This morning, I’ve been getting all my ducks in a row so that I can register for my first prerequisite classes for nursing school. In the fall, I plan to take Anatamoy and Physiology and then either Chemistry or Microbiology. I had planned on taking Chem, but saw today that I had a math pre-req to meet for the class. Which I have, but they don’t know I have. So I’m hoping they can get my records to reflect that before midnight tonight because I just kind of want to get chemistry out of the way. Reasons being obvious, I assume.
But it is unlikely that they will get my records straight in time for midnight registration, and so I have the backup plan of taking the easy way out with Microbiology if I can’t do Chemistry. Good golly, I’m in for a wild ride.
And while I was figuring all this out, I was alerted to a review that went up about the show that I opened on Monday. And it was just a little moment of bittersweet irony.
I know reviews are only one person’s opinion of our work and that, as artists, it is imperative that we remember this. But even so, as I embark on my new journey into medicine, I found this review bittersweet. More sweet than bitter.