I Thought This Was It

My whole life I wanted to be a veterinarian.  So when that didn’t pan out, after time and time again of putting fourth my best effort–I was lost.  I didn’t know what to do with my life or what backup career I would chase.

And it took a lot of soul-searching and research to find an acceptable alternative–I just didn’t WANT to do anything that wasn’t animal related.  But Audiology made the most sense.  Sure, I didn’t love it in the same way and wasn’t excited about it like I was for animal work.  But nothing came close.  And it did spark my interest.  And in Audiology I could help people like my dad.  And there were a lot of great things about the career:  A stable schedule, more 9-5PM healthcare, higher salary so I could fight only my undergrad degree costs.

So I went to Riverpoint for 2 years.  And worked my A$$ off.  I really earned that 4.0 and for once in my life, made working the 2nd priority, which 9 times out of 10, was HARD.  I thought the grades would carry me into the next step of the program this time.  I thought with that 4.0 GPA, no admissions would reject me again.

But grades weren’t all I had.  I still participated in the extra-curriculars, volunteered, did extra for my program, observed professionals on my own time.  I had good letters from people I worked to know.  I even traveled out-of-state for the interview.

And I was 14th on the list.  For a class of 12.  So 2nd on the waiting list.  Wait-listed AGAIN.  And even though I knew from multiple experiences what that meant, and how much of a long shot the wait list is–there was a teeny bit of hope.

Not a lot, but enough that I didn’t make any non-reversible plans or huge life decisions.  But in 40 minutes with the close of business hours, the wait list is over.  I will not be joining the Audiology doctoral class in 10 days.  I feel sad.  Sad for wasting all that effort at Riverpoint–not to mention incurring even more student loan debt on an education I can’t use.  And I’m relieved.  Because 10 days to get ready for a rigorous program is not a lot.  I didn’t have a loan for tuition, didn’t know how to make rent when students aren’t allowed off campus jobs, didn’t have books or a parking permit, and forgot far too many concepts and details of my hearing courses.

But mainly I feel lost again.

I’m not sure where to start over.  I can’t really pay for more school after the big move, and I’ll probably never go back to a big university, because for me it just hasn’t been worth all the money.  But what about a technical program?  Community college?  A job?  And in what area?

So again I’m left with a lot of questions and no real direction.  All I know is something has to happen soon.

Typical of Saint George Vet: Interview Schedule

7-16-08

Hello —-,

 

The  Board of Admissions is pleased to invite you to attend an interview as

the  next  stage  in  your application to St. George’s University School of

Veterinary Medicine.

 

Your  interview will take place in Stillwater, OK.  It will be conducted by

Patrick Morgan, DVM, a representative for St. George’s University School of

Veterinary  Medicine.    Dr. “old dude” will be contacting you to arrange for a

convenient  date  and time to interview.  He will also furnish you with the

directions at that time.

 

While  the  primary  goal  of the interview is to assess the attributes and

motivations  of  the  veterinary  school  candidate,  this  is  the perfect

opportunity  for  you  to  learn  more about our facilities and programs as

1. I  am  sure  that you have already given thoughtful consideration to

many  aspects  of  a  veterinary  medicine  education, and we would like to

encourage  you  to  address  any  specific  questions about St. George’s in

particular directly to us.

 

 

Please note that at the start of your interview, you will be asked to write

a  brief personal essay. You will be given about 10 to 15 minutes to answer

one out of three questions. The questions are based on personal experiences

or  motivations.  The essay is a great opportunity to tell us a little more

about you.

 

Once you have confirmed your arrangements, please inform me via email.

 

Thank  you for your cooperation and interest in St. George’s University. We

look forward to meeting you.

 

 

Regards,

Admissions Counselor

U.S. Admissions

 

St. George’s University

N American Correspondence

C/o University Support Services LLC

One East Main Street

Bay Shore, NY 11706

9-5-08
Good afternoon, [not my name]. I am back from Grenada and trying to set my calendar for the remainder of September. Please send me a list of dates you can come to Stillwater with your preferences in order. I will schedule a date as close to your first choice as possible. I look forward to talking with you about your chosen career.
“old dude,” DVM

 

9-10-08

Good morning, [my actual name, thank you]. You get 1st choice, Sept 23rd. Let me know whether you would like to interview morning or afternoon and, if you have a specific time that is best for you, let me know. I will not make other commitments on the 23rd until I know your preferences. I have your application papers so you don’t need to bring any of that. You should prepare an outline of how you will finance your 4 year DVM program.

Do you want me to make a motel reservation for you or send you the telephone numbers of local motels? I look forward to talking with you.

old dude, DVM
Adjunct Professor, SGU/SVM

Hello ——,

A final determination can take up to 4 to 6 weeks depending on how often
the Board meets and how competitive your file is. Feel free to contact me
for any updates after your interview.

Regards,
Admissions Counselor

I’m starting to panic. This vet school interview isn’t scheduled yet. My guy is not dependable at all. He put this off until September, forgot to call, didn’t even remember me when I called, pretended that he was planing on calling me that day, then blew me off and never called back. I don’t know if I should pester him and make him angry, or wait, or change my interview location. . . Then, I see people are getting accepted for January, possibly taking my scholarships, and they had to wait a month after their interview to find out! I feel powerless and stressed!

I need to calm down. I can’t do the interview for at least 2 weeks anyone. During that time, I will have my surgery and make $3,000 to fund my education. I can also have time to plan the trip and get dad together if necessary. That leaves me about 14 weeks, or four months to get my shit together. That’s plenty of time. I can fly Gandhi to Nevada and be there for Nevada day. Then, I can go back to Missouri, work and pack the rest of my apartment. Since everything is already in storage it won’t take long. I can clean the apartment and be done. The lease doesn’t run out until the end of December.

What else needs to be done before I go to another country? I need to sell some stuff, but I typed a list yesterday. Today I should look on the newspapers and see how to post an add. Going to Nevada later than Halloween won’t be so bad—I’ll make more money at my job, not pay for an empty apartment, and only have the chance to fight with my parents for 7 weeks. That’s plenty of time to spend with my parents. It’s over the holidays. As long as I’m there by Thanksgiving it will work out fine. If I’m here, I can moake money, study in peace, and write my book. That’s good.

This is fine I only need to know by October 20 if I’m going. A week to make my plane reservation. You know, I can actually make that reservation to fly Gandhi as soon as I can pay for it. I need to start communication with Aunt Linda to see about Choco-luv first. Ok, no worries. This gives me a chance to practice interview questions and write essays. Ok, sell stuff, write Aunt Linda, get rid of some stuff and maybe start cleaning empty parts of my apartment. Get dad’s train route, and my driving route.

9-13-08
Good morning, —–. Anytime 9 to 10 AM would be best for me. Let me know where you will be staying as some of the motels have very good places to have a private conversation and some do not. If you are staying in one of the latter, we will talk in my home office. I retired from Okla. State in 1995 and thus have no university office.

As to your writing assignment, you are correct in that I cannot tell you specifics except that you will be given your choice of three questions relating to the veterinary profession.
This is designed to be spontaneous and of short duration. From what I have seen in your application you should have no problem with this assignment.

Usually the SGU Registrar’s Office does not tell the applicant anything about the interviewer, but the interviewer knows quite a bit about the applicant. My career is a testimony to the many opportunities available to veterinarians. I have been a veterinarian 50 years and married to the same lady 50 years. DVM from UGeorgia 1958, 4 years with USDA, MPH from Tulane Medical Center 1963, 2 years US Army, DrPH Tulane 1968, 1 yr clinician in Tulane Medical School laboratory animal facility, 5 years faculty/administrator in Tulane School of Public Health and Tropical Medicine, 23 years combined work with OK Dept. of Public Health, OKU School of Public Health, OKStateU School of Veterinary Medicine, 1 yr faculty/administrator Ross U SVM St. Kitts W.I., 2 yrs owner/clinician small animal out patient clinic in South Louisiana, last 2+ years part-time consultant with St. George’s U/SVM. There; more than you ever wanted to know.

My interviews usually are 1 to 2 hrs depending on how many questions the applicant asks me.

I look forward to talking with you on the 23rd. My Stillwater telephone # is —–.

old dude, DVM

9-15-08
Good morning, —–. I need to meet with you a little earlier than we had planned; 8:30 AM in the lobby of the Fairfield if this works for you. If not, please call me at—–.

Patrick Morgan, DVM

Hello ——,

Are you still interested in applying to our school, I haven’t heard from
you in quite some time.

Regards,

Thank you, and good luck!

9-16-08
Once your interview is over your summary will be forwarded along with your
file to the Board for a final determination. If you have any other
questions, or concerns please let me know!!

Regards,

9-29-08
I was just wondering if Dr. old dude sent my interview paperwork to the
school yet. I’m very anxious to find out if I’m accepted!

Thanks!

Yes ——-,

Your file is currently with the Board, I should have something within a
couple of weeks. Feel free to check your status at any time!

Regards,

10-6-08
Yes, they have, and I have checked on your file last Friday (I usually
check every week on the review progress). I’m hoping to get a decision
back as soon as possible, however keep in mind that the usual time frame
can take up to 6-8 weeks. I’ll call you as soon as I hear something and in
the mean time feel free to check up on your file as many times as you like!

Regards,

The Dreaded Wait-List

Well, I’ve been here before.  I’m on the all too familiar borderline.  First, 3rd grade math, the cusp between B+ and A-, then vet school (so many times), and now this Audiology program.  The uncertainty, the waiting, decreased financial aid opportunities. . .

I knew I shouldn’t have put all of my eggs in one basket.  Again.  But I felt that I didn’t have another (good) choice:  1)  I wanted to live in the same place as Cool and both kitties (without roommates),  2)  Afford the rent (WITHOUT ROOMMATES = read Seattle-housing blogs), 3)  Have job opportunities for Cool, 4)  move only 1 more time after this big move, and of course 4)  go to a place with said AuD program.  Boulder, Colorado was too expensive to live and Greeley didn’t have employment.  Seattle and Portland’s cost of living is too high (and commute terrible).  Idaho has no jobs, and the program required an additional move halfway through–3 hours away.  There was no housing (other then student = no Cool, no kitties) in Logan Utah.  Every other school was a really, really far, expensive, move.  I only applied to Salt Lake City, because that’s the only place that was going to work.

I tried the best I could and wouldn’t change anything about my application.  I always, always felt that I was destined for greatness.  Something bigger, something impressive.  But even doing EVERYthing differently this time (vs. vet school attempts) the results are much the same.  And it makes me doubt everything.  Am I supposed to just have a j-o-b?  Go to work doing nothing meaningful or spectacular and focus elsewhere on my life?  I always thought it was a career and making a difference that was my path–but this gives me so much doubt.

Wait-list is a helpless position.  I have to wait.  Wait while someone else determines my future.  This time I will follow up with a letter of enthusiasm (which I have sent).  Saying they are my first choice, I’ve done this and that new thing, and the program is a good fit because. . .  I’ll follow this through to the end.

But it was supposed to be MY turn.  And I can’t help but feel sorry for myself, that I may have just wasted 2 more years and thousands of dollars (and a LOT of headache) at Riverpoint getting nowhere.  I may be back at square one–again.  What now?

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“Myspace Alicia”

I’m going through the 2014 albums while I study to write my end-of-the-year music blogs.  I know!  I haven’t posted 2013’s yet–but I’m still working on it.  Anyway, I got to Imogen Heap, and it reminds me very much of Douche.

It has been forever since I’ve written about Douche–mostly b/c I hate to think of that creep.  Also, because I finally accepted some people are sociopaths–no matter how well you thought you knew them.  Imogen Heap actually reminds me of Myspace Alicia, some 19 year old girl Douche attached to.  Imogen was this girl’s favorite and I know that because I used to scour her Myspace profile trying to understand.

At the time, I didn’t get that people played games.  I was naive that an older person (Douche) would hook a 19 year old just to show off how “cute” of a gal could be secured.  I didn’t get that Douche was maybe trying to make me–the world–envious.  At the time, I only looked and looked trying to see what the 2 could possibly have in common. . .

I hate Douche-still do, I’ll never stop.  I didn’t deserve that treatment, and didn’t understand where it was coming from at that time.  I had no idea you could be close to someone for 3 years but not know them at all.  I didn’t know there were sociopaths that adapted their personality to what they thought you wanted–did want–in order to manipulate.  And I didn’t know the extent people could play games after a break-up.  BUT knowing Douche did teach me lessons:  Don’t date someone b/c you feel shallow for not being attracted to them, if something seems too good to be true-it probably is, not everyone is going to be honest with you, not everyone has your best interests at heart, some people are just not meant to be understood, sometimes you have to let people (or the memory of who they were supposed to be) go.

I wonder if Myspace Alicia felt the same way in the end that I did–that it was a fake and a trick.  I hope Douche got (and is still getting) all the bad karma that is deserved.  Though I have no idea where that crazy is or what that evil is up to currently–thank goodness…

I like the new album even if it takes me back to that chapter of my life a little.

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My Beloved PJs

We call it “getting in the dress code” at home.  It means removing uncomfortable clothes, anything heavy, jeans/spandex, taking off bras and shoes–just getting cozy.  And it is maybe my favorite thing in the whole world.  Being in the dress code recharges my battery.  Without time at home to veg out, I feel tired and stressed.  Going out can be fun, but it’s also taxing.  I like a good trip, an outing, a festivity, but it’s an absolute must that rest time be built around that–or I’m a mess.

As such, I hate days where I’m scheduled to be in multiple places, have to run from obligation to obligation, or those that keep me away from home for too long.  It wears me out.  And those kinds of days require planning.  You have to carry the right clothes and supplies with you, fix portable snacks, plan water so you’ll be near a bathroom when you need it.  It’s a real pain.

Today was like that.  I agreed to tutor again, had a test in class, then had to rush to meet a work friend for a bike ride.  Those events alone would have been enough, but strung together, I was really bummed out.  I wore my workout clothes, though I felt a little self-conscious at school.  I ate a big breakfast and remembered to bring along my thermos of water.  I packed my bike, my coat, my school things, wallet, sports arm wallet, etc, etc. . .  It was busy.

The tutoring went a little better–I took more control of the situation.  I moved us to the place I liked, asked my tutee the way they studied, took tests, etc, taking the focus off myself, and having to prove my worth as a tutor.  Instead of sharing answers or potential test questions, as my subject kept pressing for, I doled out study advice and test-taking tips.  My tutee–a brazen thing–tried to get me to give my old class notes over and “lend”  all my flashcards.  In my head, I was like “No FUCKING way are my materials leaving my site you lazy little shit!”  But aloud I suggested it would be studious in itself to formulate your own materials.  And recommended getting notes from an actual classmate–so they will be exactly the same.  I think since I took the reigns and didn’t let my subject run over the top of me again, things went a little better, and were more helpful.

My tutoring session was cut in half b/c my person scheduled another meeting in the middle and had to leave.  So I was at school with an hour and a half to kill.  I hate that!  Instead of wasting gas and going home, I just took my flashcards and walked the trail studying them.  It was a beautiful day and hot so that wasn’t the worst.  Except I got sweaty before my test.

*pet-peeve:  I can’t stand when I take the time to answer a personal question, sometimes even in writing–and the person I’m communicating with not only doesn’t remember what I said, doesn’t even remember that they should know the answer when they ask all over again.  It’s all I can do not to say–shoulda paid attention the first time.  Annoying.

I took my test, and had some uncertainties–like usual.  We grade them right after taking them, and while we were doing so I became STARVING!  I broke my string of 100% (3 in a row) by missing 3 vowels.  One was dialectual–“bag” sounds like it has a long a to me, but 2 I probably should have known.  I think the hunger and tiredness was at fault.  My concentration and mental abilities were not in top form that late in the day, and after much running around.  Damn.

After class, I of course was motivated to rush to the Y (one of 3 in town) to meet my friend b/c of my lateness phobia.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to bike or have fun if I didn’t eat though.  So despite having only 15 min to get all the way across town to North Y, I stopped at the crowded grocery store for a box of wheat thins.  Protein would have been better, but I had to grab something (quickly) that I could eat while I drove.  And I know right where those are and like them.  Plus, I was in a hurry.  I got there 8 min late–traffic was crap.  And I didn’t see him.  Maybe I was the early one because of traffic?  So I texted the number from the work phone tree 2-3 times, but heard nothing back.  Maybe he was driving and couldn’t text?  I struggled to unload my bike and jumped on it.  The tires felt drastically low–I guess I should have checked that before packing my bike.  Luckily, the bike came with a portable air pump when I bought it at the bike-swap so I went to work on them.  They still felt low, but maybe were better(?) when I jumped back on.  I guessed I could manage a short ride at least.  Except my friend still wasn’t there.  I have no watch and Rusty doesn’t have a clock, so I’m dependant on my FitBit.  Which happened to be on my foot to count my pedals, so it wasn’t that easy to fuss over time.  I just hung out–where usually I’d agonize over every minute ticking by.

Maybe I had an old or wrong phone number and he was somewhere in the parking lot waiting for me?  I rode my bike around looking for his truck.  I still didn’t see him.  Traffic had been pretty ugly and he lives near me, so he also had to go a long way in it, he was probably just caught up.  I looked at the surrounding trail, and figured I’d bike a little ways out, and just come back when he called or after awhile to check.  The trail was dirt and rocky and rugged.  I didn’t want an actual flat, and it felt very perilous like I could fall off at any time due to the slick sand, rocks, grooves, and sudden curves.  This was not the kind of ride I’d had in mind!  I walked my bike back up to the parking lot.

If I wasn’t going to ride while I waited I figured I had might as well study.  As I was sitting in my (hot) car, looking over my notes–it occurred to me maybe we were supposed to meet at the Valley Y, not North that I was at.  I wasn’t certain, but something in the very recesses tugged at my mind.  Did I go to the wrong location?  I doubted myself enough to decide I should go home now (at 5:17PM), because my friend was waiting for me at the other Y, wondering why I had stood him up.  Though I’m not positive that’s what happened.

So I never got to meet my friend and ride, nor could I contact him to find out the misunderstanding.  I drove all the way, and wasted all that time for nothing.  I might have had low blood sugar.  I guess just because I don’t have all the signs, doesn’t mean my mind is super-clear.  And now that I’m home I feel really tired and very fatigued, though I have a ton of things to study, and papers to write.

But at least I’m at home in my jammies 🙂

ugh.

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Onawanapia

Today in Phonetics, we did a 3rd transcription–the horrid middle vowels (+ front and back vowels) which I’m pretty sure I got my 3rd 100% on.  Though it was really difficult to differentiate some of the sounds.  We graded it in class then had time left over so our prof asked if we had questions.  On the test was the word “parcel” with a schwa before the l.  I raised my hand and asked how to tell the difference between schwa + l as in “parcel” vs. the syllabic l as in “bottle.”  I asked which would be in my name.  He has a hearing problem so I had to say my name very loud, several times, then slowly so he knew the proper transcription.  So the class heard me say my name loudly, and slowly 5-6 times.  It’s the schwa–because r-l is too fast without an interceding sound, so you need the schwa vowel between.

We still had time in class so the prof told us to give him some words and he would transcribe them for us.  I said “onawanpia.”  And again because of his hearing loss had to say it louder.  He said it was a great word, and hard, then had me say it slowly.  The gals behind me were repeating “onamanapia.”  Uh-oh.  I realized I have been saying that word wrong, not only today, but my whole life.  Plus, everyone knew my name from before.  So I looked totally ignorant.  And the professor called me out and asked if I wanted him to transcribe it with the –“wana” because he would, and I sheepishly had to tell him to transcribe the proper word.

Doh!

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School Comparison [from early summer 2014]

KS:
-22 hr drive
-cheapest housing
-$12-13/hr jobs-EZ
-different school app & personal stmt
-familiar area
-rival school, weird mascot

 

ID:
-8 hr drive
-cheap housing
-few jobs, $8-10/hr
-best school funding, cheapest tuition
-must split program into Pocatello & Boise (3.5 hr apart)
-Bengal mascot

UT:
-10 hr drive
-cheap housing
-adequate jobs, $12/hr
-near CO, NV, ID, WY easily

Seattle = housing

$450/mo for this + 2 crazy roommates

Oregon = same price as CO

so might as well go to CO if you have to pay anyway

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Food No, MOOD Stamps

“Working the system” is not really a thing anymore.  When you apply for government aid (food stamps/EBT) you are jumping through a lot of hoops.

I think politicians must get bogged down in the details:  you have to work a minimum of 20 hours/wk to qualify, but you can’t make over such-and-such dollar amount.  Who does that leave in between?

If you’re a student they count your current loans for tuition against you as if it’s income, but they don’t count the school loans you’re paying back as an expenditure.  I say if you count one you have to count the other–it’s the same story.

At the federal level, you can’t legally marry or domestically partner with someone same-sex in order to get all the financial benefits “traditional” married couples garner.  BUT you have to count that person in your rent instead of claiming the whole thing.  Which is convenient–for the government.

The process = ridiculous!

You fill out an online quiz, but they never say you don’t qualify there–that would be too easy.  They send you the first (of about a thousand) mailers telling you to come in 4 days later for an “appointment.”  Be careful when you apply because this “appointment” is always a very quick turn-around and if you miss it, it’s a no-go on the stamps.  When you get there, you quickly see the location (the DSHS) is crawling with people.  Unshowered, unhygienic, desperate-looking people all smelling of cigarette smoke and greasy hair.  Suddenly, you feel too clean, too put-together.  You’re sorry you chose freshly washed clothes and even sorrier if something is a known brand.  Known brands, even the crummiest of brands, are a big no no at the DSHS.

You also quickly realize you’d better get in the long line.  Behind the coughing people, the women toting four small, dirty-faced children, and the adults with meth-mouth.  You thought your letter said “appointment” which implies a set time to meet with one person, but everyone else is lined up outside the door.

When you get inside, it’s like a bus stop.  Uncomfortable, worn plastic seats and tired looking employees.  The workers at the DSHS look jaded and worn down.  They have seen it all and they are not going to put up with shenanigans.  You have to touch the computer screen to sign up, and with all this sniffing and coughing, you begin to worry about catching a cold or flu.

Then, the waiting.  It seems there’s no rhyme or reason for who gets called first or where they are called to.  Someone from back behind you in line gets called to window 13, the lady with the 4 kids that was first in line, fills the seats and hollars sporadically for so and so to stop kicking that chair (nevermind the man in it).  Another person gets called to the doors to be led back to the cubicle area.

You notice 2 armed security officers, windows and counters between the public and the employees and wonder about your safety.  When you are finally called, you are grateful to stop waiting, and to get away from ill-people, bad smells, and unruly children.  But soon see this was a false sense of relief–the worker looks accusatory.

They don’t ask to see any of the (many, many) documents your letter requested you bring.  The documents you had to search around for, get signed, jump through hoops to collect.  They never want any of those things.  Even though you brought your lease, they may not ask for it.  They’ll say–how much rent do you pay?  And take your word about the answer.  This last time they asked me, “How much do you think your car is worth?”  Rather then asking for my registration, looking at the blue book value, or tapping into the DMV’s government system.  They will say, where’s proof of this?  And you hadn’t thought of this, nor had your letter requested it.  They print you out more forms–you must have your school sign this (that’s a process that requires a week of time, three steps, and five people) and you must bring some check stubs, a letter from so and so, and this other paper.  You have 4 days.

The process is not standardized at all.  It depends on who you get and how tired/jaded that person is, also how their day is going, and their perceptions of you.  When I had just spent a lot of money moving from Seattle to the opposite side of the state, had to pay first/last/deposit on an apartment, and didn’t have a job yet (ie the time I MOST legitamately needed financial help) I was denied before my paperwork was processed, and I suspect it’s because the lady I got at the DSHS felt like my Roxi capris I wore said $$$$.  But that shouldn’t matter, or cause judgement.  I could have gotten the name-brand jeans at Goodwill, got them as a gift, borrowed them from a friend, or had them for ten years. . .  The clothes someone is wearing does not give an accurate picture of their monetary situation.  While Cool got another gay who saw she was “family” and didn’t ask for any paperwork then hooked her up with the maximum amount.  So it’s not about what your situation is, any max dollars or min hours–it’s all in the employee you get that day.

So this particular time I got caught in several loops.  I’m a student, so they want to see my loans, but not the undergrad loans I pay back.  Because I am a part-time student in a non-degree program they couldn’t count the loans though–much to their dismay.  BUT you have to work 20 hours a week or have work study to qualify.  Because unemployed people with zero income need food stamps least of all?  So I didn’t make ENOUGH money to get the stamps, weirdly enough.  But I took the work study paperwork, thinking that there was a slight chance my tutoring may count. . .

But the paper required me to sign up for the tutoring gal, complete the government forms at HR, go back to the tutoring gal and have her sign off the hours, make an appointment with my financial aid advisor who informed me work study money was depleted long ago, then she had to fax my form to someone and call DSHS (the work study application is good enough), then I had to take the signed form baaaack to the DSHS and wait a second time.  Lots of time and hooping jumping.

I was invested.

I got a youngish dude so I felt hopeful.  The men are always a little friendlier than the crabby old women employees for whatever reason.  He read my work study hours aloud “5-10 per week.”  Then he asked another lady what the work study code was.  When I saw her I knew my chances of qualifying for food stamps were gone.  She looked as if she had worked there for the last 30 years, and especially tired and jaded.  She told him they would need to see my financial aid letter (my incoming student loans) which would immediately disqualify me.  And when she left, he said he had done a work study before and knew they required a minimum of 16 hours/wk.  Which no one had told me.  And my tutoring employer hadn’t known what amount of hours to put so she randomly said 5-10.  So that’s a pain, I could have told her right in the beginning or not bothered around with it at all, if my first DSHA lady had informed me of the complete criteria (16 hours/week),  So Juan said he had to deny me, too bad it didn’t say 16. . .

And that sucked just because of all the time I had now wasted being for nothing.  And I knew Juan had wanted to hook me up with EBT, because he had already seen those hours, but I knew he wasn’t able to because he involved that lady who had seen my paper, and was probably some superior to him.  So she ruined everything!  I wish the internet had told me of the work hours criteria so I wouldn’t have wasted any time at all with their stupid process!

Later that day I had a voicemail:  Juan said he thought I had dependants, which would require 16 hours of work study, but I’m only applying for myself so that weekly hour amount doesn’t apply to me.  So I do indeed qualify for the max amount of food stamps.

But that makes no sense because they primarily try to give people with children the aid most of all.  So a mom would probably have less restrictions and get more food stamps, then me.  It makes sense to me that Juan was going to give me EBT, but then he couldn’t in front of that lady–so he waited until she was gone and hooked me up later.

Juan hooked me up!  When I go through the list of things I’m thankful for every night before sleep, he is often featured for his compassion and generosity–and for tweaking the rules.

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My last Day of Veterinary Assisting

Hopefully my last day ever.  I guess hopefully.  I would like to move forward and not have to go back to it only out of desperation.  But I guess I don’t know what the future holds.  My anticipated last day of my life in the veterinary field was. . .  Anticlimactic.  Which perfectly sums up the 19 years I spent working in the field, honestly.  I didn’t want a fuss.  I didn’t make a big deal during my last 2 weeks of work.  Didn’t tell any clients I was leaving–I didn’t want to be THAT person.  This was my decision and I didn’t want people to feel obligated to say things they didn’t genuinely think to say on their own accord.  But I wanted???  Something.  At least a goodbye or a good job or–I don’t know, not a big party or drama or phoniness–but. . .  Something.

I honestly don’t know how I feel about my last day, former life, veterinary assisting.  When I was giving my resignation I thought I would feel excited.  I’m not, really.  I put pictures up on Facebook, thinking it would make me feel nostalgic.  But it actually made me feel kind of icky.  I didn’t have very many pictures of me working, or even work at all from the last 19 years.  I always had the mentality that there was not even 2 minutes for pictures at work, because I had to BE working every second I was there.  So that was disappointing.  Posting the pictures also made me feel–icky.  There were a lot of Mary, and being reminded of her cheating, horribleness, mid-life crises, and the way she treated me hurt.  The pictures just reminded me of burned bridges, thankless jobs, and made my whole 19 years seem more negative than positive.  Which I hope is not the case–but I guess almost half of those years WERE more negative then positive.  And I thought I would feel relief today.  But really, I felt nothing.  I wasn’t sad/happy, bitter/sentimental, nervous/excited.  Just blank.

I knew they wouldn’t do anything nice for me.  So I made my own nice last day and sent myself flowers.  When I ordered the bouquet I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t feel TERRIBLE that nobody got me a card or a gift or said last goodbyes (I knew they wouldn’t).  So I sent myself flowers, clearly labeled to me, from me.  It wasn’t a sneaky–ohhh I’ll send myself flowers and play it off like someone else sent them.  I was OK with me doing something special for me.  And maybe I wanted to shame them (just a little) for neglecting such an important, mile-stone day.  Except when the flowers actually arrived at work, I guess I lost my nerve and got a little embarrassed about it.  Suddenly I felt like a lame-ass sending myself roses on Valentine’s Day or something.  So when my coworker guessed they were from Cool I just said they were.  Lame.

But I’m glad I did send the flowers, because sure enough, in the morning, there was no card, no cake, no gift.  Certainly no balloons wishing me well or thanking me for my service, or congratulating me on a job well done or on my future endeavors.  None of that.  My boss mentioned my last day, just an acknowledgement (which IS better than the nothing I got from EVERYbody else at work), a couple times throughout the day, but never made a big deal, indicated she’d/they’d miss me, or said anything thoughtful about it.  But that’s veterinary for you.

There’s such a high turnover rate, such a high burn-out rate, that when people come and go it’s just business as usual to the hospital and those still working there.  Veterinary staff are truly just bodies–fairly easy to replace.  So vets expect people to leave–they quickly turn to finding the next person, covering the shifts–logistics.  It’s just the practical thing I guess.  It’s been much the same everywhere I’ve worked–and for everyone leaving.  There was not only no fuss, but hardly a mention, when I wrapped up my seasonal horse position, moved from Missouri, finished the summer at emergency, or went across the state from Seattle.  And there wasn’t any during my last morning ever as an assistant.

Nor at lunch.  But at 3PM(?) when the flowers came, my boss said, “I’ve had something in my car for you.”  And I’m a suspicious person so I wondered if she HAD specially picked something just for me for this day, or if it was random groceries that happened to be in the car or a gift from someone else still in there, or a gift intended for someone else.  But who knows?  Maybe she HAD specifically gotten something with me in mind and HAD already intended on presenting it at the end of the day.  And it was champagne.  Which she had no idea I can’t drink.  They don’t know enough about my life to realize I’ve given up alcohol completely.  There was no card either.  Which made me more suspicious it just happened to be in there already and when flowers came she felt guilty for being jerks and neglecting my important occasion.  But maybe she brought it just for me and just didn’t put a card–or mention it until my flowers arrived.  I guess I’ll never know, and it doesn’t matter anyway.

We had to stay late.  And it was snowing a lot all day.  Everyone was eager to leave.  And without pomp & circumstance, they did.  No goodbyes or final words, just leaving like a normal day–like every other normal day.  To them, tomorrow’s just another day and someone else will be there instead of me–no big deal.  I just remembered I had instructions from Cool to walk out that door the last time of being a tech, and take a deep breath.  Let go of the old and embrace my new direction.  I forgot.  I also hurried to my car and started scraping snow off my windows to get ready for a slick and snowy commute home.  I guess veterinary medicine is a part of me too.  It was just another day leaving work.

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Maine Coon for Brains

Poor little Choco-Luv is cold.  We don’t use the (fire-hazzard) baseboard heaters in the apartment, but we have space heaters in the living room and in the bedroom.  They’re nicer because you can set them on a threshold, heat just the room you are in, and if they get knocked over, they automatically turn off.  It keeps utilities down, and makes me feel safer.  And we supplement with electric throw blankets, goose-down comforter, and infrared light in the bathroom.

But Choco-Luv is much less active because she is glued to the heating blankets.  So to help her we bought a pink puffy jacket.  It’s absolutely adorable.  She HATES it.  We put it on her and she became half a milimeter tall and wiggled out of it.  So we have kept it out, put it on her during naps, petted her with it.  Just tried to get her used to it–to little avail.

Today, while I was outling my textbook, Cool put the jacket on her and tried snuggling and petting her.  She had angry tail, and sad meows.  She also sort of stalked around the kitchen in the jacket, with Cool following.  Goose, was on the other side of the wall, and looked alarmed.  He saw some pink creature walking funny in HIS apartment, and peeked around the corner to look at it.  His eyes grew wide, and as she ran away (from the jacket) he chased (the moster).

Chco-Luv now had 2 problems:  A horrible outfit on her back.  A brother who didn’t recognize her and wanted to kill!  She hid behind the couch and he sat in the center of the living room staring toward “the pink monster.”  Goose started looking uncharacteristically puffy and like he was about to either aggress or defend.  He didn’t look as mean as the time he bared teeth at Cool (she scared him) but I’ve never seen him get so big!  I was worried we might have an actual-fight on our hands, and I’d have to take one or both to work for abscess repair(s).

Choco-Luv finally shed the jacket and ran toward her brother (for play/grooming) as she often does.  He looked like he might give her the teeth & claw and she veered around him at the last minute, running to the bedroom.  He chased after her (NOT in the usual playful way, then realized the monster was gone.  He stopped being in fight-mode, but still watched her with much suspicion, thinking she was some sort of shape-shifter.  As she relaxed and became less stressed and normal again, he stayed across the room eyeing her.  I could tell he was stressed and scared and pretty certain she would turn into the strange monster and get him.  

We had to coax both kitties to come into the same vicinity, and when they did, Goose sniffed Choco-Luv thouroughly, trying to identify her.  When she smelled eight, he circled the apartment sniffing and looking for the stranger who had just been here moments before.  It’s been about 30 minutes and just now are the two of them bent back INTO shape!  Silly kitties.

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