If It Ain’t One Thesis... It’s Another

Not exactly, but it sounds pretty catchy.

Fact is, just as Preachy has finished his thesis (more or less), I have come smack up against the wall of the National Massage Therapy Certification Test.

This is big stuff. On a par with the ABA Bar Exam or Board Certifications in Medical Specialties. In other words... whole lotta studying goin’ on here. And, no, it really isn’t fun. I don’t seem to be as smart as I used to be. <sigh>

This is probably the biggest sit-down, shut-up and do-it test I have ever taken in my life. Defending various theses was a snap, it seems. Not to mention a very looooong time ago. It has taken me three years (including time off to enter into the rather dubious wonders of marriage in middle-age) to get here. The only way out is through this test.

I have a little over three weeks to prepare. Sounds like plenty of time, even to me. I can already see the distractions piling up. Trips to visit relatives, Geezer Nights, the Lenten agony of "The Passion" discussed to death , literally and figuratively in the comfort of my own home. (I’m really not sure I want to let that kind of energy into my house but...)

Excuses, excuses. I just don’t feel like I’ll be around too much in the short term future. I’m not around that much anyway. I often feel the tug of this ethereal place, but don’t seem to have much to offer. With the exception of commenting about the agonies of intense study, I’m not feeling too inspired. Things are moving around, but it could just be gas.