It’s strange how simultaneously frustrating and comforting it feels when you’re quite sure you’ve had the final straw.
Katie, darling, let me try to piece together all of the threads in this shit blanket that is today
Per usual, it’s cold and gloomy and miserable outside. I made the mistake of wearing a dress and what must surely be the thinnest tights I own, because I feel sort of pretty in them, and I’m still pretty convinced that I’ll get more shit done if I force myself to get the Hell out of my yoga pants in the morning.
Per usual, the parking on campus was atrocious. When faced with the decision to park at the library and trek all the way to Self Hall within ten minutes or say fuck it and and park in “Ladiga Trail Parking Only,” I chose the latter, because that’s what any sane adult with shit to do chooses, am I right?
Self Hall is perfectly warm and cozy, on one positive note. Going to class puts me in a rather meditative state these days, despite the sub-par education I’m receiving. It’s pleasant to sit and listen and daydream for a while in contrast to how hurried everything can be outside the classroom.
It was my only class today, this public relations course. I’m not terribly keen on PR due to being a generally neurotic little person who has a deal of trouble relating with the general public, but the professor’s a nice guy. So here I am, all warm and cozy, when he calls me out by name at the beginning of class. First, middle, last name and all. That’s how you know you’re in deep shit.
As it turned out, he’d just received an email this morning informing him that he needs to dismiss me from his class, effective January 15, 2015 to [no end date posted]. What in the ever loving fuck? He was kind enough to let me stay for class anyway, and even kinder to overlook me whipping my phone out to frantically check my email. The only email about the issue was dated from this morning, January 15th. “Due to a balance on your account, your registration has been dropped.” Ouch. No warning prior to it. You’d think someone would have the courtesy to be like “yo, you’ve already forked out a lot of nonrefundable dough for this ish right hurr and you got a little left, boo. Just sayin’.”
I can’t say I remember anything about class beyond worrying. When the hour and a half was up, I was still so upset and so ready to just get shit done. What could I have possibly overlooked? Why can I not seem to get my shit together?
It was sleeting when I got outside, of course, so I patted myself on the back for my good call about parking. Then lo and behold, as I neared my car, something that wasn’t there before looming at me.
Whip out my phone again and call UPD. I explain that I don’t have any fees for tickets due, which they confirm, and that they couldn’t really prove that I wasn’t using the Ladiga Trail anyway. To which I’m told I’ll have to go directly to the Police Department if I want any chance at a case of getting the fee for the boot dropped. Nothing I had to say seemed to make it clear enough that getting there was difficult with a fucking boot on my car, please come take the fucking boot off my car.
So I waited at the nearest campus bus stop for a ride to the PD. And waited. 10 minutes. Still sleeting. 15 minutes. Still sleeting. 20 minutes. Decided it was past the time to start walking. Finally get to the police department. Make a huge ass of myself, but they take the boot off and tell me I might have a good case against the boot fee. Great, now it’s time to get shit done.
Finally get to the financial aid office and I’m already so frustrated that I’m crying. Just little streams of tears and rage that I can’t control because I’m livid, my clothes are soaked, and freezing. As it seems (and I must note here, when it’s this person’s job to relay information to me and help sort things out, it’s crucial to “know” and not just guess that it “seems”), I had an unpaid student fee in the range of fifty to seventy-five dollars, roughly. Thus, because of this itsy bitsy fee and misunderstanding, all of my classes were dropped. I can be reinstated, but the estimated cost of fees for what has transpired today alone is around $700.
Needless to say, I think I’ve finally had enough shit this time.