"That Girl" Dukes It Out!

I've been out of college for five years. In that time period, I've seen a lot of changes in the world around me. In the US, we are currently under the leadership of our first African-American president. Lindsay Lohan is the next in a string of socialites to do soft time for a hard crime. FEMA has become the new F word. And sandwiches now come in a can (if you don't believe me, check this out.) Big things have shifted in our world. And yet, in the midst of all of this flux, there is one ever-constant principle that we can cling fast to: Financial aid offfices suck.

There... I said it. Admit it. Any of you who've ever dealt with your own educational funding will immediately understand what I am saying. Bursars and loan officers are the higher education equivalent of the soul-sucking guidance counselors we all knew in high school.

In trying to figure out the application process for US aid for a foreign Masters program, I have been thrust back into the hell that is financial aid. In the past week, I have been in the middle of a 60+ email exchange with a my UK school that would make a less courageous woman than I throw in the towel.

I'm taking out a Stafford loan to help fund this next chapter in my weird life. It's a loan given by the US government, with a nice low interest rate, and is predicated on need, not credit. Pretty simple, right? You would think, but the situation is a bit complicated, because I am attending a foreign school, and need to meet their requirements to take out said loan. Now at this point, you are probably asking what these special requirements are. I can honestly say that, up until yesterday, I had no frakking clue, because no one in the aid office could elucidate them to me. I was assigned a loan assistant, and in the course of the past two weeks, I have sent her numerous emails asking for some guidelines. To every question I posed re: my US direct loan, I was given the same response - a link to a now-defunct American website. No other information, no actual answer to my question (most of which we were specific tot he institution to which I am attending), not even a hello or signature on the email. Tres helpful, no?

Yesterday, I sent a professional but curt email to said officer, informing her (again) that the link was not only broken but outdated, to which her "helpful" reply mererly stated, "I'm sorry I can't be of more help. Have a nice day." Seriously? That's all you've got for me?

Finally, with the help of her kind supervisor and the nice sainted people in my undergraduate college's International office, things are under control. At this point in time, I must reiterate my pride in my undergraduate institution. Even five years out, I am consistently reminded of how privileged I was to attend a college where students and alums are seen not merely as sources of future revenue, but rather as valued partners in a much bigger picture. So three cheers for that! And, with a little luck, and some expedience on the part of the British consulate, I should be a student visa holder in the very near future. Good news for me! Now if only the courts would mandate a strict Candwich diet for LiLo the Jailbird...

"That Girl" is Pleased You're Here!

Hey there --

Welcome to the internet cabana of your friendly (sometimes) neighborhood (sort of) That Girl. Originally from Pennsylvania, That Girl moved to the glorious Big Apple nearly three years ago to pursue, along with three million other short brunette women, the dream of being an actress. Fast forward to now. That Girl is an actress. She's a variety/burlesque performer and producer. She has a theatre company of her very own which has been reasonably successful on the isle of Manhattan. And now what? She will, as of October 1, be travelling to London (Assuming her visa goes through!) to begin a one year Master's in Performance. IN LONDON. Squeee!

So why here? On blogger? Writing yet another travel blog to inflict upon friends, coworkers, perfect strangers who don't care how I spent my Sunday and certainly don't want to see pictures of my cat? Starting a blog while I'm away is in some ways a very selfish thing to do. I want a forum to broadcast my adventures and stresses and observations, I suppose, just like anyone who blogs. But my main motivation is that I am already feeling homesick for all of you, two months prior to my departure. I'll miss seeing your faces, and eating tator tots with you, and searching out the best Drag Queen Bingo in Manhattan with you. I'll miss the convenience of an MTA-sponsored trip to your apartment for takeout and a bitchfest. In short, I'll miss you like a hole in my head. But, by writing to you here, it's like being in the next boro, instead of being multiple timezones away.

And why are you here? Well, presumably, you'll miss me too. I mean, I am charming. But there's another reason. I get into some of the strangest, most off the wall, randomest situations on a daily basis. If I can accomplish that in NYC, just imagine how much absurdity I can wrassle up abroad!

I'm glad you're here. I hope you'll stay. Let the adventure (and the silliness) begin.

Love,
That Girl