Southern New Hampshire University

**This issue has since been solved. SNHU did right by me, by actually approving it as a one-time correction. But let this still be a warning.**

Basically... run!

As some of you may remember, I tried starting back at college in May of this year. I applied at, and was accepted into, Southern New Hampshire University (SNHU), taking online courses. This is my nightmare...

When you apply for college, in America, you fill out an application, send it to whichever college or university, and after a bit, you’ll get a letter or email with either an acceptance or rejection. Not with SNHU. No... You fill out a form to express your interest, then they call you, and they fill out the application, with you on the phone. Weird, but not totally unacceptable.

Then you go through the typical financial aid crap. Miracle of miracles, you’re in, and are approved for federal loans!

Then there are the classes...

The absolutely useless professors are, well, useless. Ask a question, get a vague response. Ask an and/or question, and get a yes/no response. “You can reach me anytime! Here’s my email, phone number, and available minute.” Yeah... right.

This crap hole has less than 50% graduation rate. Those who do graduate, even with a BA in English, can’t figure out the difference between “apart” and “a part”, let alone “farther” and “further”! Great education they got...

Now for the worst of it...

Should you need to drop a class, or drop out altogether, here’s a helpful hint: Let the semester go by, even if you have to fail the class. They don’t tell you about the drop process and fees, so reading ahead, and making copies of the current process is a must. 

I had to drop out about four or five weeks into the term, because of my mental state, and the rapid decline of that state. When I called, I was told that I’d have to pay back the federal loan I used. Totally makes sense. When I was on the phone with one of their representatives, I was told, no less than three times, that I wouldn’t have to pay back any grant money that was disbursed. 

Here we are, almost four months later, and I get an email, telling me I owed SNHU over $400! I called the financial office, told them what I was told, and got, “I’m sorry for any misinformation, but the balance still stands”... ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!

This joke of an institution won’t stand by their word. Anything you’re told can, and will, be countered by some rule that they hide on their website so well, that it would take a freaking programmer to find! 

Do not, under any circumstances, use this money-sucking factory! It’s not an educational institution, it’s nothing more than a nationwide shark, betting on your failure.

Rolaids Spells Relief

Yes, I’m talking about a specific person. No, I won’t tell you her name. She’s a good person, but she needs major help.

I met her in, like, 2009. She was odd, but good odd. She danced to music like nobody was watching, her sense of fashion was purely her own (and she rocked it!).  She talked, she listened, she cared. We were good friends! Then things started changing...

She got married to a guy I didn’t think was good for her, but that was her choice. When she had her first kid, things really started showing. Her tone, her body language, and her behaviors started seeking attention and validation, instead of giving it.

Things started getting bad for my mental health about three years ago. She’d post dozens of pictures of her kids in the comments of posts that had nothing to do with kids or pictures. On pretty much every post, I could expect no less than five responses. She’d respond with things out of left field. I’d say something about, say, cleaning out my closet, and I’d get a paragraph about what her kids did that day. Then she turned to pictures and descriptions of her kids on public posts of pages she followed, where anyone and everyone could see. Fun fact: Pedophiles go around social media to find pictures of your kids, and we all know what they do with those pictures.

The more attention she got, the more she needed. Same with validation and, yes, pity. She turned into a perma-victim. Any tiny thing she could get pity for, she’d blow it way out of proportion. Example: The last time I saw her, we went out for dinner. When I was driving her home, literally every pebble we hit, somehow hurt. And it had to be expressed with moans, groans, and detailed descriptions.

It got to a point where, every time I’d see her name pop up on my notifications, I’d get stressed. What’s her latest attention-getting tactic? How far from relevant is her comment? It was stressful, and frankly, it was irritating.

I had to unfollow her on all social media, and I actually blocked her phone number. I simply couldn’t deal with her, anymore. She wasn’t doing anything to help her disorder (Borderline Personality Disorder), because the reactions she gets from family, friends, and strangers, are too satisfying for her. Fun fact: Feeding into someone’s personality disorder, is counterproductive. It hurts them, not helps them. 

I’ve talked to my own therapist about this woman. I said, “She’s a good person, but she drives me nuts. I can’t deal with her.” My therapist’s response? “That’s ok! Borderline is a difficult disorder to be around.”

She recently removed me completely from Facebook, and holy cannoli... the stress is gone! 

Like I said, she’s a good person, and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her, but not having any contact with her, well, that’s just for the best.

You will always bring a smile to my face when I listen to Soolaimon. I wish you well, and I pray you find your happy place. 

Too Full

I’ve never been through this, and I gotta say... I really don’t care for it.

Ok, I have this weird reaction when I eat, which,  everyone who has ever seen it, has to laugh. Normal people get the sensation of, “I’m almost full. Maybe a bite or two more”, right? Not me. I feel hungry while I’m eating... until I don’t. Like, I’m going along, enjoying my taco, then very suddenly, I’ll literally gag because I’m too full. Most of the time, I wind up not being able to even swallow that bite. It gets gross, if you have to watch this.

Anyhow, I’ve never felt the feeling I’ve heard about when someone is too full. Tonight, that changed, and it’s just... no.

I’m not a fan of new things that I can’t control. New pants? Great. New car? Fun! New feeling? No. Yes, this falls under the OCPD tab in my ever-growing owner’s manual for my brain. I’m a major control freak, especially when it comes to myself. I can’t handle when I feel “off”, because it’s not what I want for myself. 

For the last couple weeks, I’ve been fighting certain things that annoy me to the point of irritation, or even anger. I’ve managed to keep my thoughts to myself when reading something with grammar vying for first place in the “I read it in the comments” awards, which is a massive step for me. But, I mean, come on! What kind of kindergarten drop-out spells “Abviously”?!?! 

Anyway, my point is: Trying to deal with something new, has always been difficult for me. Anything about my mind or body, that suddenly changes, is just not ok with me. I’m nearing thirty-four years old, and I still can’t handle these things. Working on it, but not holding my breath.

I’m Amused

Ok, this is fun.

If you’re not in the know, there’s a scam going round with online sales. They find an item you’ve listed online for sale, offer a cashier check for more than the asking price, say they’ll arrange a pickup (since they’re conveniently out of the state for a while) after the check has cleared, and ask for personal information that seems innocent (name, address to mail the check, phone number, etc.). 

When you cash the check, all is great... for around six weeks. That’s when the bank finds out that the account it came from is empty. Then the bank comes after you for reimbursement, plus fees. Scammer gets the money and what you’re selling, and you’re out hundreds, or even thousands of dollars.

I’ve gotten so many of these. Thankfully, I have a smart friend named Taylor, who knows about this kind of thing. I’ve usually just left the scammers hanging, but today, I had some fun...

The following conversation is one such scam. The address and phone number are easily Googled to reach the Salt Lake City field office for the FBI. 

And now, we wait... 😈 

Check out the phone number these texts came from, and have a little fun, yourself. Maybe something to the effect of...

Hey! My friend sold you (insert something expensive), and I was wondering if you’d be interested in my (something similar to expensive item).

Then, feel free to send it to your local police office or fraud department, or go all out with your nearest FBI field office.

Go forth and spam the scammers!

End Of My Rope

I damn well better get this job...

Every time the jackass narcissist is around, his flying monkey treats me like crap. Anything I say gets an eye roll, a glare, or an answer with a seriously annoyed tone. I can do no right, narc can do no wrong.

The term “flying monkey” for a narcissist’s enabler, comes from The Wizard of Oz. The wicked witch’s flying monkeys do her bidding. The narcissist’s enabler does their bidding. Get it? And since the jackass narcissist’s goal in life is to tear me down to suicidal levels, the monkey picks up on it when the narc is around.

Tonight, I posed the question, “Are you aware of how you treat me when he’s around?” As you can imagine, this went over about as well as throwing an egg off the roof. 

“I either get the eye roll, a glare, or a bite.”

“No...”

“Yeah, ya do.”

“When you put dad down, yeah.”

“Not just then. I asked for help, and you glared at me, and said ‘just a minute’ like you were annoyed.”

Then... in the least apologetic tone I’ve ever heard in an attempt at an apology...

“Well, I’m sorry I did that tonight.”

🙄🙄🙄

I interviewed for a fabulous job, last Tuesday. People love working there, it’s got great benefits... Just sounds like a great place. However, the best benefit of this would be: I could get my own place! Away from the jackass, away from the back-and-forth enabler... 

I’m just done. It’s time to make time for myself— Time to find out if I’m worth more than my family thinks I am, time to choose who I have to be around, and time to be me. 

I won’t give my family the satisfaction of my death. Instead,  I’ll shove my happiness in their faces. Repeatedly.

Complications

Oh, the irony...

All Americans will understand HIPPA. It’s the overboard privacy law that prevents anyone from knowing anything about you or your medical history. It’s absolutely ridiculous that, if I was in a horrible car accident, my mom wouldn’t be able to know anything about where I am, what’s wrong, or if I’m on life support, simply because I’m an adult. Yes, if I list her as an emergency contact, she would have slightly more power, but still.

Welp, thanks to COVID causing an ever-increasing number of people suffering from paranoia, HIPPA is taking a blow, and medical offices could face a hilarious fine.

I’m at a doctor office, and they have a taped line on the floor, with a big, bright sign telling us to STAY BEHIND THE LINE! Because of this, I now know that Mr. L has an overdue balance of nearly ninety-four dollars. I know his name, phone number, and address, because he had to say it loud enough that the receptionist could hear. Keep in mind my level of hearing loss, and this is even funnier. 

Jennifer needs a referral for physical therapy, April needs a refill on her heart meds, and Kevin got an STD.

It has been proven, multiple times, that one person wearing a mask, lowers the chance of getting sick to just one percent. Put two people, still standing two or three feet apart, wearing masks, and there’s zero chance you’re going to get sick.

So, what’s more important? Would you prefer the zero percent chance of getting a cold, or your private information being out there for everyone to hear? 

The people who believe the high COVID numbers, need to do some investigating. Here, in Utah, they have hundreds of COVID deaths reported. Fun fact: Many of these deaths were car accidents, and many died of other, major causes (old age, liver/kidney failure, cancer, etc.). They haven’t even reported five actual, legitimate deaths. The deceased are tested during the autopsy, just to make the numbers higher, and increase mass paranoia. Over 90% of people who test positive, have no symptoms. Less than 5% end up in the hospital for any amount of time. Less than 1% are hit hard. 

Think about this.

Why?

Today, I went through something I haven’t been through in almost two years.

Anyone who has experienced mania, true mania, can understand. I don’t know where it came from, I haven’t been able to put my finger on a trigger, but nevertheless, it showed up.

I got angry, irritated, and took it out on a dear friend. I was able to ignore my phone, and watch a movie, alone, to decompress. It took over an hour to rid these thoughts and feelings from my mind. All things considered, that’s no time at all. This used to last for days— weeks, really— so under two hours is amazing.

I hate that feeling. I have no control over my thoughts (of which there are a million), so everything comes out with no filter. It feels like I’m in fifty-million pieces, clinging to any part of me I can find. I’m not me. The last time I felt this way was back in 2018, in England (sorry, again, B, J and L!). 

A long time ago, I promised God and myself that I would find at least one good thing in every day. I do this to remind myself that my life isn’t 100% bad. This keeps me alive. If I can find just one little reason to keep going, I can survive. 

So, today, I got a call from the car salesman I’ve been working with, who told me my new (kind of used) car will be ready tomorrow! Yes, I bought a new car! I wanted an Outback three years ago when I bought my Legacy, but couldn’t afford it. Now, I can! It’s a 2020, but they’re calling it “used” because it has 2,400 miles on it. I’m calling it new. I was joking with friends that I was going to get a license plate frame with “Mijn Tomaat” on it, because it’s red and kind of round on top 😂 And now, it has stuck, so I officially dub it “De Tomaat”! 

**Dutch words, by the way. “My Tomato” and “The Tomato”

Go Stick Your Hand In A Blender

That’s what I told it to do.

So, the narc has the usual trait of “I need this, so you must move heaven and earth to get it for me”. Our kitchen was designed by a moron. The counter hooks a corner, then sits right in front of the fridge. So, if someone is looking in the fridge, another can’t get past. And heaven forbid you need to be in that spot when the jackass comes in. 

It gives a disingenuous “excuse me”, then will either pin you to the fridge, or simply knock you over, so it can get through. Today, I’m beyond irritated. When it gave the obligatory and meaningless ask for excusal, I said, “You push through, I push back, and you will fall”. I’m done with this sad piece of crap. 

A narcissist isn’t a real human; it’s a construct of its own superiority complex. 

I hate it. It’s 74 years old. It’ll die soon. Not soon enough, but the end is in sight. Then my life can begin.

Overreact Much?

I laugh to keep from punching.

So, as I’m sure you’re aware by now, my father is a full-blown narcissist. Its “me, first and always” attitude is irritating to no end. The “my way, no highway” demands are intolerable. One thing that I can laugh at, however, are its overly juvenile overreactions.

Many years ago, mom had gone to bed, I was sitting in the dark living room, and the thing was downstairs (as usual). Welp, I turned off the dining room light, setting it off. It comes storming into the living room, yelling so loud that I’m sure the neighbors heard... “DON’T TURN THE LIGHT OFF! HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I TOOK THE LIGHT OUT OF THE BATHROOM?!?!” Yes, really. Because heaven forbid it simply turn the light on when it enters the room...?

Things like this have happened throughout my life, and I seem to be the only one who can incur the wrath of three-year-old Satan.

Today, like every other day, it proved, once again, that it is nothing more than a spoiled toddler.

It has one of those hospital mugs that it keeps on the table. For years, it simply drank from it, directly. Not sure when, exactly, but at some point, it started keeping a straw in said mug. No big deal, right? Not always. It refuses to let me through, thus forcing me to reach over its precious mug. Guess where my wrist will inevitably land. Every. Single. Time. I finally had enough, and warned that I’d start throwing away the straws if the mug wasn’t at the edge of the table, and perfectly out of my way. I did this once. Tonight, it did it itself, and decides to blame me. Narcissists can’t take responsibility for their own actions. They will always blame the nearest person. This particular event gets even more hilarious. It replaced the straw, and literally taped it in place! I know elementary students with more maturity!

If you’re wondering... no, it didn’t apologize. It never apologizes. Unless it can make itself out to be the victim.

Please enjoy the picture of what immaturity looks like.

Job Hunting Is Hard Work

Rant in 3... 2... 1...

If you’ve applied for jobs recently, you know how frustrating those online assessments are. “There are no wrong answers. Just answer what you think” is total bull. There are wrong answers, or you wouldn’t get the “We regret to inform you...” email thirty seconds after submitting it. They take, like, twenty minutes to fill out, and twenty seconds to get a response. Tonight, I’d had it.

I applied at Ross, did the assessment, and got the denial. So, I wrote this to them:

I know the thing these days is using internet assessments in job applications, but they only tell you the very narrow views the computer tells you. You don’t get to know the applicant as a person. Clicks on a screen tell you exactly zero about who that person really is. Asking someone how they’d react to a situation, and only giving 4 pre-determined responses, simply doesn’t work. The way a person talks, moves, and engages, cannot be explained in an internet assessment. That is only something that an actual, live person can determine. You, along with far too many other companies, are losing out on some absolutely awesome employees, and making it harder for people to get good jobs that they would rock at. I did your assessment, and less than 2 minutes later, received an email, reading, “After careful consideration, we regret to inform you...” The computer didn’t think I can rock this job, but I guarantee, if I’m allowed to meet with the manager of the location, I’d wow them! I’m a person, not a score on a computer.

Thank you.

I’m done with these stupid things. What happened to the days of going into the business, filling out a paper application, and meeting the manager? That’s how I got my first three jobs. It’s a good system! People don’t matter anymore. They don’t want to mold someone into the perfect employee, no... they want the perfect employee already gift wrapped.

If you’re tired of this, feel free to copy that message, and send it to the company you know you’d rock with.

Slow, Not Stupid

Are you lucky enough to know a special needs person?

I’ve worked most of my career with special needs. I spent four amazing years with a self-contained high school class, I’ve worked with elementary specials, and for a week (yes, one week) with a day center for special adults. These people will test you until your very last hair has been ripped out, but they will also love you without limits.

I’m watching Burn Notice, and this episode had a higher functioning special needs man. When it came down to a fight between his longtime “friend”, and the good guy he’d met a couple times, he chose the good guy. This made me think about all my former kids.

If you’ve ever had the pleasure of getting to know one of these amazing humans, feel blessed. Parents of special kids, you know what I’m talking about. 

After watching this episode, I was thinking back on the kids I’ve worked with, and noticed that Hollywood finally got one thing right. These very special people have a gift— they can spot the good person in any situation. It’s almost like they have a sixth sense that can identify someone’s heart. If you’re good to them just once, they’ve got your face tattooed on their heart forever. 

There’s one former student of mine, in particular, who will always bring a smile to my face, every time I think of him. I believe everyone needs to meet someone like him. I may have taught him how to count, but he taught me so much more.

Every person who comes into your life has something to teach you, and needs to learn something from you. You never know what that will be, and it’s never anything you might expect. 

Not my usual post. Was just on my mind.