Tag Archives: alone

Financial Aid After Dropping Out

Heads up guys!

So, fun story, last semester I signed up for classes for Spring 2015.  Even though I had already decided to drop out (again) at the time I was so invigorated by the idea that maybe I just need to stick to it!  Which sort of backfired on me as I instantly felt regret when I confirmed my attendance as well.  Please don’t be like me and forget that you did until the last moment when suddenly, school is around the corner.  I walked in, trying to be brave, and had to physically unregister from the semester.  Oddly enough, this was painless part.  Until they asked me to go to the Student Success Center and have an interview.  Why?!

The secretary was nice enough and slid me this blue sheet which I used to perform a self-interview on why I was dropping out.  That wasn’t hard, and I did make light of the situation in a way by responding, “If I had wanted it more then maybe I wouldn’t have been more motivated to stay,” to “… is there anything the individual, or the school, could have done to…” to basically say otherwise.  Ye-yuh for bad break-up replies.  Hopefully that doesn’t come back to bite me.  Goodness, please no.

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3rd day of the semester for the students.  I receive a letter as I am literally walking out to pick up my laundry downstairs.  It is from my old uni and about the refund I got several days ago (almost a week).  Apparently I’ve no claim to it and they would like their money back.  Not going to lie, I was a little dumbstruck.  A lot of questions ran through my mind: for example, why did they give me the refund in the first place?  Why don’t I have any claim?  And so on.  Like rage mashing a button for the anger welling up inside me.  Mostly because I had already spent the money on bills, paying off some of my debts, and taking a generous portion to donate into my savings because I need an emergency fund.  Everyone needs an emergency fund.

Thankfully I sorted it out (had to call in some aid from my parents).  This is what I am advising all dropouts make sure is done:

– please talk to Financial Aid, especially if you pulled out loans.  Should be a no-brainer but eh…

– make sure you are officially unregistered

– DO NOT TOUCH THE REFUND

– seek counseling if you need it.  Hard and unpleasant business, leaves you muddy feeling.

Short, simple.  Get it done.  Unlike me who waited forever.  Make sure you are up to date on all school charges.  It can be bull, and it won’t be fun but reward yourself.  Like by eating chocolate.  Lots of chocolate…

P.S.  With all this debt and managing money, doesn’t it seem like that if you could drop your current identity and all debt attached to it seem a lot easier?

Moving Out Is a Pain

Slumbering through school at the moment, my mood is getting the drop on me while I pour over the apartment listings.  Weirdly enough, I don’t have too many options for one bedroom apartments or studios.  I did try to move out in the middle of winter.  Also tried to apply to an income based housing complex – turned down because my dad claimed me as a dependent on his taxes last year.  Ouch.  Like, seriously, that’s not cool!

Already told my roommate when I was planning on moving out and everything was sorted until really, two weeks ago when both our plans failed. Miserably.  They just jumped off the cliff of awesomeness and swan-dived into the pit of despair.  So I sat my roommate down and told him what was up with me and that I’ll probably be around.  I also told him I’m not going to just straight up ditch him – cause that’s a b*tch-*ss move and I still value our friendship.  He was thankful, we broke bread (essentially) and everything is pretty much at a standstill until then.

Guess I have time to save more money and get some other things aligned?  Found out my moms are buying me some furniture for my new apartment (something I was looking forward to until I realized I’m pretty broke).  TTOTT Bless their souls!  For the most part, there are a lot of good things about moving out later versus now.

– I have a place to live

– I’m taking a photo class; my roommate graduated with a MCOM degree with an emphasis in Photography

– Time to save

– Could possibly be decent at driving with some practice

– Summer might mean more available apartments?

In the end, we’ll shall soon find out.

“’Single’ is an opportunity to live life on your own terms and not apologize.”

– Mandy Hale

I found out a really good friend of mine may be starting a blog about being single and that’s exciting.  I’m looking for it in the next month.  In the meanwhile, some food for thought:  there are many perks to being single.  And while I sit there and think on it I find that there are many things I appreciate that, while alone, am also thankful.

What say you guys who glimpse this over?

Background

One of the most beloved things were the key tones of a dial pad.

For the most part, life had been a complete blur of events.  Many memories had slipped through colours of sunsets and sundowns that the most relative parts became increasingly hard to grasp.  As I grew older, so did my heart grow weary from isolation and lack of stimulation.  It is hard to state with confidence that I was indeed alive in the beautiful sense of the word.  A hollow being masquerading.

As an adolescent my head felt static – a horrible numbness that I never wish to return to.  My attitude was apathetic:  what would be would be without my consent; destiny.  The day I learned to read and understand the abstract concept of words was a day of salvation.  With this newfound power I learned the secret portal to a myriad of worlds, wishes and dreams.  And that is how I marched on, never truly attaching myself to any one thing except little books and grandiose stories (some imagined, some discovered).  They gave me the emotions I lacked in life, reality later to be echoed, reinvented in my dreams, daydreams.  Some of the best times I had as a kid were when I was sleeping, dreaming despite the significant amount of nightmares.  A whole range of feelings was discovered as I ran my fingers nervously across pages of heroes, powerful men and women who never gave up.  I admired them.  Nights were spent running with the wolves, dancing among fierce battles parrying invisible blades from a dastardly enemy who sought every chance to slight me.  But no matter how many times I closed my eyes and laid out the scenes, the characters, the plots, I’d always realize that it was not to be.

I’m here. In this world where my family is falling apart.  Where people antagonize each other because they didn’t know better.  That’s the kind of place I live in, the situation I’m in.

And it progressively grew worse and worse.

I entered the eighth grade, a very interesting year.  Already in sixth and seventh grade my stepmother’s influence was growing faint…  By eighth, though the details are still hazy, she had moved out and onto the economy.  And then it was myself, my older brother and my younger brother left with my dad.  The haze in my mind grew, the desire to be elsewhere, anywhere but home intensified and school became my salvation each and every weekday.  I studied hard, for it soon became a saving grace, the trump card to deny interaction with my father.  The dreaded awkwardness.

But I was still lonely.  I justified my inability to make meaningful friends by telling myself that deep down, I didn’t deserve them.  It became the whole of my existence that happiness wasn’t mine to obtain though dearly in my heart I wished so strongly to achieve it.  I thought that if I got close enough, reached out, I could preserve one little piece to tide me over until my inevitable death.  Desperation crippled me.  Guilt destroyed me.  Little by little, what was left of my desire to continue living was chiseled away.  I rode on a bus that sent me back to the hole I crawled out of, the abyss my brothers and I endured…  I really can’t call it that.  It just was, and we just existed as entities in that space.  We weren’t people anymore, we weren’t human.  I went back to my home, my darkness and died every day trying to survive.

My room was my solace.  I could use it to shut out almost of the pain scratching at my door.  I ached and projected my feelings and needs of comfort onto stuffed animals whom I cried at the thought of being mine.  Experiencing my distress, my suffering, why did they need to be exposed to that?  I drowned in an anesthetic developed through witness to the dismantling of my identity and purpose as an individual of a society.  Why should they deserve to also be in this environment?  But I couldn’t bare for anything to leave…  I couldn’t bear to think that they would leave.  Because despite all the voices I heard from my environment, it didn’t feel as lonely as realizing that there was nothing there to hold me.

Death was a pleasant past time.  I dreamed so fondly of it.  It seemed like bliss, like a beautiful escape.  But I couldn’t take anyone with me.  My dear beloved items, though only possessions, were my family.  I didn’t want to leave them behind.  Many days I fought the urge to break skin or fall through my window or sink into a watery slumber.  But they always pulled me back.  My family I had created preserved enough of me to meet one key person:  M.