Well, I called the final college yesterday to see what was up with the missing financial aid package. Apparently, they missed the fact that all my college coursework is on my high school transcript and were waiting for me to intuit that they expected me to get a college transcript sent to them. A truly excellent plan that did nothing to improve my impression of this particular college as being on the lower end of the academic scale. Anyway, my admission counselor pushed it through and got back to me today (normally it takes two weeks so that was cool). The bottom line? Four years = $50000 debt before interest. Again, I got all the academic scholarship money they could throw at me, yet it wasn't enough to make it really feasible. Which means . . . I'm staying here. I'm staying. Here. 4.2 GPA, 1440 SAT, Valedictorian, half my G.E. done already, all the shiny extracurriculars, and I am living at home after graduation to go to a Junior College just like any other loser. I never wanted this. I always told everyone that this place is like a black hole after graduation because that's what I saw. If you don't leave, you live with your parents and smoke weed and can never escape. Yet, strangely, I feel ok. I know part of this ok feeling is because I don't see my old friends from school anymore so it won't be like Me: Where are you going? Eliz: Perdue (sp?) Jamie: UCLA Katie: University of the Pacific. You? Me: The uh . . . the J.C. But I also am not crushed because it's not a bad deal. If I take five more classes I can transfer to a UC with all my lower division work done. It would be easy enough to transfer as early as the Spring. A part of me doesn't appreciate the thought of being a motel housekeeper for an extra six months, but the other part of me knows that it would be hard to find a job that pays as much as I make right now. Plus, I'm doing office work now, too. Anyway, enough of that boring stuff. Come to think of it, the rest of my day was pretty boring stuff, too. My brother mooned me. I squirted him with my squirt gun. He mooned me. I squirted him. He ran into my room and locked the door. I popped the door open with a butter knife and squirted him. And so forth. |