It’s Starting to Look A Lot Like Graduate School


Despite the curt, not too pleasant, and dare I say, preachy e-mail I received today from the financial aid department in regards to the inquiry I sent out yesterday.

I got your point lady.

You could perhaps not be so rude.

But then, what is that?

Me, being the director.

Me, wanting things my way.

Me, me, me.

It’s all about me.

How funny that I am going to get a Masters in Psychology so that I can become an MFT and help others.

Or not funny.

The only way through, I feel, so often, is by helping others.

I popped a resentment when I read the e-mail which basically set me straight with no shortness of sharpness, again, I remind myself, no need to shoot the messenger, restraint of pen and tongue and e-mail.

I restrained myself.

Instead I did a quick spot check inventory and made some calls and when I heard myself checking in with a friend over the phone while I was out with the boys at the park kicking around a bunch of soccer balls on the courts at Mission Playground, I heard it.

I was whining.

It wasn’t blatant, but I could hear it in the playback of the conversation, we were cut off and I’m actually rather glad I didn’t continue to hold my friend hostage to my whiny pants.

I got right with God instead.

I did the rest of the work and I called a bunch of ladies and asked how they were doing and I listened and, why yes, my perspective changed.

How very nice it is.

To take contrary action.

That the solution is not focusing on my problem, but helping someone else.

Duh.

I do have to ask for help too, it seems, despite wanting desperately to not have to rely on others, I do have to get help.

And apparently I have to get professional help.

Yikes.

I sort of recalled that being a requirement of the course, and of course, it makes sense, doesn’t it?

If I want to be a good therapist, I should go to therapy.

I have to accrue 50 sessions of therapy.

I am not cognizant if I have to do this on my own dime or if it’s part of the tuition package.

It is, however, a requirement.

I found the document when I was printing out my syllabi for school today on the printer at work.

I joked with my employer that I may have to forgo the extra money for the hour of overtime I have worked this week to pay for the paper.

But.

Honestly.

It was a relief to have made some forward movement.

I can see that I need to continue to take further action, there’s always going to be an action to take, just the ordering of the books, getting the syllabi, the interaction with the financial aid department, the humbling of myself to ask for more help, the acknowledgement of the lack in my upbringing when it comes to things of this nature.

Hell.

I’ve been in school already and it’s not even started.

I’ve learned a shocking amount about myself, my fears, my desires, my hopes and how to continually let go of shame and reach out when help is offered and accept it gratefully.

Not always gracefully.

But gratefully, yes.

I, of course, did not print out all of the syllabi, I realized later as I sat in The Church Street Cafe before heading over to Our Lady of Safeway at 7:15p.m.

I had missed two of them.

However, the printing of them and seeing them in front of me and opening up my laptop, I took it to work today, was all the action that I needed to get started.

I booted up Amazon and I started plugging in the books in the search engine.

I bought all used.

I bought 7 total.

Cost?

$171.21

Not too bad.

I paid it out of my own pocket instead of stressing about getting down to the financial aid office and asking for a book voucher to buy them.

I still need to acquire the readers for all my courses.

Every course has an additional reader included in the materials.

I am going to head down to Copy Central on Saturday and get the class readers and get going on the reading.

I also forwarded the Master Promissory note signature and paperwork to the financial aid department, nicely, oh so nicely worded that e-mail was, burn ’em with kindness.

I suspect one day I’m going to go into the financial aid office and have myself a good chuckle when I meet the woman I’ve been interacting with the last couple of days.

I am certain she is harmless and frankly I cannot imagine a more thankless job than being an administrative assistant in a financial aid office at a college.

I am certainly no the only loony student who has cornered her on the phone or via e-mail I am sure.

I can’t think of a worse job, maybe meter maid.

Anyway.

Things they move a pace and it’s nice to see it coming together.

And I may still get to go camping next week.

I had thought I would be leaving for the Grand Canyon on a long road trip on Saturday, but as it turns out, the family I work for had a change of plans and won’t be leaving for their vacation to Lake Tahoe until Tuesday.

My friend asked if I could play hooky on Friday.

God, don’t I wish.

I can’t call in sick though, or ask for a private day off.

I haven’t any more sick days and my vacation days are all lined up.

One week for the retreat for school.

One week for the “retreat” out in the desert in the High Black Rock Desert.

It’s a spiritual event.

Please.

Ahem.

It is.

Stop.

Instead of viewing the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, I’ll be visiting Mission and 2nd Street to pick up my course readers and getting a jump on the reading.

Fingers crossed all my books for the courses come in by the retreat.

I realized that because I choose regular shipping I’m going to be cutting it close.

But.

I’m ok.

The books are ordered, the course readers exist and I know where to get them–thank God the copy store is open on the weekend, and I have an idea of what action to do next.

I’m going to school, yo.

This is really happening.

I’ll probably keep saying that until I’m in my second semester, just FYI.

Ha.

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