July 27, 2026
I got my grade back today for my final demo class of the summer semester. It was 85/100, which honestly isn’t too bad, but I was told that I’m still failing at a skill they critiqued me on from the very beginning. I responded by telling them that as much as I would like to practice the skill, I’ve clearly been doing it wrong, and to continue to practice on my own would equate lunacy. I believe my professor agreed since she said I could pause working on the skill until we’re back together for class in the fall.
Being back in school is exhausting. Honestly. Of course, I want the degree. Who doesn’t want that shiny diploma and the pay bump that would likely come with it? Who doesn’t want to feel that sense of accomplishment?
I do.
Don’t get me wrong. I just envisioned a journey that involved skipping down a yellow brick road. I didn’t envision feeling so down on myself for not being outstanding from day 1.
Outside of school, I have a lot going on and a lot less money to get things done because of school! It’s a catch-22. I finally made some good money serving this weekend, but I didn’t have time to write or play tennis, and my body feels like it has been pelted by a basket of dodgeballs.
My mind is in even worse shape.
Many of my tables were wild, as the general public usually is, but one woman rubbed me the wrong way more than others. She seemed so bitter. We were insanely busy all day from an event in town, and she had no patience from the very first second. She probably waited a long time to get to the table, but I can’t control that, and I didn’t force her to eat there.
I got her beer tastings, made sure her appetizer came out within minutes, and did my best to take her order as soon as I could. I forgot her kids’ drinks but ran to get them as soon as she reminded me. This is a common mistake, but her energy was downright unpleasant. Nothing I did was good enough, and she had plenty of demands, just like everyone else in the restaurant.
Truth be told, she probably needs her husband to take her out of that funk. It reminded me of that episode of American Dad when Francine haunts the house because Stan isn’t hitting it right. I definitely got that version of the mom, and fuck dad, do better!
I don’t hate them, though. They’re just like the rest of us, lost and confused on this little rock floating through the Milky Way. Life constantly shifting like tectonic plates.
Many changes are happening to me all at once, and I’m not sure how to feel.
I want to be strong, but part of me wants to run to the past, even though turning back is the absolute worst way to go. If life has taught me anything, it’s that there’s power in overcoming the discomfort. When we prove to ourselves that we can complete what we envisioned, it gives us the strength to build on our pasts to make a better future, but we must be brave.
After catching my breath, I reached out to my professor to ask for extra study materials. Not because I’m dying to study, trust me I don’t, but because I would rather figure out how to better myself than to fail or give up. It’s how I feel when I play tennis too. Winning matches requires grit, and my master’s program is no different.
My advice to the cranky, haunted mom would be this:
Your life and your energy won’t get brighter until you power through the discomfort and take charge of it, no matter what that obstacle might be.
