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El chupacabra tomó mis pantalones

el Jesús grande de la mantequilla

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Lo, I am discontent.
i am one with the universe
Over the years since I dropped out of college, many people have suggested that I might transfer my credits and get a degree in, say, communications or English...if only to prove my "sticktuitiveness" (lord, how I hate that portmanteau!) and demonstrate that I'm awesome and I have a BA.

Part of my issue with sticking with Loyola U Chicago is that I had issues with one of my professors, the late Jack Trahey. He had very high expectations of me, and frankly, I could have met those expectations, had I not been going out of my mind with my parents' divorce and my roommate's (in retrospect) less-than-sterling influence. Had I not been a complete and total fuckup, I could've finished my degree there. And I'd still like to finish my degree there...but I don't have the money to move back to Chicago and finish my courses there, and I don't even know if the school would take me back. In a perfect world, they would and they'd understand my 2002 meltdown, but this is far from a perfect world, and I very much doubt they would, even if I could afford to move back to Chicago. It's not a cheap city to live in, and most of my friends are married and moved out on their own, so a roommate would be rather hard to find.

And so I'm stuck. I'm in the boonies of Wisconsin, looking for a job, and less than thrilled with my lot in life, but what else can I do? I've got a little bit of savings, but not nearly enough to uproot myself and move out. My intention, before I was laid off nine months ago, was to be moved out by now, squirreling away money from my salaried position, and gearing up to eventually relocate back to Chicago. But reality, that harsh mistress, intervened, and now I'm *still* looking for work and am generally grumpy. Not the best place to be, but at least I'm not living in a refrigerator box. Thank heavens for small favors, I suppose.

Nevertheless, I'm not exactly content with where I find myself at age 29 and one month, and I'd like to believe in 11 months, I'll find myself in a better position, but I'm not exactly optimistic.