Rebound

I have to admit that this is a totally rebound post, since for the last two hours (and the past ten day) I have been writing away like a fiend what is slowly coming to resemble a paper – that is in academic sense. And the writing of the following post is driven by pure inertia, since I’m unable to stop, and will be happy to write about anything that does not involve words poverty, foreign aid and aid donors (which I unconsciously or consciously misplaced with the word bastards on more than one occasion). I’m done with the fun part - the rewarding in itself scavenger hunt for information, the reading and scribbling notes part (by far is my most favorite), then the outline, then the part where I actually sit down and write the damn thing and even come up with a conclusion that actually looks and sounds good (that is in my biased opinion). There is still the not so fun part left, which entails citing the sources, making sure that I did not accidentally steal someone else’s quote without giving proper credit, and four days of reading the thing million times over to make sure that there are no awkward typos (and I am very VERY prone to those) and that I did not forget to replace one of the aforementioned profanities. Not that I would be distorting the truth. But I don’t think it will leave the best possible impression – not in this case, anyway.

Other than that, I have somehow miraculously passed the credit review for student loan application with my non-existent credit history and will be able to borrow the difference that even the full amount of Federal Stafford loan cannot cover. Talk about expensive. I also found out that I will get much better rates if I have the loan (Graduate PLUS Loan) processed through school and can borrow up to the full amount of attendance cost, as opposed to tuition cost, which means that even if I get no “free” scholarship money and decide that an honest, white collar, administrative job is too lame for me, I will still be able to pay rent and have a place to live (and it gets coooold up in Boston) and be covered by health insurace. It’s not the best case scenario by far, since we’re talking about a huge black hole of student loan debt on my otherwise debtless record, but at the same time it’s not the end of the world. It’s actually rather encouraging, which in its turn means that for now it’s one less thing to worry about – and instead I can direct all my obsessive energy towards speculating on other stuff, like how I’m going to move my ten thousand pairs of shoes and whether or not my new roommates will be nice.

Speaking of roommates - the roommate situation is getting a little monumental. It was monumental to begin with, since I’m sharing a house with a Korean guy, an Indian guy and a guy who was born in Afganistan but moved to the States when he was little. Add an odd Armenian female to this and you have the most unique international boarding house ever possible to imagine. I think one of the reasons I decided to rent this room (apart from cheap rent and nice neighborhood – since a certain someone had sent me off to this side of the world with a blessing and a prediction that I was bound to inevitably end up in a crack house in downtown Richmond) - one of the reasons that I got this room was the ridiculousness of the idea. You would not be able to come up with such combination of different cultures even if you tried to. And I thought it might get interesting at dinner time. Which, apart from odd Korean food, has been relatively tame. The part that these are all guys actually works as an advantage, cause I seriously have very low female tolerance and who- stole- my- lipstick and who- ate- my- fat-free- yogurt, who-stole-my- boyfriend and who- you’re- sleeping-with situations would get old very fast and start getting on my nerves. I get along with guys well. We live in peace - no political, ethnic, religious, gender or other conflicts. We work as a team. I don’t bitch, they leave me alone – everything’s cool. Except for one thing - dirty dishes. Yup the dishes and food living in the sink, which, you have to admit, is gross – and this is coming from someone who is not the cleanest person in the world. Apart from that the rest of my tenancy has been relatively uneventful... or wait, there was that time when the electricity was cut off for the most part of the evening and it brought back old memories of dark and cold Armenia. And that one other time when the water was cut off for like two days – Armenia repeated. And then that other time, or three or four times, when the downstairs bathtub was not draining at all… and that other time when the heater was broken and there was no heat or hot water… Never mind all that, I’ve been through worse shit, and I can deal with it –with more than necessary bitching, of course, but that’s just part of the fun. But dishes! My god it’s gross. And it bugs me so much that endless notes on the message board are starting to change from “Please wash your dishes. It's unsightly” to “Wash your fucking dishes already!” On these guys the f word has been known to have some effect. If not, I’m moving out. To live in the Fan. Who cares that it’s expensive. I’m getting a forty thousand student loan anyway. And no, this is not an ultimatum.