, “Do not forget about your own education.” I was a bit perplexed, because he knew that I had just graduated from college. Did he mean for me to be looking at professional programs? Was he telling me that I shouldn’t stop now, that I should be trying to get into a graduate program? I wonder if he could read my mind – that I was finding it tempting to just hang out and work for a few years, not having to worry about school, higher degrees, or much of anything else. His demeanor reminded me of an Indian mystic – I could just as easily picture him in a Hare-Krishna robe as in his lab-coat. I said goodbye to him, as I was leaving, and he said again, “Do not forget about your education.” Huh… weird. Now the big question is, ‘What do I want to get educated in??’ (Cue life crisis!!!)