You are currently browsing the monthly archive for August 2006.
it should be noted that shortly after this I dropped out of college with only 14 credit hours to go…I am yet to return…but I will!
I realize that major educational institutions, such as ASU are riddled with red tape, and hoops on fire for jumping and what have you.
My re-entry into school has been filled with them.
When I intially decided to finish my degree I was under the impression that I had 14 credit hours or so to go. I made an appointment with my advisor. I was told that I had to reapply because I had been out for year.
“no problem” I thought
I filled out the app, using my married name of Moore, citing on the form that ASU would most likely know me as Brice-Heames (my maiden name). I paid the $25.
I waited.
I called a week before school started and was told that readmittance had a backlog and I wouldn’t be admitted until just before the first day of school…but that I had this fee and could I pay it?
“no problem” I thought. gritting my teeth. (The fee is a whole other story. It’s the mystery fee. for another time)
I paid the fee. I verified my address. I waited.
I recieved a letter and a certificate in the mail. CONGRATULATIONS! it said. congratulations Megan Brice-Heames incoming Freshman.
I stared at the letter. Freshman? How odd. I was under the impression that after 5 years at a school taking actual classes that I would be considered slightly higher in rank than a freshman.
But what do I know? I assumed it was a mistake.
The first day of classes I went to my advisors office. “I have to find out what classes I still need” I said. I didn’t even mention the freshman thing.
20 credit hours I was told.
what now?
Not only does my new advisor want to REMOVE credits that are ALREADY ON my transcripts, but she wants to require me to take a class that I am not, in fact, required to take.
WHAT NOW?!?!
I sighed heavily. I told my new advisor that I really and truley believed that she couldn’t just, you know, take creadits away from me. She said she’d look it up. I told her not to bother. I would register for classes just as soon as she ok’d me to register.
But you see, said my new advisor, I can’t find your file.
I imagine that at that point I looked like I was going to murder her so she hurriedly assured me that it was no problem and she ok’d me to register. She told me if she couldn’t find my file she’d give me a call.
“no problem” I said.
I went to the very crowded computing commons to register posthaste for classes. But it wouldn’t let me log on to the computers. I went to the front desk. “Oh yeah” they said “you can’t get online here to register for classes or pay tuition until you register for classes and pay tuition. It’s, like a loophole”
not like a loophole you idiot. AN ACTUAL LOOPHOLE.
“no problem” I said, very quietly.
I decided to go to the financial aid office to verify that my FAFSA was all squared away and that the government would be paying for this debacle.
I stood in line for about 20 minutes. I texted with Mollie and Brian. I got to my lady. “Hello,” I said. “I need to take care of any financial aid snafus or anything”
Can I get your social security number?
“no problem” I said brightly
After a few minutes of asking me my name, verifying my name, asking my school ID, verifying my school ID, the woman asks me to wait.
“no problem? I hope.” I said
I’ll be back.
SO I waited.
After 15 minutes the woman returned. ASU has the wrong social securtity number on file for me.
I sighed. Are you serious?
yep off by one little number, but we can’t verify your financial aid until they verify your correct social.
awesome.
“no problem” I went downstairs to the Registrars office.
I told the woman behind the desk that ASU had f’ed up my social security number and did I REALLY need to bring in my Social Security card?
yep. sorry. and fill out this form.
“no problem” I said. But while I’m down here, can you let me know why I’m listed as a freshman, here on this, my certificate of admission?
SURE! they said brightly. What’s your ID number.
I rattled it off.
Well here’s the problem.
Finally! a quick answer!
What school did you transfer from?
what?
What schoo lare you coming from?
None. Here. I’ve been at this hell hole for 5 godforsaken years. I didn’t transfer I re-applied.
Hang on.
“problem. PROBLEM!” I said semi-hysterically.
Turns out they couldn’t find my transcripts. Not the official ones. THey said, take the social security change request form, go home, we’ll call you.
I said. I’m going to the FAC. Find my transcripts. I don’t care if you’re closing soon. DO. IT.
I got a call 30 minutes later.
SORRY! we found your transcripts. You’re really a senior!
no kidding.
The next day I went to the financial aid office. “Hi” I said “here’s my correct social, they have it all squared away downstairs”
Great! they told me. “We’ll call you when your status changes, we’re really sorry about the mistake”
“no problem” I said.
So I waited. I got my first bill for tuiton. A rather hefty sum of money. Luckily I have money from my grandmother so I can pay this fee.
I wait. I do my homework for classes I’m not fully registered for yet.
I go online this morning and lo and behold: my status has changed.
and whaddya know? No one called me.
I have to track down my 1040 and turn it into the office.
a “random” selection of students have to be verified.
of course. OF COURSE. I was picked.
“no problem” I sighed.
After you bring in your 1040? It will be 3 weeks before we disburse to you.
awesome. of course it will.
I will use my grandmother’s money to pay the first installment of tuition. Hopefully it doesn’t actually take 3 weeks for them to give me the money that I have now spent days trying to obtain…days that ASU actually created for me!
When I finally get my degree I am having it framed. I spent WAY to much time trying to get it.
and p.s. I’m not taking her stupid required course.
Today, boys and girls, were going to talk about anxiety. And more specifically the incessant, irritating, anxiety that Meg experiences on a daily basis! Its the best brand!
These days, I find myself becoming more and more the person I was in March. I realize its my ridiculous mental illness rearing its ugly head. I also realize that my therapist put me on medication for a reason and possibly taking myself off of it was perhaps not the brightest idea I’ve ever had. Especially now. I can’t quantify exactly what it is that has triggered me in the last couple of days but something has.
And I do not do well in stressful situations.
Scratch that.
If the stressful situations do not affect me directly, or if they affect me in a super positive way or if they don’t involve me confronting someone or involve me changing my routine, I do AWESOME in stressful situations.
I switch to practical, adventurous Meg mode. The facet of myself that I love and adore and really would love to be all the time but find that I can’t always be her.
So as I begin to revert to crazy Meg I will try and do what all this therapy has been endeavouring to teach me over the last several years.
I will try and identify my triggers
I will identify my negative behavior responses
I will do my relaxation and focusing techniques
I will do my yoga breathing
I will write as much as possible
But soon (oh very soon now) I will begin what I call “Classic Meg Self Destruction!” (always spelled with an exclaimation point – because, children, exclaimation points sell!)
Soon
I will begin thinking of everything that is going wrong in my life
I will begin thinking of everything that COULD POSSIBLY go wrong in my life..this causes me to:
hyperventilate instead of breathing like a normal human being.
Then, I will begin to snap at everyone I know because I feel like if I get mad at them first they can’t get mad at me.
This will lead me to:
begin staying home because then I won’t have to see people and snap at them. You know, ever.
Then
I will take a lot of naps
And
I will not answer my phone
And
I will exhibit all the normal signs of depression but will deny loudly that I am depressed and subsequently become super anxious over exhibiting visible signs of depression…
leading to:
developing this really annoying nervous laugh.
oh yes and I will not so much cry as weep constantly over nothing
I will become an all around lousy human being to be with.
So I’m attempting to head this off at the pass, and I’m letting you, all of my friends and a chunk of my family, know:
I feel like my anxiety issues are becoming a force I am going to have trouble dealing with and I’m sorry.
I will do my level best to keep from breaking down. I will do my level best to stay off the drugs (quick side note: Celexa killed my appetite. I never ate, and consequently dropped to 120 pounds. Boo.) because the drugs were only supposed to be a stepping stone into wellness for me.
And before I disappear again, I will ask you for help.
I’ll be that annoying friend or sister or daughter who just needs to be around people all the time even if she doesn’t talk because being around people is keeping her from losing her mind. Again.
and, boys and girls, once is quite enough.
Last night I sat in the dark trying to describe to a dear friend what it was like to lose my mind.
(He was very sympathetic, one of the things I love about him is his uncanny ability to appear as though everything the other person is saying is fascinating)
I sat there, in the dark, in the lovely weather and I stared at the sky.
I struggled, like I always do when trying to convey the feelings of that period of my life, I struggled to capture what it was like.
And my mind got louder and fuzzier, like it does, it raced trying to beat my mouth, I felt my stutter coming back. I tried desperately to slow my words so I could catch the chaos of my mind.
My mind is often noisy, always chaotic. I am frequently fuzzed out around my edges, trying to express what it is like in there
I settled on describing to him the auditory hallucinations that made frequent appearances in March, I told him about the whispering from razors that they used to torture me with
I fought through the chaos of my mind to convey to him what its like to have a nervous breakdown.
and I realized that when I was at my craziest, my mind was sharper than it has ever been in my entire life
I was just terrified of what it was telling me.
1 Disparateness
Leaving you
I’ve found
rounds me out more
than staying
and screaming till I’m hollow
enough
to be refilled
2 w/e
This circling
is.
a rupture of self and
I
am becoming an ”us” again
and
it
puts me off
balance.
However comforted.
3 Flame
I used to shatter like spent cigarettes on the pavement at your sparkler smile.
Now I just enjoy the burn.
#4
Your face
and
the sea
catch my throat-
intersect in the
space
between my heartbeats
rendering me. sending me spinning.
contemplating
the curve of your mouth
on mine
(not that I’ve fallen into that valley before)…
yet?)
and sometimes…
I spend sometimes studying your eyes (given to pinning me down) or your hands (but not here) or
That
which makes up what it is about you
intoxicating and
That
you know…
or maybe you don’t
that.
That. It. Yourself.
…but you see more than craving
the taste of that curved mouth-that fierce gaze-that, more than
That.-
it is the curiosity
That
kills me.
The wondering
wandering
heart of me.
an hour ago my mother handed me a piece of paper.
On it, in a familiar hand, that I hadn’t seen in a while was a prayer in Spanish.
It was the prayer my Nana said over me the day I turned 15.
I grew up in a household divided. My mother being fiercely Mexican and my father looking so very white. I inherited my fathers skin tone and my mothers eyes. I learned how to make tortillas and menudo when I was 10. I understood Spanish from childhood. My mothers cousins children called my “El Casper”…
When I was 14 my parents asked if I wanted to have a Quinceanera. I decided that it was something I wanted and we planned a day that mixed Mexican tradition with my feminist upbringing. My grandmother and my Nana said prayers over me both invoking the Virgin. It was a great party. 
4 years ago my Nana had a severe stroke that left her unable to communicate, unable to write, it limited her movement and she wasn’t able to stay by herself. Every Firday night (when I wasn’t doing a show) for 3 years from 5:30 until 9:30 I was at her house, making her dinner talking with her in her limited vocabulary, watching romantic comedies with her.
She died in April. I was in her kitchen. She looked at the statue of La Virgen as she stopped breathing.
I sat here this afternoon weeping as I read the prayer that she wrote for me. A prayer about family and faith. She ended it the way Catholics have done for centuries “en el nombre del padre, del hijo y del espiritu santo…” but then she took my face in her hands and said “y que la virgen maria te acompane siempre…Amen”
I don’t miss being a Catholic. I miss my Nana so tangibly that it is hard to breathe sometimes. But today something transcended those feelings….
I wish I had words for it. But it’s been a bit of a mixed bag today. I’ll let you know when I figure it out…
