It’s again that time of the month. That dreaded horrendous, mind-wrenching damning time of the month where the entire female population until the end of time has to pay for the fruit that wretched Eve ate and because of that ONE DAMN FRUIT I am sitting here in wretched pain writing this stupid blog in an attempt to convey yet another minidrama of a 21-year-old.
This whole week has been a never ending twist&turn flipping mind game in the hopes of procuring a VISA. V.I.S.A. A Visa. Who knew getting one would be so difficult and time consuming. The actual summer program for which I’m getting this Visa for only sent me one piece of paper. Count that: ONE, which said it’s so easy to get this visa, it takes only a few days to process, all you need is your passport and write “Student” on the application; but if it was so damn easy then how did I manage to run around all day today just to mail this one small envelope?
This is how:
I wake up at 10 am and go take a shower because I need to look presentable for my passport pictures which I needed to take at Kinko’s before my 11 o clock class. I leave the house by 10:30 and while waiting for the pictures to print at Kinko’s the lady is trying to figure out which envelope I need for my “prepaid tracking return envelope” that was required by the Ghana Consulate.
It’s 10:55 and I realize I won’t make it to class and doggone it I wasn’t in the mood to cringe in my seat in the lecture hall waiting for the next wave of beloved cramps, so I skipped my first class and in a fit of indecision for my next point of action I decide to drive to another post office, instead of going to the one right next door to Kinkos to get a money order when I realized that I didn’t have a gluestick to paste the passport pictures onto the applications. So I decide to go home.
While home I try to buy my plane ticket for the Visa but in my indecision couldn’t decide on which plane ticket to commit to and by then I was running late for my next class at 12:30 so I didn’t paste my pictures, didn’t get the money order, and didn’t buy the plane ticket.
By the end of my classes I had a 1 hour window to do all three and mail my application to the Ghana consulate at the postal office in price center by 4:30.
First I had to buy the ticket which I did by sitting at price center and going online. But then I realized I had to print it so I moved all my belongings to the computers at price center when the printer ran out of paper. So I had to walk to Geisel and use one of their computers to print the ticket.
Then I walked back to the post office when I noticed the big sign: “NO MONEY ORDERS,” which seemed to imply that they weren’t making any money orders today. I decided I should at least paste my pictures so I borrowed tape from the post office and taped them on. The post office lady told me I could go to the Credit Union at Gilman Parking Structure for a money order but they’ll charge me $5. It was 4:15.
In a fit of indecision I go on the bus thinking it’ll be faster and more reasonable if I went back to my car, drove to the first post office I went to this morning, get the money order there and mail the damn application.
But while sitting on the bus I realized this was unreasonable considering I had a class at 5. So I run off the bus and run from price center all the way to Gilman and wait 5 minutes in line to FINALLY get to the teller and she tells me that I need to pay in cash.
The ATM is back at price center.
By then it was too late. I missed the post office closing time and I had run around like a psycho-child on steroids all day to mail something that I felt was time sensitive. I forgot to realize that in the middle of the day I had talked to my IES counselor who said that I had an extra week to turn this in.
By the end of the day I was tired, cramping to no end without having eaten or drunken anything with increasing back aches and blogging before my 5 o clock class. I decided to go buy a drink at least so I went to the nearest coffee stand.
“What can I get you?”
“Juice or water… juice.. or.. water…”
In another fit of indecision I couldn’t bear the stress of making the wrong decision any more that I bursted in front of the coffee stand and started to cry.
