I was going to put Plato on the back burner and dig into archaeology, but a dark flash provoked by work obligations and a need to have a life (such as it might be) leads me to question this decision.
I found I was not enjoying archaeology. The instructor seemed very sharp and perky, and the book was well-organized – definitely lots to love there. But as I read my archaeology task my mind would wander back to my Plato, or I’d find myself wishing to browse through some lovely English histories my friends gave me for Christmas, or I would begin to daydream about how I might enforce development standards in a constructive manner.
And so I made a difficult decision, and dropped the course.
All day long the Grease song ‘Beauty School Dropout’ has been on my mind.