A change of plans (like always)

by Zoeyjane

Last week, I was everywhere but here, like:

  • helping Zoë start to create a vision board;
  • sitting breathlessly, while Zoë read her first, unassisted book;
  • in the shower, within a period of time comparable to a normal person;
  • having morning coffee dates with a friend; and,
  • responding to literally thousands of emails. Gah.

MamaPop

EverythingMom

And getting my wits together to act as February’s Guest Contributor at

Come, visit me. You know I miss you, right?

***

A few days ago, I got a phone call that caused blood to boil and silent, terse facial expressions. There’s a back-story, of course:

In 2000, I signed up for a career program at a private, accredited college on the agreement that I could work at my own pace. This, apparently, meant that I could work slower than the course’s usual pace – not faster – and upon being told that I was not being fair to the rest of my classmates by working ahead, and coupled with an impending breakdown, I dropped out.

I was only enrolled for three weeks – just long enough to get approved for a government student loan, but not long enough to actually get the paperwork to cash the damn thing, pay my rent, and avoid spending a year on my father’s couch garnering glares and insults.

In 2004, I was contacted by the loan people, asking for payment. I made it perfectly fucking clear that I had never cashed the loan and their response was to make it perfectly fucking clear that it didn’t matter. Because I hadn’t returned to paperwork to them, and officially declared the loan as unusable and uncashed, they considered it payable.

So, I did the mature thing, mentally told them to take a flying leap and promptly denied such a loan existed.

There’s the loop-hole for people considered in default of their student loans: the loan people’re not legally allowed to demand payment a decade after the time that the loan became payable. I do my due diligence before I enter denial, you know.

This loophole is exactly why the loans people decided to call me the other day, demanding payment or else they would seize my property (ha! I don’t have any), garnish my wages (coming up empty there, too, asshats), or take me to court in order to request a bench warrant, garnishment of any government funding I receive and so on. The decade expires in December, you see.

They put the fear of jail into me, even though the fear of poverty is a much more realistic one.

So, it looks like I won’t get to buy myself a gym membership in a week, like I planned. And I won’t get to go to New Orleans in April, like I planned. And I won’t get to go to San Diego in the summer, like planned. Also? I might not be able to afford to go to school, like I planned – at least, not more than a class at a time, registered for at the last minute, as soon as the cheques have all cleared in my bank accounts and a month’s worth of instant ramen has been procured.

This? Blows. This? Is one of the rare times when I’ve been angry with how the government has directly affected me. This? Will take all of my discretionary income for the year, and the next two as well.

This? Ultimately means that my ‘loan’ will be paid off within three years, and that afterward, I may qualify for student loans again. This? Means that the potential of grad school doesn’t seem like an impossible dream. In at least five years.

***

In other news, I just, moments ago, found out that the writing program I’m interested in taking can be started anytime, taken one course at a time (some classes are even available purely online) and even though application to the program has closed for the 2011 year. This is HUGE and AWESOME. If I can afford the courses, that is.

***

In additional other news: I’m fairly decided that upon finishing the writing program (it’s actually a certificate in editing, with a elective-focus on web- and copy-writing), I’ll either be entering the Certified General Accountants’ program or finishing my Psychology degree. Because I want to do things the hard, long way, it appears.

If taken through a college or university (or a combination of online, distance and in-class courses), the CGA program can often be done on a part-time basis, and has a wealth of subsidies, bursaries and scholarships available to its students. Even some specifically targeting single moms, people with mental illness and those in extreme financial need.

I’m a financial-award triple threat, on paper.

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