Yesterday was my solo jaunt downtown to meet with the admissions counselor of the Adler School of Professional Psychology. It went hunky dory. Aces. All good.
Parking my car at the Cumberland stop was fairly easy, though I want know WHAT Illinoisan stole this genius license plate and, for crissakes, why'd they put it on a Mercury Sable, one of the most benign, boring old-people cars out there. Steven guessed it was Jim DeRogatis. I said, "Nope. He drives a Range Rover."
First, I had to take the train downtown. Not the cushy, clean Metra rail system that everyone takes coming from the suburbs into the city. The El, the public transport from hell. But there's a station right down the street from me and the Adler School is literally steps away from the Washington stop on the train. Literally, you cross 2 streets and it's right there. Incredibly convenient, beautiful school. Anyway, I try to carry hand sanitizer w/me when I go downtown, because I'm a WASP and get acute germaphobia taking public transportation. Fortunately, I managed to meander my way through the stations and stairwells, not touching a single thing with my hands the whole way down from Park Ridge, until I could find a ladies' room or whip out the one hand sanitizing wipe I had.
Being neurotic as well, I arrived downtown (via the train) an hour early for my appointment. But it was a beautiful day and, exiting the El and landing in Daley Plaza (a big open plaza that is in front of a county/municipal building). I had a few smokes and listened to a classic rock cover band that zipped through some Who, CCR, Beatles, Cream and Elvis Costello. Once they started in with the ZZ Top, however, I had to bolt. What would've been more appropriate, given the personnel in the interior of the Daley Center? "Lawyers, Guns & Money" by Warren Zevon.
I don't think I'd BEEN in Daley Plaza since my divorce hearing with Craig. Good memories. Parents were letting their kids slide down the Picasso. I'm not sure it was meant to be a slide, but hey, whatever works.
Going upstairs to the 15th floor of Adler, where I'd meet my counselor, amused me SIGNIFICANTLY. I asked where the ladies' room was, as I had to go. You think your workplace is progressive and politically correct? I betcha they didn't go this far in their restroom nomenclature, which cracked me the fuck up:
Parking my car at the Cumberland stop was fairly easy, though I want know WHAT Illinoisan stole this genius license plate and, for crissakes, why'd they put it on a Mercury Sable, one of the most benign, boring old-people cars out there. Steven guessed it was Jim DeRogatis. I said, "Nope. He drives a Range Rover."
First, I had to take the train downtown. Not the cushy, clean Metra rail system that everyone takes coming from the suburbs into the city. The El, the public transport from hell. But there's a station right down the street from me and the Adler School is literally steps away from the Washington stop on the train. Literally, you cross 2 streets and it's right there. Incredibly convenient, beautiful school. Anyway, I try to carry hand sanitizer w/me when I go downtown, because I'm a WASP and get acute germaphobia taking public transportation. Fortunately, I managed to meander my way through the stations and stairwells, not touching a single thing with my hands the whole way down from Park Ridge, until I could find a ladies' room or whip out the one hand sanitizing wipe I had.
Being neurotic as well, I arrived downtown (via the train) an hour early for my appointment. But it was a beautiful day and, exiting the El and landing in Daley Plaza (a big open plaza that is in front of a county/municipal building). I had a few smokes and listened to a classic rock cover band that zipped through some Who, CCR, Beatles, Cream and Elvis Costello. Once they started in with the ZZ Top, however, I had to bolt. What would've been more appropriate, given the personnel in the interior of the Daley Center? "Lawyers, Guns & Money" by Warren Zevon.
I don't think I'd BEEN in Daley Plaza since my divorce hearing with Craig. Good memories. Parents were letting their kids slide down the Picasso. I'm not sure it was meant to be a slide, but hey, whatever works.
I love to people watch. Just an observation: A lot of people still smoke. And wear bad shoes. "Neon" doesn't begin to describe how neon this woman's pair of shoes appeared. She was a Polo-clad, huge-pursed, talking on her cell phone 60'something trying too hard to be a hipster. And with black socks!!!! I think I have book highlighters in this color:
Feeling particularly feminine yesterday, I identified myself as such and used what normal places that are evidently politically incorrect, term the "Ladies' Room." I just couldn't help but laugh to myself at extent the Adler School has gone to be progressive. While there weren't any transgendered people in the bathroom at the time, I think they'd have about as much use as I did of the free sanitary feminine supplies provided, which they keep next to the hand lotion.
I wondered if the "IDENTIFIED" part of the sign lit up if sensors within the doorway realized you had girl parts, like a VAGINOMETER. "We have identified a female!"
What's but one reason why I liked the Adler School so much? They don't do much, if any, standardized testing. It's all paper-writing. Sign me up! It would certainly alleviate me of Q&A challenges like this on my psych exams:
The bottom line? If I get all my ducks in a row QUICKLY, like in 3 weeks, I could theoretically start the Adler School at the end of the month in August, concurrently take Statistics at Oakton (which everyone knows I'll probably fail but whatever), and do their masters program in 2 years, get licensed and THEN worry about getting a PsyD if that is what I choose to do.
The alternative to statistics is taking something called "Research Methods," which have been hard to find in the local area without having to apply and attend a 4-year school. I need something quick, easy and that I can finish in a fall semester. The admissions counselor thought Research Methods would be far less math-oriented and I'd fare better. But if I can't find it, what can I do?
My seemingly paltry graduating GPA of 2.7 will be balanced out by my post-grad GPA of (I think this is right) 3.75. They're more concerned with my letters of recommendation, my personal essay and my interview. The admissions counselor didn't seem to think I'd have a gigantic problem being accepted into the masters program, and advised me against leaping head-first into a doctorate, when I can practice, licensed with a masters. I still want to be a doctor of psychology, though...even if I am pushing 50 by the time that happens.
It's the financing it all that's fucked me up. I can and would qualify for federal loans for the program, but the government, being assholes, switched around the manner by which you now can loan yourself out a living stipend. I would desperately need the living stipend, $9k a semester, to keep my family afloat while I attend school, money already unbearably tight at Camp Miklasz, but my credit is in the toilet and my mom refuses to cosign the loan for me, having been saddled with my car payments 6 years ago when I drunkenly and bipolarly, not-medicatedly bought the Pacifica and couldn't pay for it anymore, blowing the family savings when I was really fucked up. She's understandably gun shy of cosigning another loan with me, which I understand, but I also NEED to go to school full time in order to GET a good job (unlike making $11.50/hr at a part-time job that had me insane and starving myself, that I only stayed at as long as I did because I was in love). Not trusting that I'm working really hard to rebuild my credit and start fresh, and that I can't get the loan without a cosigner, I'd think my mom would be more willing to weigh the risks vs the benefits, which would make life at Camp Miklasz much easier for all 3 of us, my unemployment running out by January and she living on Social Security. We're barely scraping by now. If I don't go into school this fall, I have to wait an entire YEAR before I would start, which is a disaster.
No, I can't find a job and save up living expenses for grad school and quit said job next year, assuming it'd take me less than the 2 years it took me to find my last job. I'd lose my unemployment, we'd have to live on what I brought home, and I wouldn't be able to save jack for the future. The whole thing is about to get, as a recent blog said, "chucked in the fuck-it bucket." (No, while BMF loves me to eternity, he won't cosign a loan investing in my future.) The whole thing, as is the case with the rest of my life, is a colossal clusterfuck.
Alas, I'm putting it in the gloves of the Boxing Jesus:
One of my distant relatives in Poland must now be famous, because it would take a Miklasz to shoot this at Mitt Romney:
This is what I really need right now, though my Chief Forehead Kisser's on his week of Controlled Boredom (which today includes a trip to the farmers' market and a bike ride, woot! and my plans with BMF, if I do go to Adler at the end of August will be impossible):
Keep in touch, ya'll. I have a separate shitstorm to discuss later.
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