Fish, or Cut Bait.

I did something very scary today. But first ...

Maybe it's because I'm now thirty-five, and all I can see is 40, and high school is half-a-lifetime ago now and I don't seem to have loads of accomplishments since then, and my mom-in-law has passed away, bringing home the whole mortality thing, but (deep breath), as a classic over-achiever, I AM HAVING MY MID-LIFE CRISIS NOW.

Not that a little angst will get me. I thrive on angst. It used to be my favourite food group. Maybe it still is. Because besides feeling restless and the usual dissatisfaction with life that comes along with this mid-life crisis thing, I'm actually being quite productive.

Take, for example, the driver's licence. I know I'm a bit outnumbered on this one, being designated cargo at my age. But I decided to do it, and (thus far) I'm doing it. Big scary hurdle coming into view and I'm preparing to leap it. So there.

This, naturally, brings us to what my title references, and the aforementioned "scary thing" I did today.

When it comes to my professional life, I am hopelessly stalled. I have been in a holding pattern for five years now, and the time has come to "fish, or cut bait". And so today I began the process of an academic appeal. This is very scary for me, because of the reason I put it off: if I fail, then that's it. I'm done. No more trying to become a full-time teacher for me. Dream over. Sheet over face. Gimme a toe tag. But I can't drift forever, and, as the advisor said, it can't hurt to try. And so, I am.

Those of you out there who know the whole story, I can hear you cheering from here. Those of you who don't, well, you'll have to wait for the whole story. By the sounds of the "goth metal opera" coming up the street, my husband's arrival is imminent, and I think it's only fair that I tell him first.

Besides, I think he's bringing me Diet Pepsi.