Oh...shit...

I hate it when that happens. That feeling. When you realize the rubber is really going to hit the road. That you're almost there. And the landing gear just lost a couple of bolts, and nuts, and maybe even some other unidentifiable metal things.

Scary enough to write about it in incomplete sentences.

To me, anyway. Scary, that is.

I'm about to leave a job I have done since 1989. I've worked for the same company in the same cluster of departments since 1989. Granted I probably have had eight different job titles since I've been here, but it was basically switching seats in the same car. Backseat, frontseat, Britney-backward-installed carseat...still a Chevy, no matter where you sit (As an aside, I am appalled she is a MINI Cooper owner. She has peed in our gene pool.)

Back to gnashing my teeth because teeth are meant to be gnashed...Did I say I have been here since 1989? That's...shit...a long time. Maybe I'm just gnoshing on gnashing here...

But now I'm looking at my last year in graduate school, which will entail a heavier intern schedule, plus a full class load; plus a part-time job. I thought it was going to be a fairly planned-out kind of thing, except today I found out my current department can't keep me on a part-time basis. They can only work with me as a freelancer, which means sans benefits--which is why I needed to work part-time during the last year anyway.

So, I have to regroup and get squared away with another plan by August. I will have to find another benefits-bearing part-time job flexible enough to allow me to intern.

Oh. That. Will. Be. So. Easy.

(I get so sick of being a prisoner of benefits programs.)