I had to take the day off from work yesterday and do a bunch of driving around, from one school to the other, because MCCC told me the week prior they had lost my goddamn transcripts
. The ones I hand-delivered back in March, remember those? Yeah. Lost them. Poof!
So, I hie my ass hither and yon to get new transcripts, then drive up to the school. Upon plunking my ass down in the financial aid office with the woman who told me to calm down, miss
on the phone, I find out that now the system is showing they have them.
What the actual fuck?
This is just not cool, but all I can do is laugh. It's either laugh or start screaming hysterically. I am wound tightly as of lately. If one would take their finger and flick my arm, I would most likely ting!
like fine crystal.
It's so frustrating, all of this. Half the time, I'm not even sure what the point of all of this is. Is it avoiding a fate like my mother's? Working a dead and menial job for the rest of my life until I find myself in an early grave? Or am I just chasing some stupid ideal pounding into my head since my head was able to be pounded into? This stupid dream.
At any rate, I am now at least registered for four classes (remember that part about me being part time for the time being? Not happening, apparently), with three online and one in person. I can only take one funeral services class because I still need a final anatomy and physiology course, but there's nothing available for me this semester, so I'm taking a bunch of doofy electives online to pass the time and keep the loan servicing agents off my neck. Abnormal psych, Moral Choices, and Women in Literature. And so it goes.
A bright and shining spot in the day, or at least one I am attempting to cling to in a fake-it-till-you-make-it sort of way is that I finally received my diploma. I stood out in the parking lot with the sun beating down on my head with the Engineer's fifteen-year old cousin standing next to me (she's visiting from California and I stole her away for the day to keep me company). I opened the thick navy blue folder the diploma had been placed in and read the words granting me a degree.
It's so fucking weird. And I kept saying so. Shelby, the cousin, asked what was so strange about it. I told her how I'm the first person in my family to receive a degree, the first to have even graduated high school
, let alone college. But, now I've got this fancy piece of very expensive paper to broadcast that accomplishment. I want nothing more than to show it to my mother, because she's the only one of my blood who would really give a damn that it even happened.
My father thinks it's great that I'm going to school, but it's in this kind of meandering and vague way. He doesn't understand why I need a degree to do what I want to do and thinks it's kind of ridiculous. Middle Brother just gets kind of quiet when I talk about it and has, once or twice, accused me of being a braggert when I talked about my grades.
My mother would have taken my hands in her own and kissed my face, over and over. She always loved it when I did things she was never able to do and even though I never heard much in the way of I'm proud of you
, I could at least feel it coming off of her in waves.
I'd like to feel that at least once in a while from the remaining family. I recognize it's just me beating myself against that brick wall again, but the desire remains.