what is this 'relaxation' thing you speak of?

The past week has been a blur of academic shit. I've been preparing for the GED (the real one, not the practice nonsense I've been forced into for the last year), trying to get the state to pay for my schooling, and attempting to fill out loan applications that will inevitably be turned down.

Last week, I had an appointment with Vocational Rehab which assists people who have disabilities or are recovering drug addicts to get jobs, or else go to school to get decent jobs. I tried to apply for it a couple of years ago, but I didn't have enough college credit or something for them to be able to help me. Apparently my caseworker was impressed because my file has been open for all this time and I was called in for a second interview. Being two years older and possibly healthier than the last time I was there, my caseworker seemed even more impressed. I think it was because I actually talked. The point of the appointment, basically, was to keep my case open. It's required that I apply for Pell Grants, even though I'll be turned down. They need proof that I can't get assistance.

This also depends on my family's income, which is rather higher than what the maximum amount in order to qualify, but the amount spent on medication, doctor's appointments, and (I think) insurance is deducted. This is good because it's where half our damn income goes to. Also, if I can get SSI, I'll have my own income and that would mean it doesn't matter what my family makes. It'd be peachy to get SSI so that I could help pay for medicine and maybe buy some new clothes or something, and quite possibly pay my own phone bill, and it'd be certain that I'd get state assistance for schooling because the maximum I'd probably make is $6,000 a year.

We've also been searching for the 2005 tax stuff, which somehow managed to hide itself under a bunch of crap. I need this to apply for loans that will not be granted to me. *sour face* This is all very inconvenient. When we found the loans I did a happy dance, but the people at FAFSA like to make life difficult. I needed a PIN number, which I had but couldn't remember, and if I did remember it wouldn't matter because it was expired. Thus, I was made to apply for a new one and had to wait three days for them to email it to me. I got it today, but it didn't matter because I was busy GED-ing.

Waking up at 7 am is a pain in my ass. Actually, it's the fact that I had to be somewhere an hour later that's the real pain. It's not rare for me to wake up at 7 in the morning, but I usually have a few hours to become fully coherent. Today, however, I woke up at this ungodly time, ate breakfast faster than I thought possible, slipped on some clothes, and was out the door by about 7:40. Fifteen minutes later, I walked into Louisiana Technical College's Adult Education wing and waited for the door to the testing room to open. I'd worn a jacket and real shoes, even though it was hot outside, because the testing room is unbearably frigid. We were made to put our personal belongings in the back of the room and told that if our cell phone went off, we would be escorted to jail. O_O The instructions were issued, and this took an entire hour, so long that the test administrator let us have a break. Everyone ran outside to suck down a cigarette. Apparently taking up smoking is a requirement for dropping out of high school.

I ran into a few people that I'd gone to school with. Some, like myself, just didn't like high school, some had been homeschooled, and one girl was a half a credit short of graduating, but didn't feel like staying another semester to earn it. Understandable, of course. Since the instructions had taken so long, I wondered aloud whether or not the test administrator thought we were unable to read. The group I'd wandered into laughed, because it was ridiculously true. It's in the form of a standardized test, so there are those stupid fucking bubbles that have to be filled out, along with actually writing down the letters to one's name. She insisted we use something with a straight edge, like our ID cards, to keep everything in line. Lady, we're high school drop-outs, not preschoolers. Apparently it was important to spell our names correctly. Really? Man, I thought it was cool to spell my name K-A-Y-T-I-E or something. There were codes we had to put on the forms, and we were made to put our fingers on the codes to make sure we remembered them.

This was amusing. The first test was writing, including the essay and grammar and such. We were given two hours, and I finished 45 minutes early. I went outside and talked more. Social Studies ended our day, and we all left the confines of the Arctic classroom as soon as we were finished. Tomorrow is science, reading, and math. And then I wait a month for my results. And then I take a national ACT so I can get the fuck out of BPCC.

I went to therapy today for the first time in a month or so because I wanted to. I was also extremely snippy. Hormones rock, don't they? I have a doctor's appointment with my GP on August 3rd, who will probably refer me to an OB/GYN. Oy.

My warm comfy bed is calling. I'm out.