Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Oh. My. Gosh.

What a day.

Let's start at the beginning, my dear readers, shall we?

School started today.  I was so nervous, but also incredibly excited.  My first class went off without a hitch; English is promising to be a great class.  The instructor is young, enthused, and full of ideas.  I'm completely pumped.  Also, there's a guy from my History class there - no, not the one with braces  - who sat next to me.  He seems nice.  It makes it seem less scary knowing one person, even if it's just by face at first.

So that was good.

My next class, Psychology, was also good.  The instructor is a therapist as well as an instructor.  It shows.  She's already made me squirm.  And I realize that this class is going to make me look at things deeper than I anticipated.  It's going to be incredibly interesting.  The nice thing is that it's just down the hall from my English class - no stress about changing classes.  I like that.

At this point I have an hour and forty-five minutes before my last class for today.  During this time, I anticipate swapping my book at the bookstore.

You see, the bookstore sold me the wrong book for my Speech class.  This is the second semester in a row that they've done that.  This time, though, I was smart; I kept my receipt.  My thinking was that they would let me trade the book for the one that I needed, and have me make up the price difference.  I could do that with the money left from my loan.

Instead, I was told that I could not change the book out.  I had to sell the one back for a full refund on my loan, which won't go into effect for like a week.  Then I had to buy the new book - the one that they should've given me in the first place.

So I sold the one back, then went outside and called my mom.  Several phone calls later and one container of mushy mac-and-cheese later: a solution is reached and I'm in tears.  It was not fun.  Thankfully my mom was so fantastic about the whole thing.  She helped me calm down; she also did some research to find out if the bookstore had the book in stock.  They did.  We came up with the plan that my dad would come and help me pay for it.

I was able to go to Speech class in a huff of relief.  The class was great as well.  The instructor cracked most of the class up multiple times; I feel a lot better about giving speeches.  The work load this semester is going to be ok.  I can feel it.

(I would like it to be known that the boy with braces appears to start his school day the same time I do - I saw him in the hall - and appears to have the same break I do - again, I saw him.  I'm not hoping for much, but seeing as I have no one to hang with between classes and it appears he doesn't either, maybe - MAYBE - I can have someone to sit with.  The plan is that I'm going to take a book and sit where I normally sit before class.  If he comes over, eventually, we'll talk.  Or, I'll actually finish my current book.  It's a win-win plan, I think...)

I get home, I grab my sister, and we go get my dad.  At the bookstore, I find the book I need and take it to the check out.  I tell them I want to pay with my aid. 

And that's when I get told that I have no more financial aid available.


I just finished checking my one account, and I should have about fifty or more dollars in financial aid.  So I get to go spend tomorrow finding out what happened.  Not how I wanted to spend my day.  I mean, I have homework.  This semester should've gone off without a hitch.  Blah.

My dad was cool about it, though.  He bought my book.  Now I can get caught up in the reading. 

Well, on the bright side, it was a really nice day today.  I ate outside, which was kind of nice after the winter stuff.  I saw braces boy in the hall twice, giving me hope that maybe I'll see him again.  My instructors are all friendly and enthusiastic.  The classes are going to be good.  And hey, it can only go up from here. 

Tomorrow is going to be good. 

Thursday is going to be good.

That's what I love about life: there's always a chance for a better day. 

Until next time, guys.


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