(What I'm sure will be) The Ongoing Sasga of Financial Aid

My financial aid forms were finally processed and put through yesterday. I don't know how or why this very important work was done on a Saturday. My guess is for shock value.

I filed my FAFSA as soon as I heard that I was accepted to school -- back in May or so. Within a few weeks, I had received my financial aid "award package." They call it this to make it sound like something fun and exciting, when, in my case at least, the "award package" actually turns out to be a soul-crushing denial of what you may think you're worth to a school. It's like they know only a crazy person would turn down Columbia, and everyone else will surely find some way to cough up the cash.

Not that coughing up cash is a big deal to most of the people I've seen around TC so far. In my 35-person summer class, I was one of only two people holding down a job. That means there were at least 33 people spending $3000 or so dollars on a class and $xbajillion living in Manhattan on...their inheritances? Money saved from their previous lives as abstemious bankers? Highly mysterious; I must learn their secrets.

I have no money. Columbia chose not to believe this when doling out my "award," and I proved that they were right in doing so by agreeing to attend, and pay, anyway. Sometimes I wonder if this was some kind of test -- "Are you really stupid enough to go thousands of dollars into debt for this? Then ACCEPTANCE RESCINDED. We don't need fools tarnishing our good name." So far I have not been kicked out, mostly thanks to my dad taking the hit for Summer tuition (though I did pay for my book, which, despite being an electronic [i.e. almost totally free to produce] version, cost around $90. how do you explain that?).

So yes, anyway, my Fall/Spring/Summer financial aid has come through, leaving me with living expenses -- but, hey, not tuition! -- to worry about. Yay! It only took months and months and months, through which I fretted constantly over whether everything was going through correctly. I think I called or visited the financial aid offices at least half a dozen times since getting accepted, always with a different way of phrasing the question, "So how can I get some money from you people?" I was put on academic probation for about a week -- they said because of a computer glitch, but I think it was just to get me to ask them something different.

I'm not sure if this means I should always trust financial aid to come through in the end, or if it means I should never ever trust financial aid to do things without half a dozen desperate calls. Those people thrive on drama.

The last hurrah

We went on a week-long camping trip last week -- my last paid vacation time before unemployment and permanent, unpaid loafing commences.

It started out well -- equipped with a GPS system, fully-stocked iPod and 5 pound bag of Sourpatch Kids riding shotgun, Gerard, the dog and I cruised up to Maine in just over the time estimated by the good folks at Garmin International. We were staying at my aunt's, in neighborhood a cross between the middle of nowhere and luxury golf community -- the type of place where people never lock their mansion doors.

The idyllic atmosphere did not keep a local villain from robbing us the night before we left. The Garmin and fully-stocked iPod were no longer ours, although the thief had kindly left the complementing plugs, our stereo, my purse and everything else we owned.

Bummed out, but not deterred, we set out for Acadia with borrowed maps and some Google directions, which kept us in line during that quick, two-hour trip. A few days later, when we left on an estimated 6 hour drive for Vermont, things did not go so smoothly.

The robbery really did us in on this leg of the trip. The missing iPod was bad enough, as it forced us to choose between 8 country music stations (in Maine? Yes.) and Rush Limbaugh for most of the trip. The missing Garmin was simply disastrous. Thanks to horrible Google directions, we started off going about an hour in the wrong direction. Google had, you see, mistaken route 1 for route 1A. And once we actually did get into Vermont, Google pretty much gave up on us. The instructions to the campsite were along the lines of, "Go over a mountain, or something, and, uh, you should see it."

If Google has enough satellite power to practically peer into my windows, how can it possibly not know where Vermont is in relation to the Maine coast? Why, when we have done our due diligence and printed out Google directions before embarking, should we have to rely on our wits, AAA maps and the vague instructions of a convenience store owner?

It is a main peeve of mine when things do not accomplish the one objective for which they are designed. Google's failure to get us where we needed to be was akin to the Mets' utter inability to win baseball games or Comedy Central's strong aversion to comedy. Shoot, I can get you lost or strike out or make bad jokes for half of what these frequent offenders are making. Especially if you pay me in Garmins.

Today, I quit my job

Actually, I'm not sure if that was a totally bad decision, considering that my job occasionally made me feel like faking a horrible accident that would get me out of work for multiple weeks, and my impending poverty is surely going to be slightly more fun (and more legal) than that.

But isn't "Today, I quit my job" an intriguing kick-off to a blog entitled "mostly bad decisions?" Also a bad decision: ending that previous sentence with ? and "". I never can remember the rule for which goes where.

So, yes, welcome to my blog, wherein you will see what happens when I quit my job to go back to school and quickly fall $35,000 into debt. No, I do not have any other jobs lined up. Yes, I am extremely concerned about that.

I've actually already made multiple bad decisions related to what I am going to chronicle in this blog, but I made the horrible decision to not write them down in a timely manner. In fact, I'm cheating just a little: I started school 5 weeks ago and made the decision to quit my job long before that.

Today, though, is the real start. The resignation is in, I just received my syllabus for my first real class (summer session doesn't REALLY count, does it?), and I am pretty much crapping my pants with terror over how I am going to feed myself.

And did I mention that I am taking a puppy on a multi-hour road trip to some remote campgrounds in about a week? Mostly bad decisions. I make those.