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01 - Introduction
02 – Your first love
03 – Your parents (this is long as HELL
04 - What you ate today
05 - Your definition of love
06 - Your day
07 - Your best friend
08 - A moment
09 - Your beliefs (photo insensive)
10 - What you wore today
11 - Your siblings
12 - What's in your bag?
This week )

14 – What you wore today
15 – Your dreams
16 – Your first kiss
17 – Your favorite memory
18 – Your favorite birthday
19 – Something you regret
20 – This month
21 – Another moment
22 – Something that upsets you
23 – Something that makes you feel better
24 – Something that makes you cry
25 – A first
26 – Your fears
27 – Your favorite place
28 – Something that you miss
29 – Your aspirations
30 – One last moment
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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.

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Gods and fucking monsters, today was a huge waste of a day off.

Drove up to the school with the Engineer, when all of this does actually happen, that drive is going to be annoying. The campus seems to be quite nice, notwithstanding its lack of SIGNS on BUILDINGS, but it's not at all like I was thinking it was going to be.

I began the application/transfer process and then fell into a meeting with the head of the department, accidentally. During this brief meeting, I found out two things:

1. I own, and have read more than once, most of the books he had behind his desk. hah.

2. I am missing two classes to get into the program.

Godspit. Chemistry for Society most likely won't qualify for a chemistry prerequisite and my A&P I and Human Biology don't qualify for two years of A&P. This is despite the fact that the Mercer webpage states that the need for A&P I and II can be met with Human Anatomy I, which is the same goddamn class as CCC's Human Biology, which I took.

It wasn't all doom and thunder, however. If I need these classes, I can try to take them over the summer (I think I'm already much too late for Spring) and I won't be hurt by this end-of-March deadline, as it apparently is only a stated means to get students to turn their shit in in a timely fashion. Means nothing.

I was also worried that if I missed the Autumn enrollment, I'd have to wait until Autumn 2011, because the website said part time classes only start in September, as opposed to spring and autumn. But, the department head told me that wasn't true.

After all of this, I came home and passed out on the couch until 10 o'clock this evening. I'm sure I needed it, but it totally wasted my night. Now I'm wide awake at three in the morning, which is rather irritating because I had wanted to get up early and go to the farmer's market for olives, and the market CLOSES at noon.

In never-ending cat news: Tinker has taken up hiding under the china cabinet and not coming out except to eat minuscule amounts of food and to pee. The peeing, thankfully, is happening where it should. Small favors, I reckon. I feel horrible because every time I pet him, it seems like it's followed up with shoving pills down his throat. I keep trying to give him attention when it's not medication time, but he appears to want no parts of me.

Baby is being Baby and seems to be largely unaffected by what's going on with his health. He wobbles like a sailor on leave, but he's been doing that for so many years that's not a surprise or a concern. He's old, what am I to expect? He's not eating as much as I would like, but he's still taking in a good amount. And he's been climbing into the bed with us again lately. I am suspecting that all of this just gives credence to our theory that Baby is somehow ingesting the life energy of those around him and will live forever, purely on souls.

If this were a film, it would close with me and the Engineer dying by way of slow soul sucking. Our corpses would be found dessicated and withered by maintenance, and as the screen goes black- you hear a tiny meow and then a voiceover saying, "Oh, this poor little kitten! We must take him home to live with our family immediately!"

dun dun dun.
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I'm taking the day off tomorrow, which is amazing in and of itself. I never take days off from work. My attendance used to be quite bad, but it's like a switch went off in my head one day and suddenly I'm all Little Miss Responsible Adult. Sucks to your ass-mar, this is bollocks.

At any rate, I've got a day off tomorrow. I've a notion to get my ass to the West Windsor campus of Mercer so I can get my goddamn transfer business sorted, in an effort to actually start funeral school this autumn.

The deadline is the end of the month and in true Tara-style, I put this shit off as long as I possibly could because that is just how I roll lately. Despite this looming over my brow, I'm finding it difficult to muster up enough energy to care. At dinner tonight with the Engineer, I said to him: "I really just don't give a fuck anymore." It surprised him. Hell, it surprised me.

But it also gave me an inkling of just how bad this lovely little depression I've mired myself in has gotten. Beyond my ongoing and not-getting-any-better cat drama, it's almost as if all of the wee stupid annoyances one comes across in daily life have formed themselves into some kind of gigantic Voltron of stupid. I'm tired of it.

The other day, I had driven to Starbucks to get an iced chai (my boss forced me to go treat myself). On the way back to the office, I opened my sunroof because the days have been good for that type of thing lately. At a stoplight, a convertible Corvette pulled up next to me. Ordinarily, I wouldn't have given it a second glace other than a vague wanker mumbled under my breath, but when this guy pulled away from the light, his license plate read PD CASH.

PD CASH. PAID CASH. As in "As a matter of fact, I did indeed produce cash moneys for this particular over-priced vehicle made from fiberglass and middle-aged men's tears." And the sheer arrogance of the entire concept filled me with so much RAWR that I found myself having a very strong flash of lobbing my cup of chai ever so gently out the sunroof of my car so that it would tumble through the air, land directly on his lap, and vomit half melted ice cubes of sweet milky tea all over him and the dash

Effing beautiful. The flash had such strength behind that I found myself unconsciously pacing alongside his car with mine, with my cup in hand. When I realized what was going on, I forced myself to put the tea back in the cupholder before things got too aggro. I think the caffeine and sugar in the chai hitting an empty stomach triggered a hyper-manic episode. I haven't had one of those in quite some time, so it felt alien for a bit until I remembered how to ride it out.

Hell. That would have been a perfect throw, too. Our cars were the perfect heights and space apart, not to mention the wind was working in my favor. I could have launched that baby, put two cars in between us, and get the hell out of Dodge before he even realized what was happening. hah.

Shades of Little Miss Responsible Adult again, I reckon.

It just shows me how bad my brain is fuzzing out, at least. Once I'm aware of it, I can take the steps to dial this shit the fuck back a notch. Or at minimum, make an effort to do so. I've been reading a lot lately in an effort to not get trapped in an endless cycle of obsessive worrying thoughts. Pet Semetary was probably not the wisest of choices, I admit, but following it up with Graham Joyce's new book, How to Make Friends With Demons pulled me out of that hole. I've got a few other books kicking around that I haven't read yet, but they're either just not quite doing it for me or are material that doesn't work well for escapism.

After so many years of trash-talking, I've been thinking about finally trying to read Dune, but I haven't been able to bring myself to buy it.
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...gah.

Everything has just been everything.

School is done. I passed A&P AND Accounting. I reckon I have an associate's degree in Human Services now, though I don't have the fancy piece of paper explaining as such. I believe graduation is in January, but I couldn't tell you definitively. I also don't think I'm going to walk in the ceremony, but I haven't fully decided yet.

So, now I have many months off until September and ACTUAL FUNERAL SCHOOL. Most of the time I'm extremely excited about it, but at the moment- my jaw hurts from my TMJ, it's cold in the apartment, and I'm worn out from my workday and a visit to the vet's office. If I had a little mortuary school flag, I would weakly wave it.

After so many months of gogogogogogo, I really just want to sleep for a thousand years. Sleeping in on Saturday mornings feels fucking phenomenal, let me tell you. Everyone at work keeps asking me what I'm going to do with all my spare time until autumn and my standard answer is "get drunk and play video games"; neither of which I'll likely do much of because I'm largely all talk in that department.

As exhausted as I am, I can still say that it feels pretty goddamn good to have completed this degree. I was the first person in my immediate family to graduate high school and now I have an associate's degree under my belt. It's more than a bit mind-boggling.
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FIVE MORE DAYS

My last chance to steal a cat skeleton from the anatomy lab is Saturday. hee.

That is also the day of my anatomy final, lecture AND lab. We're currently covering the brain and the neural system. My lab group decided to change the mnemonic for remembering how the 12 paired cranial nerves work from Some Say Marry Money But My Brother Says Bad Business Marry Money (s=sensory, m=motor, b=both) to Some Say Marry Money But My Brother Says Big Boobs Matter More, much to our professor's hilarity.

I've been having trouble with the cranial nerves beyond that, because I'm too stuck on the mnemonic (On Old Odin's Towering Top, A Friendly Viking Grew Vines And Hops) and can never remember all of the actual goddamn names. I do Optic, Olfactory, and peter out into Vagus, then totally lose the plot altogther.
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Today, at about 4:38 p.m. and with much hullaballo and runaround, I submitted my graduation application packet.

(as an aside: you need to submit an application for graduation? seriously?)

Last day of classes for me is 12-21-09. After that, I will have my Associate's in Human Services, the first degree gained in a what will be a four degree tour.

And even though I'm stressed out with writing final papers, Accounting exams, and A&P labs, allow me this brief moment to be PSYCHED ALL TO SHIT THAT THIS PRELIMINARY USELESS NONSENSE IS ALMOST DONE.

Fall 2010 should see me elbow deep in cadavers.

:D :D :D
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I have been studying since seven o'clock for my TWO anatomy exams tomorrow. This has been a common thing in ye olde abode for the past week.

And somehow, I don't think it's going to be all roses and daisies.

I had to stop a little while ago and do something mindless (pluck my eyebrows) because my brain felt like it was swelling.

This professor does not like multiple choice questions for her written tests, or providing her students with things like word banks or the like. And the amount of information we must have processed and memorized in a short amount of time is staggering. She's also not fond of telling us what to exactly focus on; instead, we're told: "you're responsible for knowing everything in the chapters we've covered".

Really? Everything? Are you aware of precisely how much information that covers exactly? These two tests tomorrow alone are on three chapters (lab and lecture, so technically- 6 chapters). Osseous tissue and bone structure, axial skeleton, appendicular skeleton, articulations, and the bone markings for both axial and appendicular. That may not sound like a lot, however- let me reassure you. IT IS. I have a stack of handouts from class, from her PowerPoint lectures, and it's a good inch tall.

The non-written test, meaning the lab practical, will basically be a box of bones with stickers plastered on. And the students' job is to identify what the sticker is stuck on. I'm good with just about everything except for the physical differences between the different types of vertebrae (I've never been good with that muck) and a couple of the inside skull markings). But, the lecture exam is going to kick my ass six ways to Sunday.

All of this is extremely disheartening because I've been doing so well up until this semester. And I absolutely NEED this class (and the stupid accounting one that is also giving me headaches) to get into actual funeral school. If I can pass each with a C, I'll be glad to have just passed (despite the fact that I will also have a stroke over what it'll do to my GPA), but with the results in from my last tests in both those class, I fear even for reaching as high as a C.

I have a feeling I'm going to walk into class tomorrow and be able to do nothing but mumble about the xiphoid process and the perpendicular plate of ethmoid.

blargle.



P.S.
The following is the Engineer's version of what I was just typing, according to what he just told the cat:

Dear Government,
My cat is so fat.
Please take him away. He is a science experiment.


Then he left the room.
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Well, my anatomy professor apparently never got my email.

I approached her this morning before class, while handing in my lab assignment due today. I asked her if she'd gotten my email, because I'd never gotten a response. Bottom line of this entire rigaromole is that I can still hand in my take-home practical, but it's at a 50% of its total points. Had I just gone ahead and emailed it to her (without getting proper permission beforehand to do so and ignoring how she says she didn't get my first email), then I would have gotten full credit.

So, not as shitty as getting a complete zero, but more than a bit irritating for its lack of logic. I didn't feel up to fighting the issue, and beyond that- it's not my style to be a big baby to my professors. I'll have to work my ass off for the rest of the semester to make up for it.

It's going to be a rough ride, as well. We have two exams next week, one in lecture and one in lab. Right now we're covering the skeletal system (axial and appendicular), so it's pretty much an exercise in how crazy can she make us. The lab exam is going to involve several stations set up in the lab with various bones. Our job is to go from station to station and identify whatever she has marked with a sticker. Could be the whole bone itself, or be something small and easy to fuck up (like telling the difference between the vomer and the perpendicular plane of the ethmoid, which by the way- holds up the sphenoid sinus).

Learning about the bone markings has been unsettling and eye-opening, at the same time. I used to have a general idea of anatomy. I could name all the organs and organ systems, tell you how they worked, talk a little bit about the celluar level. But, I had no previous idea that the bones themselves have indentations, openings, and markings that all have names and purposes.

The squamous suture, the hypoglossal canal, the cribiform plate, the foramen spinosa. Learning all of their names and locations brings to mind a cartographer traveling through a strange, new land. Sitting through lecture this morning, I kept finding my fingers wandering over my face. Pressing lightly against the skin and muscle, to trace the shape of my skull underneath. I listened the the cold rain outside and made maps of an alien landscape.
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When emailing one's professor, what is the commonly accepted amount of time to elapse before their non-response becomes just plain rude?

I emailed one of my professors five days ago because I missed class on Saturday. I had been sick all the previous week and Saturday was the culmination of all that sick, so I didn't go in. So, I don't know what the assignments due for next Saturday are.

Normally, I wouldn't have bothered emailing and would have just done the next couple chapters just to be sure, but at 3:30 a.m. on Sunday (after a day long haze of Nyquil), I realized that the day I missed was probably one of the worst days to miss ever. See, we'd been given a take-home test to complete two weeks prior and that day was the day to turn it in.

So, I sent her a brief note apologizing for missing class, explaining that I had been ill. I asked if she could tell me what the next assignments were, so I could have it completed. And I explained what I had just realized about the due date, asking if I could scan it in and email it to her or drop it off at the place/time of her choosing. Thanked her for her time, etc.

Five days later? Nothing.

Our syllabus doesn't list an email address, but the one I had was the one she had emailed our take-home from. The syllabus also says nothing about take-home tests being late, only that make-up exams will be scheduled at her discretion. And I don't recall her ever saying anything in particular about the protocol for this sort of thing.

If I have to take a zero for effing up my due date, fine. It was my fault. Even though I was sick, I still should have been responsible enough to pull my head out of my ass long enough to remember the damn take-home test I stressed and slaved over (ask the Engineer, I was really annoying about the whole thing). My own stupid move; I'll cop to it. And I won't be a big whiner and cry a lot to her about how that's unfair because I was so sick and blah blah blah. I know the shit professors have to hear from their students and I know how it can mightily piss them off. They've heard it all and have no time for it. I get that.

But, some kind of response would be nice. Even if it's just to tell me to get bent.

Part of me wants to email her again, just to ask if I should consider her non-response to be indicative of a great big NO to both of my questions. But any way I word it just starts to sound cunty.

Me being me, especially considering how ridiculous I can get about my grades and my GPA, start chasing my own tail over the whole thing. I wonder if the email actually went through, convince myself that it got put in her spam folder by accident, that's she's ignoring me because I'm a dumbass and she's heard it all before, on and on ad nauseum.

As one particularly fun aspect of my OCD, my brain likes to do this and I fucking hate it. I've laid awake for hours on end, unable to sleep, because my brain wouldn't stop running circles around and over the dumbest shuff imaginable. I've gotten stuck in a loop for hours over shit that happened ten or fifteen years ago. Yay, crazy bitch.

The rational side of my brain is rolling its eyes at the slobbering, gibbering idiot on the floor and calmly calculating that the take home was only 5% of my final grade and even if I get a zero, I can just bust my ass for the rest of the semester and hopefully pull a B. I'm so close to the end of this degree and so burnt out that I halfway don't even care. Last semester kicked me down so hard (C in Math for Liberal Arts, I'm still clutching my pearls over that shit), that I just want it all to be over. I'll get a good six month break from all things academic, then start my actual funeral schooling (yay!) Autumn 2010.

I love school, don't get me wrong. I've had a great time for the past two years, working on this degree. Going back was the best decision I've ever made (well, other than buying my iPod and a Mini Cooper), but going full time and working fifty hours a week on top of it can eat my entire ass. Officially. And with due notice.

I'm glad I'm doing this in my 30s, because I take it so much more seriously than the kids out of high school do. But, I kind of wish I'd just done it when most people do, when I wasn't as painfully self-aware and so afraid of failure.

Funeral school, at least, will be part-time. I hadn't been planning on doing it that way originally, but I resigned myself to it because I learned full-time, taking only two semesters to complete, is Monday-Wednesday-Friday 9 am to 5 pm. No frigging way. I can't lose that many hours at work; it's an impossibility. Part-time, is Tuesdays and Thursdays, at night. But, it take two and a half years to complete. That lovely little fact is cordially invited to also partake in the eating of my entire ass.

At least it's two and a half years of the good classes I've been so anxious to take. Especially restoration. They get to practice on actual cadavers. I'm going to be so psyched when that finally comes around, even if I'll probably smell slightly of preservative for quite some time after class and freak out the Engineer. The idea of getting to finally embalm gives me little ridiculous pink hearts around my head.

Funerary science is my fandom. hee.
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This semester has been one of reconciling reality with my apparently massive ego.

Math for Liberal Arts grade is in (I checked today). That professor isn't known as the GPA Killer for nothing, I reckon. But DAMN.

No one's fault but my own and I'd even go so far as to say that I had it coming. I'm just so fucking burned out from schoolschoolschool that I started to not really care after I got dinged a little when the semester first started. Talked myself into a lot of it doesn't matter in the long run.

I registered for Fall, which if all goes well- will actually be my last semester at CCC. Anatomy and Physiology I, Financial Accounting, Social Issues in a Contemporary World, and Field Work. Same schedule set-up as this hell semester I'm just coming out of: Tuesday and Thursdays, 9:30 a.m. to 10:45 a.m. and Saturdays at 9:00 a.m., only now I'll have an additional class at night on Tuesday. Field Work, I just don't know about. They're Thursday afternoon from 2 to 3. I honestly can't do that to my work schedule. I've heard from one of the advisors that the class only meets one a month because it's more of a checking-in kind of thing anyway, but what about the internship that's connected to it? How the fuck am I supposed to fit that in?

I'm thinking of just cashing this shit out at the end of the semester and calling it a day so I can just start taking my funeral classes already. I've got more than enough credits to join the program, after all. I can always go back and finish the associate's, to put me on the road to bachelor's and master's I"ve also been doing a lot of contemplation of do I really NEED a master's degree in Thanatology? NO. Am I only going in that academic direction to be pretentious? YES. Fuck this school shit, I've always wanted to be a waitress. Why did I wait until my 30s to start deciding on careers?

I'm sure the doubt and negative self-talk are more than normal, but it's. fucking. maddening.

(On top of all this, I've found out that for actual funeral school I can go Part-Time, which is twice a week at night and do the degree in two and a half years or I can go Full-Time, which Monday-Wednesday-Friday from 9am to 5pm and be done with the degree in TWO FUCKING SEMESTERS. No matter how I look at it, I can NOT drop my hours at work to do full-time like that. The Engineer suggested I get a private living expense loan to do it, like he did, but it's a community college and they don't really do that sort of thing. I am also am not keen on the idea of taking that much money on in debt, even if I could. I am tearing my hair out over here.)
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1. I has a new computer desk. There wasn't anything wrong with my old desk per se, but I need to condense space. The Engineer recently bought this fly desk that had a bit that swung out on wheels and all, which I immediately fell in love with and thought it would make a spectacular make-up vanity/computer station. See, to make room for the Engineer's gigantor bed, it would be best if I got rid of my old make-up vanity. Which is as old as dirt, takes up far too much room, and I hate like a hating thing hates things.

2. All four snakes now live in one apartment. When we were transporting the Engineer's kingsnake, he skunked me- the little fucker. Kingsnake skunk is a special, special realm of Hell. Like the worst rotting fish/clogged dog anal glands stench ever. I gagged the entire time I was carrying the snake from the Engineer's apartment to mine. Then I washed my hands for twenty minutes.

3. My professor for Math for Liberal Arts is apparently known as the GPA Killer. Would have been nice to know before I started taking his class and uhh...getting my GPA fucking killed. Am unhappy about this, but am also swiftly approaching college burn-out. So, I pendulum swing between being extremely distressed about my GPA dropping and not being able to give a good goddamn.

4. I have a great pile of books to plow through. I also need to update my book list, which I have not done since January. Shouldn't be too hard to remember what I've read since then, as most of them are still piled up in my room on every available surface. Good thing the Engineer has an empty bookshelf. I could probably fill it in twenty minutes. Or less.

5. I am not inebriated whatsoever at this very moment. Nope.

6. I find it curious that every time I wash my car, it rains within the next one to two days. Since I bought the Mini, I have washed it maybe seven or eight times. I blame the OCD and needing to keep the shiny surfaces shiny. Everyone else just thinks I'm fucking nuts.

7. I conquered my downloading of videos from Youtube and actually getting them to have sound problem from a few days ago. It involved the downloading of an entirely different program that finally did it. Now I can dork out over rockstars wherever I may happen to be roaming at the moment.

8. I forget what eight is for.
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My ears won't stop popping and it is driving me batty.

Also, when I finish with this Math for Liberal Arts course? I am going to take the textbook out in the street and set it on fire.

ON. FIRE.

P.S.
I require massive amounts of cheese. STAT.

I have a nice-sized chunk of Primadonna in my refrigerator and the fact I can't eat any of it (or it'll make my sinuses worse) is maddening.
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The very next time I refer to Math for Liberal Arts as "Math for Retards", someone please punch me in the head. That shit is no joke, son. And it is made even less of a joke by being at nine in the morning on a frigging Saturday.

Combine that with me being sicker than I've ever been in a long-ass time and you've got an unhappy me, who is slightly worried about her GPA.

Yeah, it's that bad.

The illness I have been struck down by is refusing to leave my system. It's centered in my sinuses and makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a cold spoon. My mouth is horribly dry because I am forced to breathe through it, my nose is raw from being blown over and over, and I have a constant headache from my congested sinuses. It's as if some Devil Squid has taken up residence in my sinus cavities and refuses to jump ship.

All of this, whilst in the midst of an open enrollment for benefits at work with a two person HR department. hoom. I went home early yesterday because I couldn't think straight anymore.

I have two online exams due by the 16th or 17th that I haven't even cracked the book open for, I took one exam on Tuesday for another class that I'm pretty sure I screwed, I have Math for Geniuses homework due on Saturday (and he gives us a fucktonne of work), the apartment is a disaster, the snake needs to be fed, I need to gather up clothes for Ella's Naked Lady Party on Sunday, I need to arrange for Purple Heart to come pick up the Caddy, I need to take the Mini to be inspected, and I have three packages which desperately need to go to the post office.

If I wasn't feeling so sick, I wouldn't only be slightly crazy at all of this. But, the illness makes me shut down completely. I'm so scared of this developing into an infection because I don't have health insurance (can't afford it) and can't afford a doctor's visit.

D:
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So, whose bright idea was it to enroll me in Tuesday/Thursday MORNING class for Psychology of Personality Adjustment (and wtf does that even mean, anyway*)?

While you're all researching that, you may also like to look into what numbskull thought it was a fantastic idea to take a SATURDAY MORNING class in the same semester.

Oh, and work not one- but TWO 11 hours days during the week? Yeah, all probably the same dipshit.

All of that being said, said dipshit (didja guess it was me? didja??) is currently rocking a THREE POINT EIGHT SIX.



P.S.
* Psychology of Personality Adjustment? It means this: This course encourages personal growth through a study of personality adjustment and maladjustment, utilizing lectures, class discussions and experimental exercises. Theories of personality, ego adjustment mechanisms, love and intimacy, effective communication, managing emotions, identity and self-esteem, developing good human relations, problem solving, and ways of tapping one's potential are among the topics examined. Related research findings are reviewed.

That's going to be a big bag of fun. I plan on making up stories about how my father never loved me and crying in a class a lot.

My other classes are Math for Liberal Arts (that's the Saturday morning one), Legal Environment/Business Law I, and Chemistry & Society. This is going to be a hoot.
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I am at work at 9:30 in the morning; I have been here since 8:45. THIS IS UNNATURAL.

(and before anyone starts crying about how they go to work at stupid o'clock, please bear in mind that I have been arriving at work at 10am for the past four and a half years.)

Class yesterday left me with an angry face. For starters, the air doesn't apparently work in that room and yesterday was quite warm. It's also a small room and the door and windows were shut. Full house.

Yeah, can you imagine that funk? It smelled like sweaty ass. Gag.

On top of that, the professor doesn't seem to know what the fuck she is doing. If she has a lesson plan, I'll eat my hat. Not only that, but at one point, she took us into the drawing studio and gave us paper and charcol and told us to draw. DRAW?! This is a fucking art history class. If I wanted to draw, I would have taken DRAWING. The syllabus also instructs us to buy a sketchbook and graphite. I can't draw to save my goddamn life; I'm not a fucking artist.

I'm giving it a couple of classes, just to see if maybe this was only first day issues. But, if things don't ship the fuck up, I'm shipping the fuck out.

I was also not alone in these feelings as there were mighty grumblings from the other students. At one point towards the end of class, the professor was kind of waffling around and flipping through the text book, trying to figure out where her fucking shoes were or something, and a girl on the other side of the room spoke up and said, "Would you like us to read the chapter, so we can be prepared for next class?" in this very pointedly snarky voice. And the professor looked up from her navel meditation and said, "Oh. Yeah. That would be great." and went back to it.

I do not compute.

How the hell can you be a teacher and be like this?
thejunipertree: (Default)
My second to last semester (for this degree) starts tomorrow and I've got wibblies in my stomach over it for some reason.

Possibly because I don't have any of my books and have still yet to receive anything resembling a goddamn schedule in the mail. Luckily, WebAdvisor exists and lists what rooms one is supposed to be on and on what days. But, c'mon. I don't know the professors' names or anything and that can be crucial to book buying.

Now I have to go to these classes and sit there without a book like a tool.

On top of all of this, the college discontinued their student disbursement card program. If one qualified, they would have six hundred dollars of their student loan released early and put on a debit-like card for book-buying purposes. And for fall semester, the card normally arrives by the first week of August.

This year? Not so much. I didn't get a card in the mail, I didn't get a notice in the mail of the program being discontinued, nothing. What I did get was a letter stating that because I registered for my classes so early, an amount from my loan would be released and I could go to the campus bookstore, present identification, and get my books. Nothing about the disbursement program and nothing about any actual amounts listed.

Bugshit fuckery.

I had to call financial aid and weasel information out of them about it. At first, the woman wouldn't tell me how much is alloted because they "can't release amounts over the phone". And I asked her how on earth was I to know how much extra money I should bring with me to the bookstore. Her answer? "I couldn't possibly guess, miss."

There is a reason a phone has not yet been invented which would allow one to reach through the wires and slap the ever-living teeth out of someone's mouth.

Finally, I managed to ask the right question to get the right response: "Well, can you at least tell me if the amounts released are comparable to the former disbursement program?"

And her answer?

"Oh yeah. They're exactly the same."

FORTY MINUTES ON HOLD AND TEN MINUTES OF ARGUING FOR THIS?

I swear to God, I can't take much more of this college. I've pondered just stopping after this semester because I will have enough credits to hit funeral school by the end of it (I need 60 total, I'm currently at 51), but I will eventually need the actual degree for my bachelor's and then, for my graduate's.

Sometimes, I also play with the idea of saying fuckallthisnonsense and just stopping once I have the actual funeral degree. You don't need further degrees to be a funeral director. It would be so much less hassle (and loan money) if I just flaked on the bachelor's in human services and master's in thanatology. SO MUCH LESS HASSLE, I TELL YOU.

Hopefully, and I don't mean to bite myself in the butt here, this semester will be fairly smooth sailing. Art History, Intro to Political Science, Western Civ I (yeah, I know I took Civ II last semester, I decided to backtrack it because I needed another history class), and Group Dynamics. Only four classes this time, instead of five. I only have eight left I need to take for the degree, so I figured I'd split them up evenly between the two semesters.

Next semester will bring me a mandatory internship, which I am quite sure will fill me full of so much joy and song, it will be sickening. It will also bring me a non-idiot math class; I plan on Math for Liberal Arts because even though I got an A in idiot-Algebra (otherwise known as Introduction to Elementary Algebra, which was a non-credit course I had to take because of my mouth-breathing math test scores), I do not trust my brainmeats to get me through actual college-level maths.

ugh.

Bed now. Work is at 9 tomorrow morning, instead of my usual 10, because of my new school schedule. I have to leave at 4 on three days of the week. If I stayed at coming in at 10, to reach my required fifty hours at work, I would have to work 12 hours on Saturday, which just will not do. So, it's 9 am three days a week. Hi ho and all that.

ugh again.
thejunipertree: (Default)
OH HAI U GUIZ!!!1!

GRADES ARE IN!

GUESS WHO TOTALLY GOT A'S IN ALL HER CLASSES THIS SEMESTER? EVEN THAT SHITTY SOCIAL WORK PROCESSES CLASS WHERE A GROUP PROJECT NEEDED TO BE DONE AND THREE OUT OF SIX GROUP MEMBERS ONLY DID ALL OF THE WORK??


p.s.
I totally only need 9 more credits to enroll in the funeral services program at Mercer. Of course, finishing out this first degree is 27 more credits.
thejunipertree: (Default)
1 18 page final Western Civ II exam = finished (not for lack of the fates fucking with me, I lost almost half the exam yesterday when I rondo-fingered the computer and did not save the document when I closed it)

1 12 page paper on why abstinence-only education doesn't work for Social Problems = finished (and I am heartily sick of the phrase "abstinence-only education")

1 Power Point presentation for Social Work Processes class = finished (despite not getting the completed outline from the rest of my group until after five o'clock today AND not having Power Point on my computer)

Next? A 12 page paper on Polyamory for my Sociology of the Family class. I've got my outline typed and my references formatted, but I'm so bleary-eyed right now, I can't think straight enough to do any work on it. Which is wonderful because I have a late class tomorrow night and Tuesday night is a concert. I will get this shit done.

Also, have been carrying around an anxious knot in my stomach for two weeks. Work? School? I can't identify it, but I keep telling it to STFD and leave me alone.

Something's in the air.
thejunipertree: (Default)
DEAR INTERNETS:

Tonight, I kicked the shit out of my World Lit final.

Dang, seriously. I made it my little bitch.

Especially with the essay I wrote comparing and contrasting the relationships of Shakespeare's Hamlet/Ophelia, Marie de France's Bisclavret/his wife, Anne Bradstreet/her husband, and Beowulf's Grendel/Grendel's mother. Then I discussed what these four relationships said about the nature of love.

It was entitled: Douchebaggery, Thy Name is Hamlet.

I love this class and am very sad that my last night of it is next week. Except for how I had to sit through five different students tonight attempting to read Sonnet 130 (My mistress's eyes are nothing like the sun...) for twenty-five points of extra credit.

That was pretty painful, yo.

This class seriously kind of maybe makes me contemplate going into literature as a some kind of major and eventual profession. But, I am not quite that much of a maschochist.

Oh, what manner of nonsense is that?

Yo ho, yo ho, it's a mortician's life for me!

Love,
~tara

P.S.
The Engineer totally talked about masturbation and ball-shaving tonight to the Masons. It slayed me.

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