You Infected Me, Took Diamonds, I Took All Your Shit

Met with a person higher up on the food chain today to see what was to be done about the money issue. The department had magically concocted a plan to quickly sweep their error under the rug. How they decided to skirt the issue that they are screwing me on money:

I should drop a class. The most basic class in the department to be exact. That way, I'll get a tuition refund from the dropped class (hopefully 100% because it's past the deadline for that...but they sent an email so of course that should fix things *sarcasm*). The tuition refund in addition to the refund I received from my scholarship should be...well...less than I'm *supposed* to get but would be enough to get me through the semester. However, the other stipulation is that I'm supposed to audit the class.

Which is really just a fancy word for get up and go to class which starts at 9am (which requires a lot more effort than people thing especially when you work until midnight and have to get up two hours earlier than the class to organize things and take public transportation), do all of the work for the class, take all the tests, sit through the mind-numbing lectures because I learned all of this information in eighth grade...

Drink That Kool-Aid, Follow My Lead

Well, this weekend I went to a BBQ at the house of one of the guys from my department. It was pretty boring (I mean...we watched three hours of Star Wars...come on I'm a trekkie here...), but the food was good and free, which is always a bonus because I'm broke big time cause of the school's screw up in my offer letter. And he attempted to give us a "pep talk" that was really just more depressing than anything.

I was talking with my fiance today (yes,  I actually got to TALK to him! Best feeling in the world) and was going through expenses, the offer letter, and all around just finally having somebody to complain to. I ended up showing him this other blog that I found called From Grad School to Happiness because it's really been helping me cope with all the issues I've been having. Anyway, my fiance, after reading some of it, made the statement that grad school was akin to a cult. And I laughed, but it took me a few moments to realize just how right he was.

Don't Know How Much Worse It Can Get

Well after my meeting yesterday was more than tripled in time, I ended up with blisters the size of nickels all over my feet. And eighteen hours later, they still have closed and are oozing clear liquid. So I can't exactly walk. 

And on top of that, I woke up with hives all over my legs and an infection under my arm.

It's like something's trying to tell me yes, I shouldn't be here.

Sigh.