Stomping my feet

For the first time in my life I understand why people quit college with only 3 or 6 credit hours needed to graduate. I have a class that started off on a path to somewhere that didn't seem to go with the course topic, and now suddenly I'm thrown into the middle of the lake and I'm supposed to know how to swim. The professor said in the instructions for this and next week's assignment - don't panic. Well, if you can't swim and you find yourself in the middle of the lake, you kinda panic. If I had known how technical librarianship, in particular archival, was going to be, I believe I would have chosen something else. But what? What isn't technical these days? I wanted an MFA in Creative Writing, but what are you going to do with that, other than become a high school English teacher or an adjunct professor teaching freshmen English to college students who'd rather be somewhere else than in your classroom? I miss being creative. I miss the way my life used to be quiet, unglued, and a nice sort of an adventure. Lately my sister-in-law has been posting photos of my siblings, parents and me from long, long ago on Facebook. I can't believe I was ever that young. I could swim back then. . . .