I like to write ... and I have as long as I can remember. Yeah, there was a period during my later school years when I found writing unbearable; but for most of my life I've loved to write. I've kept a journal for years, and now I'm blogging - sort of - and that seems like fun too. Maybe the blog won't last, but it's always good to try something new. For the record, I consider journaling and blogging two different endeavours; two means to different ends.
The company I work for has offered to pay my tuition if I'd like to go back to school. There are limits to the program, but I could take one or two classes a year at their expense. I went to the college and checked on course availability, but I received a bit of bad news: It seems I never finished English 101. How odd ... I just went right by it. I'd forgotten all about that. Hmmm ... Now I'm having nightmares of my inability to tell a dangling participle from a hole in the ground. And I have an even bigger fear than failure ... what if taking English makes me hate writing again? Is it really worth the risk this late in life?
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