A Financial Update

August 25: "A correction was sent to CPS on your behalf. Check back."
"Free Application for Federal Student Aid Waiting for correction."

I did check back, and you told me just to wait it out.

August 30: "A correction was sent to CPS on your behalf. Check back."

And I thought, 'Well, at least the FAFSA has finished processing.'

August 31: "A correction was sent to CPS on your behalf. Check back."
"Free Application for Federal Student Aid Waiting for correction 04."


Eff my liiiiiiife.

We've un-progressed. We've regressed.

I might never get my money.

They're going to give it away to some awful person whose parents cut them off because they've been going to school for twelve years now and have accomplished nothing.

They're going to run out of money and the $2,750 I was expecting is going to be $65.38.

I'm going to end up living in a cardboard box on the road behind the GT.

I'm going to eat worms and bird eggs and flies. I'm going to make my clothes out of leaves and grass and pine needles. I'll make friends with rabbits and bears so they can cuddle with me and keep me warm at night. I'll sell my soul to the Theatre department to pay for tuition. I'll sneak up behind people who are studying in the library, render them unconscious with the forest ninja skills I'll learn from the bears and the rabbits, use their book for my home work, and then put it back so when they wake up it'll be like some awesome yet terrible dream that may or may never have happened. They'll write articles about me in the UVU newspaper. Three years from now, I'll be a Lifetime Original Movie. Tourists will flock to the road behind to GT to get a glimpse of me, to take their picture with BearRabbitSoullessTheatreGirl (which will be the title of the film). And after all of that, I'll still be paisley soup bowl-free. Because my loan money will never come.

I am destined to die, feeble and despondent, in the arms of my best bear friend, having never found true love because people will be repulsed by my stench.







These might all be legitimate concerns.




Homeless at Library Square - Salt Lake City, originally uploaded by inneri.

Watch for me.

Unfulfilling Sunday Nights

I was going to write something interesting and insightful and it was going to reveal all kinds of things about my soul and the kind of day that I had.

But there's a cantaloupe quarter waiting for me, and the 10 o'clock news is about to come on.

That should give me time to sort out how I feel, shouldn't it.

Any Day Now, Loan Fairy

The problem with window shopping is that one often falls in love with something one cannot afford.

Tonight, in a fit of I'll-kill-you-if-you-open-your-mouth-again-type rage, Lou and I escaped to a shopping complex in American Fork hoping to find dishes worthy to be placed in the cupboard of our soon-to-be apartment. After a thorough yet fruitless search of Ross, we wound up at Bed Bath & Beyond, where my hapless heart set its pretty little hopes on these:
Paisley soup bowls! How perfect are they? Not too patterned, not too plain, big enough that they could potentially aide me in drowning my sorrows in ice cream or Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and off beat enough for them to speak to me. Maybe I loved them so much because I wasn't expecting to find them. Maybe the cosmos aligned and led me straight to the dinnerware of my dreams.

"Alack, that heaven should practice stratagem upon so soft a subject as myself!"

Wouldn' you know it, these bowls, since they cost any money at all, are way out of my price range.

...

Poop.
And I had the whole kitchen designed around them!

Harrumph.