Just read the fine print.

I ordered my mom a bracelet and matching earrings for Mother's Day.

The company I ordered from took out the money for them.

And then they signed me up for a semi-monthly jewelry program and took out another $70.

Needless to say, when my mom checked my account this morning, she panicked when she saw that I was almost completely broke.

She put $200 in my account, which makes me want to cry, because my parents said they wouldn't help and I doubt my dad knows that my mom gave me money.

Then she called to let me know.

Needless to say, I ended up having to call this company and completely canceling my order to get them to cancel my sign-up with their little program.

So I get my money back.

But I also have no gift for my mom.

*sigh*

Back to the drawing board.

Hate is a strong word, but it fits nonetheless.

I hate myself.

I hate myself for the choices I made.

I hate myself for making my mom cry.

I hate myself for giving my little sister cause to say that she's disappointed in me.

I hate myself for making it impossible for my dad and I to even speak to each other for more than the couple of sentences it took to tell him that I needed to talk to my mom.

I hate myself for hurting them.

I hate myself for hurting me.

I hate myself.

Good people do exist.

I'm very relieved right now.

I'm very happy right now.

Right now, I'm not worried about being homeless.

It's always funny to me how, when we are most in need, people come out of the woodwork to offer a helping hand.

Last night, an old acquaintance from high school myspaced me and offered to let me stay with her until I'm on my feet.

I was so relieved in that moment that I cried.

We don't know each other very well. We only had a couple classes together in high school and she graduated a year ahead of me.

But for her to offer me that, a place to lay my head until I'm able to afford a place of my own....

It gives me faith that good people really do exist.

With a little luck....

I may be sometimes lacking in common sense and/or intelligence, but I know when to take the advice given to me.

My parents are planning to drive down to pick me up on Friday and take me back to a small podunk town where my chances of getting a job or finding a place to live are pretty much slim to nothing.

But my best friend's mom thinks I should stay here. Stay here, find a place to live and get a job. Kids are going home for the summer. Jobs are opening up everywhere.

One thing is for sure...it'll be easier to get a job here than there.

So here I am, sitting at my computer, looking at listings on craigslist.

So far, I haven't found anything that I could afford without a little help.

But I have faith that there is someone in this town that'll understand.

I'm about to go all over town looking for a job. Wish me luck.

Taking stock

When you fail college, it is always important to be aware of all aspects of the situation. You have to take stock, know where you stand.

Things I Am Aware Of:

1) I have $92 in my bank account.
2) I owe my grandparents around $7,000.
3) I have no job.
4) I may not have a place to live.
5) My family will NOT help me...in any way.
6) My friends are not really in a position to help me, either.

In other words?

If I don't start figuring out a plan now, I'm screwed.

Great.

I really, really messed up.

I can admit that.

I may sometimes be lacking in common sense and/or intelligence, but I'm not stupid. I know when I've effed up.

This is one of those times.

You see, I had a college education practically handed to me, all paid for by my grandparents.

I failed.

I failed every single class this semester.

It's not something I'm proud of. It's just a fact.

I failed.

There were reasons and methods.

Yes, you read that right. Methods.

I did this on purpose.

Like I said...lacking in common sense and/or intelligence.

The how isn't really that important, and it's not like it was rocket science either.

A paper blown off here, a class skipped there.

It adds up.

The part that really matters is the why.

And looking back on it, the reasons why I came up with this genius (note the sarcasm) plan were really stupid.

My Papa is a very smart man. He's well educated and he teaches science at a high school in Southern California. He's also very insightful. He has this way of digging deep and unearthing things about situations that maybe nobody has thought of.

Sometimes, the things he reveals make people uncomfortable, or in my case, furious.

We were talking on the phone, rehashing an argument that was getting older all the time.

And he told me that he thinks I fail on purpose. Not consciously, but still, every time I've failed at something, school in particular, I did it on purpose. Compulsively, you might say.

And he asked me to go to a counselor and get some professional help with my "problems."

What person likes to hear that? I certainly didn't!

And I was really, really mad.

I had two choices.

Pass every class with flying colors and flip my grandparents the metaphorical bird.

Or fail every class and waste every dime they invested in me...

and flip them the metaphorical bird.

What do you think I chose?