Gettin my Learn On, To the Max, Yo

June 01, 2006 - 9:48 p.m.

I have this lie that I tell. To cover my most ashamed secret. I have this one dark thing inside of me. One unresolved thing that just eats away at me. Really, one thing. That’s not so bad, is it? Most people have a few things, right? But if I died tomorrow I would only have one regret, and as the life slipped away from me as I lay on the side of the road, amongst the shattered glass and twisted metal, I would be thinking one thing.

“Goddamn…

I never graduated from college.”

I know, I know, some of you are rolling your eyes, like: “Are you kidding me? That’s nothing compared to the time that I molested that retarded girl with a stem from a pricker bush.”

Yeah, for sure, but this is my thing. The humiliation it has caused me, the heartbreak. Having to admit to everyone that I never finished. It was so important to me, and I made so many grand proclamations, so many promises to myself and the world that I would do it. That I would be the first person in my family to get a bachelor’s degree. I mean, they’re no dummies, and each of them has SOME post-secondary education. But no one actually DID IT. Got the paper in hand. And I actually believed that I would do it. And at the time, I tried my hardest and did the best that I was capable of…at the time.

I was in school for a long time…six or seven years. Sob story short, I ran out of cash, like really ran out. Like no food, no train fare, living off of friends, no rent money and DEFINITELY no money for tuition or books. I lived like that for over a year until the piggy bank just broke, nothing left but vapors, couldn’t afford my $675 rent, which was like a FORTUNE at the time, lost my crib, had to leave Chicago, move back in with the parents (I want to commit suicide just thinking about it) and start a new period of my life called L-O-S-E-R. And no, I could not take out any loans because [PLEASE DO NOT GET ME STARTED] I was raised to have no debt, take out no loans, owe nobody nothing, and if ya can’t buy it in cash, then ya can’t have it!

I have since given that good ol’ golden rule the *SIT-N-SPIN*.

So, I went to work, got a job, got fat, got skinny, moved back to Chicago, got a “real” job, and here I’ve been, ho’in it up for the last 4 years. I never went back to UIC, it was like a lost lover, too painful, my heart was broken. I thought that if I even stepped foot on the campus I might throw up at the reminder of my FAILURE.

But I started lying, and telling people that I did graduate. This all began because I felt forced to put this lie on my resume, because after 9-11 I couldn’t find a job anywhere, no one was hiring, and I needed that foot up. And when you start one lie you kind of have to carry it out because what happens if one of your co-workers gets in the same room as someone you told the truth to and they FIND OUT? You lose your job, fool. And you go back to mama’s crib and pray for death.

So it became the “truth” to me, pathetic loser. And the only people who knew the real truth were family and close friends, for one reason only, because duh, they never got invited to a graduation party. Can’t exactly pull the wool over them, huh?

Here’s the lamest part: I needed 130 credits to graduate and I had 120. I finished my senior thesis for my major and my minor, and all I had left were some bullshit stragglers, like 3 credits of science and other gen ed bullshit. Couldn’t somebody, some SCHMUCK float me through those last 10? Guess not.

So I played make believe, and I started internet dating and on my profile I listed “bachelor’s degree” as my level of education. Because, I rationalized, those gen ed classes don’t really COUNT, and I HAD done my major work, and besides, I deserved more than the next option down: “Some College”. I had a lot more than SOME college, and shit, why do I want to go through a lengthy explanation to every guy, “Well, ya see…I ALMOST have a bachelor’s, and here’s the reason why…” and then go into the long embarrassing story of parents and fat? Ahhhh no.

So every guy that I dated thought that I had a BFA. But TO MY *reaching* CREDIT, I never spoke the lie aloud, it was only ever WRITTEN in resumes and dating profiles. In real life, I made with the vagaries: “I went to school at UIC.” “I studied Photography and Women’s Studies.” “After school I started working in graphic design.” ALL. TRUE.

Let’s face it…anyone who knows me well…knows that IF I had a mub-fukkin bachelor’s degree, you kin BET that bitch would be right hung above my front door, gold-leaf framed, neon arrows pointing right at it, my name SHAWNA MOONEY triple circled with a yellow highlighter pen! They don’t come no prouder, prouder than a pig in shit, six days from Sunday, sheeeit!

So anyway, I carried the guilt of this lie with me wherever I went. Still carry it. So full of shame, really, I hang my head. I think there are one or two ex-boyfriends who still believe to this day that I have a BFA. I don’t remember confessing the truth to them…so let’s assume there was no confessing. How pathetic is that? Can’t even tell a boyfriend. Those poor guys, goin’ on livin’, thinking I’m smart n shit. Like step number 8 in AA, maybe I should call and make right with them.

Nahhhh. Too embarrassing.

But I did tell my current boyfriend, the pilot, when we were dating just a couple months. I was like, “Oh yeah, I lied about one thing, just ONE THING…” and then I went into the whole story and he was relieved that I hadn’t said, “My little sister Tanya is actually the baby I had when I was twelve and my parent’s raised her as their own but now I want her to come live with me and PS her father just got out of jail and he wants joint custody.” He was all supportive and huggy-kissy and said that he didn’t care, and who gives a shit about a piece of paper anyway. That gave me great relief, that he was cool with it, but more so that I was able to confess my lie.

So this brings me to the present, being all old and grey and shit, thinking maybe it’s time to get back to school, because dayum, that piece of paper is mucho importante to ME. So with hardly any money to speak of, I’ve gone and reapplied, been accepted and registered at UIC, thinking that maybe a wing and a prayer may be enough to pay my tuition. My financial aid reward was: ZERO and I need $2k by the end of the week, you got it? Still gotta work full time, to support my habitz, chuno. Going to school part time for the next 18 years til I GET IT.

Oh, do I even need to ‘splain? Thaw-chu-knew – The day I was born, Murphy’s Law was written, signed, sealed, delivered right into my bassinet where it followed me home from the hospital and has been stuck in my appendix along with some chewed-off toenails ever since.

I went to my academic advisor and asked her what classes I should take and she pulls out 12 pages of shit and informs me that the entire curriculum has changed since I was there and I no longer need 10 credits to obtain my degree, now I need like 40 credits, 11 classes (stop yanking my dick Veronica!) including a painful 6-credit art class that literally meets like 18 hours a week or some shit and [I hate] Color Theory and it will take me *long-time* to finish all this shit. God, art classes! I thought I was through with that shit, kill me! Now I gotta go back to THAT WORLD and hang with all the cynics with their sneers, and the advisor didn’t say this but no doubt they’ll make me do another senior thesis project, cuz like, my last one wasn’t CONDESCENDING enough or sumthin.

But enough of all that, are you hearing impaired?

I SAID:

Oh. Mah. God.

I am Like. A COLLEGE STUDENT DUDE!

*gun shots*

!!

I started my first class today: Sociology – Race and Ethnic Relations, cuz you know how I love me some nig talk! Yee-hahhh, I pee myself!

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