Chumbawamba.

Remember that group Chumbawamba? They sang this song called tubthumping. And if you remember that song, you remember when they sang over and over again, "I get knockdown, but I get up again," over and over again.

I sang that song about eleven thousand times today.

( this post will be heavy on the swearing. I apologize if your offended by swearing. In which case you should probably hit the little red X. Also let's face facts here. I'm a New Yorker. It's in my blood to curse. And you'll probably never want to watch a Giants game with me. I say a lot of colorful words when i'm watching them. Maybe someday soon I'll share those words with you and maybe even define them.)

So today when I was getting ready for work I decided that I should probably call financial aid and see what's going on with my account. You see I've still not received my financial aid. I've been forced to pay for everything out of my pocket. This leaving me with $19.67 in the fucking bank. Because you need those books to study and all the other course material needed including the fucking class, that typically financial aid has pays for.

So I called to see what's going on with my financial aid, because my car broke down and I can't afford to fix it because I have no money because I had to pay for my class. Ya know all $1000+ dollars that is costs to register for a class. That typically financial aid pays for.

So this lady answers my call and I tell her how I'm looking for answers as to why my financial aid isn't here. Ya know so this financial nightmare I'm in can be over.

The lady asks me for my date of birth. I tell her 3/30/81. She is silent for a few minutes. Then proceeds to ask me of I'm sure. I confidently say "yes" because I know my fucking birthdate. I was there. And she tells me that there is no record of my birthdate. So I sit silent for a few seconds ( carefully thinking about my next words) then I say how about I give you my social security number. So she checks it. It comes back to a fucking Samantha Johnston and then asks me if that's my name. Again thinking about my words, I answer (while grinding my teeth) "nope my name is Courtney Johnson. Like I told you in the beginning of this call." She proceeds to apologize and I cut her right off.

Girls, I totes lost it. I screamed for probably about 5 minutes about how my world has been fucked up by these jack asses.

All of a sudden, I realized that this poor woman had nothing to do with it and i started to calm down.

I realized that i got knocked down and I have to get back up again.

It's my job to get back up again. Start being confident that this situation has to get better. It's the only fucking choice I have. To smile and know it will get better. It has too.

One last thing, I want to thank each and everyone of you for your kind words to me yesterday. I wish I could take everyone up on there offer for drinks! Each comment I read showed me that you care about me.

Unlike some asshole blogger that felt the need to send me a nasty email about not participating in this swap she had. Sorry Doll. Shit came up. I was honest with you and told you how strapped for cash i am. And your response was bull shit. You called people out on your blog and so am I. I promise I will get something out to the person that I was suppose to give a present too. I will more then make it up to her. As for the blogger. You can kindly fuck off.

End rant. ( now in singing Eminem' s "Not Afraid")

I love you all. Except for the the people who messed my financial aid up and the blogger.

Xoxo
Court