rasp

A wet woolen sweater--

Two years ago today my life changed. This morning my mail declared that I am disqualified for financial aid. This is worse than bad and needs fixing. I have been having one of those months. My car exploded, I had to borrow the cash to fix it. Cash that I would repay on good faith of student loans. Those same loans that I now might not receive. Looks like internet porn (sic) is my last resort. This is one of those days, months. I am not fond of September and wish it would be over; it hurts like hell and back again.

But, as they say, cowboy up girl, cowboy up. And I will. I'll pull on my boots and fill out the forms. I will talk to important people and use decisive words. OR I'll say f*ck all of this and quit everything. That seems good right about now. No more children of miserable bosses asking me about the mating habits of marsupials. No more making less than $700 in a month. Instead I'll say kiss it! and start working a decent job with low morals and a high wage. By low, I mean pulling coffee and writing erotica for online magazines.

Why, I ask, am I doing all of this? Did I really suppose that I could better myself and have a decent, respectable future? Was that the point, or was it just something to do? Now that I am doing other things more fulfilling... There are allot of questions going through my brain. I am severely distraught and angry at the bottom of it. I dealt with this problem a month ago. I filled out the paper work, both the white and yellow sheets, and was not expecting this blow. Not today, today hurt enough without that.