Like I didn’t already have enough to worry about, THIS might end my long suffering college career 72 days early.

This is the new deal:

So, I wake up this morning and there’s an URGENT notice in my email from Stickittoyou financial aid.  I got a notice on Tuesday that there were updates to my FAFSA, but I was too busy to think much of it yet.  So I skimmed this morning’s Stickittoyou notice and, lo and behold: someone, and I don’t know who yet, but my money is on the Stickittoyou computer platform update, the same one that couldn’t calculate my financial aid package until the Saturday before summer class started, allowed me to over borrow by $500.

I am in my 5th year, so I knew I was getting close to maxing my federal loan money.  However, I generally keep in close communication with the financial aid office, and I as I did have a considerable amount of grants and loans this year, I thought we figured I’d be okay.  When my fall financial aid packet came through, I was offered $1961.00 in loans.  I suppose ultimately it’s my fault for accepting what they offer, but, silly me, I expect that when I’m offered something I should actually be eligible for it, so I took the max of what they offered, and they paid it to me two weeks ago.  Doesn’t seem like a lot, but apparently it is $500 too much.

But as that maximum offer was wrong I’ve now been paid money that I technically wasn’t allowed to have and they have frozen my entire financial aid account, not just my loans.  Furthermore, it kind of sounds like that is including my workstudy job money, as my job is funded by federal financial aid workstudy dollars.  It seems as though I have to go to the financial aid office this morning and find out whether or not I can still get paid at my job until I pay back that $500.

The simple solution would be to give back the extra $500, but if I do then that creates the problem of how will I pay my January 1 rent, as all the remaining money that didn’t go to books, other school supplies, keeping my car running and paying a few summer bills is earmarked for rent for this semester.  But at least I guess that will push the problem down the road a bit.

Even if I find one way or another to pay back that money, as I’ve apparently maxed out my undergraduate borrowing dollars it still doesn’t solve the problem of how I will pay the extra expenses that aren’t covered by my scholarships and grants for my last semester, but once again I guess I will just have to kick that problem down the road apiece.

Well, I guess it’s time to merrily schlepp my butt on down to Stickittoyou U for another exhilarating day of learning.

And so it goes

You would think I would have learned.  I guess I’m dumber and more gullible than I thought.

I always think, next semester will be better.  I will be done with *insert miserable course I didn’t want to take* and I will be able to focus on what I want.  I will be more organized.  I will devote more time to studying.  I will find time to be good to myself so I have the mental/physical/intellectual fortitude to kick ass.  I will get straight As because I love the material and really learned everything.

It is only the second week.  So I am trying really hard not to succumb to crippling depression.

But, I tell you what.  I spent 8 hours on Saturday, 9 and half hours Sunday and blew off work yesterday so I could come home straight after class and spend 5 hours on homework in the afternoon.  It would take like another 30-40 hours just to catch up the amount of homework I’m all ready behind on from last week, the first week of the semester, and I haven’t even included the this new week’s homework on my list yet.

I think the only thing keeping me from that crippling depression I mentioned is the anger I feel at paying outrageous amounts of money to take classes that I have no hope of learning half of the material covered because there is so much homework I can’t possibly do it all if I do it well.  The best I can hope for is to maybe learn that half, accept I will be worked to within an inch of my life to complete that half of what I should learn and have the honor of getting shitty grades in the process.

And, you know it stung pretty bad getting C’s in physics, but I didn’t ever profess to be good at math which was 75% of physics.  The prospect of getting C’s, or heaven forbid, worse, in courses I actually want to take is a devastating thought.

So what about getting shitty grades bothers me?  The letter C doesn’t show how much I invest in effort and time, how much I sacrifice of myself and my life and the desire there was in me to really learn and succeed.  People see anything less than a B and they think that person is either dumb or not trying.

The fact that I really do find all the courses I’m taking this semester interesting, and I really, really want to learn but might not be able to get all I want out of a class is almost a worse feeling than just getting a bad grade.  I want to enjoy studying this stuff.  I want to take the time to read or do an assignment and when I’m done feel all like “Wow, that was cool.  I rocked that.”  But there’s just so much.  Being buried in a never ending mountain of homework kills any joy one might have for a subject and the learning process.

Mostly it’s like, “Damn,  I have to hurry and finish this which is due first and then I have to make sure I have time to start this which is due later but will take for ever, and oh, yeah, I have to memorize this all this stuff so I am ready for the test where I can’t use the cheat sheet.  Oh, and then there’s the…”  It’s hard to keep focused when you can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.  It’s hard to stay strong when you are tired but know there’s almost no point in going on because you can never truly reach the end.  It’s hopelessness.

I don’t know how other students manage, maybe it’s because, even though I am way far from being old, I’m not as young, healthy and fast as I used to be.  I know– I hope– I’m not too stupid to learn it.  A significant amount of the crippling depression hovering over me is due to feeling sad and frustrated about all the details and readings and assignments I am rushing through and half assing because I only have about 8 hours a day where my brain is actually capable of functioning.  It’s frustrating to feel like you are not on your game.  To feel you brain and your body are traitors to your desires and your needs.  I want to do more.  But it’s like a switch goes off after 8 hours or so and no matter how I try to apply myself to the work at hand nothing sticks.

It’s also frustrating because I know the real world is nothing like college.  I *know* I would make an excellent scientist/researcher.  I know I have the skills.  Because one sucks at jumping through a professor’s arbitrary hoops does not mean one sucks at being a good employee in the real world.  Unfortunately, there’s this dumb bit of having to get through college in order to get your resume on the desk instead of in the trash.

Well, one thing won’t help.  Whining about it here on the blog.  So, unless the storm of homework breaks, you won’t probably hear much from me for the next 14 weeks.  I have to make time and unfortunately, blogging is not absolutely necessary.  Other things that aren’t apparently considered necessary by professors are breathing, sleeping, and thinking about anything not related to their class.

I will miss you bloggy buddies.  Pray for me.  Or send cash.  I may have to quit both my jobs if I want to have any chance in Hell of passing this semester.

And you make the big bucks?

We all know the professorial realm of academia is full of hacks.  We all know that students ultimately pay the price for their professor’s laziness/ineptness.  Every semester I have at least one textbook example (no impending pun intended).

So, my Virology class meets the first time today at 11 am.  Yesterday the professor sends us an email that says, essentially, you will need this virology textbook (included a link to Amazon).  And, by the way, you can’t get it at the campus bookstore even if you want to pay the outrageous prices they charge, so you will have to find a copy online, either at this link or elsewhere.

Now, riddle me this:  How is it that my biochem teacher could notify her students back in JUNE to say this is the textbook, it is expensive if you buy it from the campus bookstore, if you want to shop around and order it from a cheaper online bookstore do it early so it can be shipped to you before class starts, why can’t my virology teacher have his act together earlier than the day before class starts?

Not off to an inspiring start, if you ask me.

Umm…

I down loaded photos from my phone.  I have no idea what I was taking a photo of here:

I *think* it might be a thorn.  Guess I need to start putting notes in my phone about what I’m taking photos of….

That’s my Spud!

This weekend we took off on account of Leif’s birthday (Happy Birthday Leif!!!) and illness to simply sleep in and be slugs.

Part of the weekend included playing Monopoly.  It’s one of a few board games everyone can participate in and enjoy.  The Spud hasn’t quite figured out the “point” or developed an understanding of money, so she mostly just enjoys landing on Chance and either being sent to jail or avoiding it depending on her mood.

At some point she became concerned that she didn’t have a Get Out of Jail Free card.  Leif however, had one and offered to sell it to her for $100 (if you don’t regularly play Monopoly, you can always pay to get out of jail for $50).  I laughed thinking it was a good joke, but the spud quickly agreed and handed over a hundred dollar bill.  Leif looked at me, I looked at him.  We both looked at the spud.

“Whaaat?”  She squealed.  “I need a Get Out of Jail Free card!”

So, I shrugged and the transaction was completed.

As it would happen, later on Leif and the spud found themselves in a similar situation.  He had a Get Out of Jail Free card, and she wanted one.  So again, he offered to sell it to her for $100 dollars.

This second time I said, “Spud, you realize don’t you, that you can always pay to get out of jail for $50.  Uncle Leif is charging you $100, that’s more than it costs to simply pay to get out of jail.”

“Mommmmaaaa!”  Squealed the Spud, “But I need a Get Out of Jail Free card.”

And I sat and watched her pay $100 again for something that in theory should have been worth less than $50 and was both shockingly amused and horrified.

Can you find the problem with this picture?

There is no such thing as cardoman.  I looked it up on Google.  I suspect they mean cardamom.  Which is actually what comes up on Google if you google ‘what is cardoman?’  The brain trust at Google apparently knows that the Genpop will spell the name of this spice wrong.  How do they know?  I can’t say, but I guess stupidity is predictable.

I’m trying really hard to comprehend this mistake.  In some regions this particular spice is not very common or well known, I guess, but still, it’s not even supposed to be pronounced cardo-man.  It is pronounced like carda-mom or carde-mum.

*Sigh*

I didn’t studder

I am having a very bad week.  I am feeling quite frustrated, overwhelmed, exhausted, and as though everything I come in contact with gives me a paper cut and then a salt bath.  To make matters worse I developed a raging cold/flu.

On top of my general yuckitude then, my cold/flu has gifted me with it’s own brand of joy.  I ache, I burn, I am even more exhausted, I feel like I’m wearing sandpaper, swallowing Brillo pads, I can barely keep my eyes open but I can’t sleep, and am freaking hot.  But I got up and went to work.  Even though I wanted to go home, I met with my research adviser after work even though I told him I was feeling quite poorly and preferred not to meet, he wanted to anyway.  I hope he gets my cold.

Everyone I saw today says, “Oh, Janie, you don’t look good.”

To which I reply, “The universe hates me, I don’t feel good at all, I’m having a bad week and a wretched cold.”

And if one more person says in response, “Maybe it’s allergies.”  I swear to all the deities ever worshiped I will sneeze in their face and let the mucous freely flowing from my nose drip directly into their face as I scream “It’s not F*&king Allergies!”

And then I just want to lie like a beached whale in front of a fan in a spaghetti strap undershirt and my underwear but the lovely landlord picked this week to come and put a new roof on the house and brought his son and a family friend to stay in the basement while they work. Because its so hot, if I close the door I lose any hope of a cross breeze, so I stay mostly clothed and lie quietly with the lights out.

It absolutely amazes me how you can be lying half asleep in your room after telling people you are sick and don’t feel good and they still seem to think nothing of trying to engage you in conversation.

WHAT PART OF I DON’T FEEL GOOD, I AM TIRED AND WANT TO REST DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND?!?  I AM SICK.  EITHER MAKE ME SOME DAMNED TEA OR LEAVE ME THE F*&K ALONE!

I would type some of the internal monologue of obscenities I would like to scream if my throat didn’t burn so bad, but the mucous is dripping on to the keyboard, and that’s too gross and I’m too tired to keep cleaning it up.

Good night. Maybe I’ll feel better and less cranky tomorrow. Or maybe I’ll call in sick.