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(Part 2 of 2, Part 1 can be found here)

The bad:

I don't remember what I said to broach the subject of birth control. I just remember some of the first words out of my mother's mouth: “You're not pregnant, are you?” “What? No, of course not.” “Not with Dan. Whatever you do, never with Dan. He's not the one for you.”

From there, what was supposed to be a quick chat about birth control turned into a half hour long bash on Dan and my relationship with Dan:

She said that Dan “isn't a man, he's a little boy."
She said we have an unhealthy “enabling” relationship.
She said that Dan is narcissistic, and I'm his codependent.
 

She distinctly implied that I'm only with Dan for the gifts he gives me.

She basically said I should dump him since he doesn't like washing the dishes.
She compared my relationship with Dan to her failed first marriage to a drunk... who was possibly abusive.

Never mind that Dan is always there when I need him, that he's always willing to help, that he gladly takes care of me when I'm sick. Never mind that Dan is always there to calm me down, prop me up, and catch me when I fall. Never mind that he treats me better than every one else in my life. Never mind that he loves me more than anyone else has before.

Dan has never risen a hand to me in anger. He has no serious vices – he doesn't drink, he's not a crazy partier, he doesn't have any drug or gambling addictions. He is impossibly sweet. He takes care of me. He loves me. He helps me in more ways than I can say. I thought this was how a good relationship was supposed to be?

But no, none of that matters.

What matters is that “he doesn't fit in with the family.” He doesn't do dishes. He didn't cook for me when we lived together. We constantly “enable” each other. He's a mama's boy. His hypoglycemia can make him temperamental. What matters is that we cuddled in front of the fireplace in Washington when I was freezing cold.

I barely fit in with my family;* why would I want him to? He's quiet and reserved, and you've been against him from the get-go. We've reached a compromise – I do dishes and he rubs my constantly aching shoulders. It's win-win. He did cook fairly often, actually, but his days were a lot longer than mine even after I got a job, so I ended up doing most of the cooking while he bought a good 90% of our food because I was dirt poor. Yes, he adores his mother. So what? That translates to how he treats me. How is that a problem? The hypoglycemia is annoying, but he's getting better and we know how to work through it whenever it pops up. I would rather deal with his hypoglycemia than your issues. And, seriously? Cuddling PDA is blacklisted even when I'm freezing cold and he's trying to warm me up?

F.U., Mom.

Oh, and learn what “enable” means. Your stupid is showing.

*Excepting Kelly and Geena – seriously, I luff you guys so hard. I miss you!


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Thanksgiving was both fun and a disaster and a half. My Aunt Jan lives up in Washington state, and she came up with the wonderful idea to have Thanksgiving at my parent's new house up there (oh yeah, they bought a house within 20 minutes of Aunt Jan a few months ago; they're trying to rent it out until they can move up). If we went, we would be spending Thanksgiving with Aunt Jan and cousin Kirian for the first time in nearly a decade. I love them both dearly, so it sounds fun, right?

 Wrong )


I hope all of you had a far better Thanksgiving break than I did!
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I'm ready to slap Matthew and my mother. Apparently, it's my fault that Matthew's cat didn't get her medication today because I "can't just suddenly stop giving her her meds and expect Matthew to be responsible." Yeah, Mom actually said that. I've been telling him since Day 1 nearly two weeks ago that he needs to be responsible to her medications. That was on the 6th. 11 days later, and he's still leaving it for someone else to do every single morning because he "forgets" or he's "too tired." He only does it in the evening because we hound him to take care of her. We literally have to tell him 5 or 6 times before he does it. It takes 1 minute to give Midnight her medicines, but it turns into a 45 minute long affair because he doesn't take care of it. He's nearly 17 years old, and he can't (or won't) even do this right.

I slept in today until nearly 10am. That's 2 1/2 hours after Matthew left for school. I didn't even think to glance at the medication chart to see if Midnight and Teddy had gotten their morning treatments until after 1pm, and that was when I was busy making myself some lunch. Teddy was done, but Midnight was not. Midnight's supposed to get her meds twice a day, around 8am and 8pm. This was 5 hours past that.

I'm so fed up. When my cat, TJ, was sick and dying, I cared for him round the clock. I gave him baby aspirin and massaged his paralyzed leg. I made sure he was eating. I made sure he was taking care of himself. I stayed with him as much as I could until there was no other choice but to have him put to sleep. Matthew doesn't check to see how Midnight is doing. He doesn't make sure she has her special food. Basically, he doesn't do shit for his cat unless he is yelled at repeatedly.

But somehow, I'm the one being blamed because I "suddenly stopped" giving her her meds without first notifying Matthew. This shouldn't even be an issue. Matthew should automatically assume that it's his responsibility because Midnight is his cat. Especially after I have repeatedly told him that he needs to be responsible for this and not foist it off on me. But no, even after 11 days of saying that, this is still my fault.

Matthew is such a fucking failure. He annoys the hell out of me. I wish he would just grow the fuck up. And Mom? Well she needs to grow a pair of fucking balls start actually being a mother to Matthew instead of this namby-pamby BS she's doing now.

(Dad, by the way, was in the next room. He didn't say anything throughout this whole debacle.)
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So I got a call from my doctor's office. Apparently, my health insurance won't pay for my last visit -- I had to get my white blood cell count re-checked a month and a half ago after a latent infection. Now, I know I'm covered. I've been having problems like this since I was re-admitted for coverage in June. I called the insurance company to talk to them about it. They pulled up my file and said that yes, I am covered. They directed me to call the Human Resources department of my father's company to make sure there wasn't a problem on their end. I called, gave them my information, and they confirmed that, yes, I am covered on their end as well. Next step, I called the doctor's office back and told them what I had just gone through -- both the insurance company and the HR department confirmed my coverage, so it had to be a problem on their end. I told them they needed to call the insurance company for confirmation, because this was obviously their problem. There, problem solved.

Right?

Nope.

They called me back a half hour later and left this message:

"I think there was some confusion on the information umm that I--we had exchanged today. Pretty much when I called this morning to check the status of  a claim for your uh visit on 7/14 I had informed you that the claim is on hold because the insurance the insurance is requiring a full-time student status. You do show you being covered on the plan, being an active member on the plan, but umm they won't process the claim regardless of your eligibility because they want to know if you are a full-time student which you had stated that you had graduated last year or at least early this year.  And so umm the insurance, they are not going to pay the claim because of not being able to show that you are still a full-time student. That is the information I that was given early and also I called them just now. It's not a matter of being eligible, but it's a matter of proving your full-time student status, and since you graduated, they will not be able to pay for the service."

So essentially, I'm eligible to be covered but I'm not covered because I'm not a full-time student, so I;'m ineligible? What? Methinks the insurance company needs to train their employees again. I am correct in thinking that the healthcare bill passed by Congress several months ago extended a parent's medical plan to cover and child of 26 or younger, regardless of student status, yes? We went over this months ago. Our insurance decided to be responsible by implementing this particular bit of reform with the new quarter (which started in June, I believe) on an opt-in basis. We opted in.

So why is this so hard to get right?

Really now?

May. 1st, 2010 07:43 pm
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My dad is still pouting and bitch-facing about the fight we had 8 HOURS AGO. He won't talk to me except to answer direct questions, and then it's in a completely disinterested tone. He won't respond at all to comments about how well Teddy is progressing with all the new tricks I'm teaching him, and he slammed the door and stormed out when he and Mom left for the Eagles concert an hour ago.

Seriously, grow up time is now.
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Well that was... interesting.

Mom, Matt, Dad and I were sitting at the table eating breakfast and having a fairly pleasant discussion about a bunch of different things, from PG&E being stupid, to alternative power sources, to why I had to have surgery years ago. This was peppered with comments telling Matthew to stop picking at his skin because he has sores that will get infected and develop scars if he keeps playing with them. Mom kept reminding him to stop whenever she caught him doing it, and I was giving Matt advice, since I've gone through the same thing and have been trying to stop for years. I was telling him things like "distract your hands," hold your mug or do something else to keep your hands busy so they don't wander up to you neck/face. Dad spoke up in a really annoyed tone, telling him repeatedly to stop, sounding angrier and angrier with each repetition until he was almost yelling at Matthew. This was all over something that is a habit that is very hard to break and doesn't actually directly affect Dad at all. I gently told Dad that yelling really does not help in a situation like this and that there really are better ways to handle this. I wasn't telling him what to do, I wasn't condescending, and I certainly wasn't trying to be rude. I was trying to offer advice because the only way Dad knows how to deal with things is to yell and scream and holler and carry on, and that never helps anything. The conversation returned to discussing my shoulder injury and surgery, since Matthew didn't know much about it.

Two minutes later, Dad blew up. He started screaming at me. He stood up and loomed over me, and yelled at me while standing three inches from my face. I tried to calmly interject that I really wasn't trying to be rude, that I was just trying to say that there are other ways to deal with things. He just kept screaming about how "How dare you" and "I would never say that to my parents" and on and on and on. It was very upsetting to be treated that way, but really, it wasn't very intimidating. All I could really think was, "Really? This is how you deal with this? Really? Grow up." Mom interjected that this is why she never says anything. She's afraid that he'll start screaming at her. It's happened in the past. Matthew had stormed out of the room after Dad started yelling at him for picking at his skin. I left to talk to Matthew, who was obviously upset. I tried to tell him ways to diffuse tension before it builds and explodes. Simple things like doing what you're asked either right away or within a reasonable amount of time.

Then I told him about when I was in so much pain because of my shoulder injury, and I was trying to tell my parents that I needed help, but I was being brushed off and ignored because I was "exaggerating." I got so frustrated that my pain wasn't being taken seriously, so I resorted to stronger language to get my point across. Dad blew up and told me to go to my room, but Mom said no, you need to listen to her. Dad has a history of not listening and blowing up when issues are put in his face. It's upsetting and frustrating.

Really though, yelling in my face? Not intimidating. Grow up.
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"Separation of church and state" is apparently a one-way street. I am so tired of churches screaming foul and making a bunch of noise when there's even the slightest hint -- however factual, exaggerated, or just plain made up -- that "their rights" as a religious organization might be infringed upon(1), then turning around and pushing crap legislation through Congress(2).

Let me get this straight: The government cannot interfere with churches one way or the other, but churches (especially of the Catholic denomination) can interfere with the government all they want? I'm not a religious person in any sense of that word. That said, I am a moral person. I believe in being the best person I can be for the sake of bettering myself and the world around me, not in hopes of getting into heaven or avoiding hellfire. I am generous with my time: I volunteered at the Orange County Zoo until my financial situation forbade the commute, and I am now looking into volunteering at a local animal shelter. I donate to causes: I donate goods to Good Will, food to food banks, and money to organizations. I am a nice, good person. I don't steal things or abuse others. I try my darndest to treat everyone I meet with love and respect. I think I'm doing pretty well for myself and I would appreciate it very much if the church would stop sticking its nose in my business. I am not in a position to take care of a baby at this point, let alone a pregnant me. I have no job, no healthcare, and I can barely pay my rent and utilities every month. There is absolutely no way I could afford all the prenatal care that is "required" nowadays, let alone hospital bills and food, clothes, and toys for a baby. I do everything within my power, short of abstinence, to make sure I won't get pregnant, but if I do, an abortion would be far less costly than everything I just mentioned. I wouldn't enjoy it, but I'd probably say bye-bye to the fetus. Sorry, but that's the reality. I don't need these holier-than-thou types blocking access to what would be pretty much a necessary procedure.

Churches, whether Catholic, Christian, Mormon, Islamic, Buddhist, Hindi, Shinto, Taoist, Wiccan or whathaveyou, do not have a place in making that decision for the masses. Their place lies in mentoring their congregation and guiding them to pick the "right" choice. But no, they're working to take away that choice altogether, and that's not right.

I conclusion, LEAVE YOUR BIBLE OUT OF MY UTERUS.

(1) Most recently, I'm referring to the Prop 8 versus Church fiasco, where churches (most notably Mormon) claimed that they would lose some rights or government funding or some such nonsense if gays were allowed to marry under the law but the church refused to perform the service.
(2) The U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops played a large role in forcing the anti-choice abortion Stupak Amendment in the House and released a letter to senators Monday urging passage of Nelson's anti-choice abortion amendment, contending that without it, the bill "violates this moral principle" against federal funding of elective abortions. (
Abortion emerges as obstacle in health care debate)
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Ahahaha. I just found out that Tatiana has a blogspot. First thing I saw: "People need to be kinder to one another." Uh yeah, starting with you being kinder towards your mother. From what I've read, she sounds kind of pretentious. I especially laughed when she cited some lady who was nice to her at a store as a "really good person." Honey, that doesn't make her a really good person, it just means she was nice to you. A "really good person" is someone who goes out of their way to help someone even if their help has not been specifically requested. For example: people who work with Habitat for Humanity or Amnesty International; people who go out and help other unknown people make home improvements; people who dedicate time to wildlife and environmental conservation without need for a "thanks" of any kind -- those are "great" people. Someone who holds the door for you is not necessarily great, merely nice.

Maybe that's not what she meant, but it's how I read it. Seriously though, if you want to see some improvement in the world, start by improving yourself. I'm looking at you, Tati.
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Tatiana really makes me want to slap her. Hard.

She can be cool and fun, and then she can turn around in an instant and turn into a bitchy brat. She's always been this way with her mother -- her mother who has done everything for her, from feeding to cleaning to chauffeuring her around town and giving her money whenever she put her hand out for the last 19 years. Sandy did all this for her, her daughter, then Tatiana turns around and tells her what a horrible mother she is for the slightest "infraction." She got better for a while after her parents separated and Sandy moved out -- and Juan's girlfriend basically moved in. Tatiana started hanging out with her mother a lot more and seemed to treat her better than ever, though still not great. Sometime in the last few months though, she mostly reverted to her old behavior. She'll make plans with her mother to go out, then call and cancel because she's sick -- only when her mother called to check up on her, she'd gone out with her friends! And when Sandy has to reject Tatiana's plans because she's too busy, Tatiana gets unreasonably upset. "Pissed off," as Sandy describes it. Now she's yelling at Sandy in public about taking Juan's money (which he owes her, by the way, and why Juan is telling Tatiana about this is beyond me) and in general acting like the spoiled brat she is.

Not only has she reverted, she's getting worse. She's targeting me and Dan now, too.

Dan and I went to his dad's house on Thursday evening after Thanksgiving dinner. We didn't eat anything that night because we were still pretty stuffed from Thanksgiving. The next morning, we slept in late (got up at 11am) and had leftovers for breakfast, then we got dressed and went to his mom's condo. We hung out with her for a bit, then Tatiana showed up. The first words out of her mouth were "What's for dinner." Not a question. A demand. Keep in mind that this is a 19-almost-20-year-old. Sandy replied that she was going out with friends, and Dan and I sure as hell weren't going to cook for her, not with that entitled attitude. So Tatiana sat there sulking while Sandy wrapped a birthday present for Bailey (a neighbor girl that Sandy cared for). Sandy asked Tatiana to deliver the gift on Saturday since Sandy would be out of town and thus unable to give it to Bailey herself. (Sandy has very good reasons why she would rather avoid that family, reasons which Tatiana likely knows but thinks her mom made up.) Tatiana completely refused to do this one simple thing for her mother and implied that Sandy had abandoned Bailey by moving out, and that Bailey wouldn't remember Sandy and and and. SHUT UP ALREADY. So Sandy merely asked Dan and I to deliver it, and we graciously said we would. Tatiana sulked around for a few minutes longer, steadfastly ignored by the three of us, then she gave up on her quest for attention and left. The gift left with her.

Sandy had to leave after that, so Dan and I went out. We came back to the house armed with a CPK frozen pizza and salad fixings for dinner. After making our no-mess dinner, we headed upstairs to watch Die Hard and eat. Tatiana annouced that if Dan loaded our dishes in the dishwasher, she would run it and put them away. Sounds reasonable, right? Wrong. The kitchen sink was full of dishes. Literally two bowls, two mugs and two forks were ours from dinner. We had none from making dinner aside from a knife used to cut the tomatoes and pizza. I just washed our dishes while Dan was busy elsewhere and left it at that. We once again woke up late on Saturday (~10am this time). Dan had Thanksgiving leftovers again, and I had microwave taquitos. I washed all of our dishes from breakfast as well as any that I had missed from the night before. When I finished, the sink was still pretty well stacked with dishes, but they weren't ours. Tatiana once again bugged us to "do our dishes." We ignored her (because they were already done) and left for the day to celebrate out anniversary. When we got back to the house Sunday morning, Tatiana came thudding downstairs while we were eating and announced "You better have done the dishes!" like we were wayward children ignoring their mother's instructions. When she walked in and saw that the sink was still full, she told us that we were "the worst houseguests ever." I replied "most hosts don't expect their guests to do chores" and went on to explain that they weren't ours and that they had in fact been sitting in the sink since before we arrived at the house on Thursday evening. Her response was, "well they're not mine" (like that automatically made them our responsibility??). I just... I'm flabbergasted that she treated us like stupid children when she can't seem to take care of anything by herself -- and she's almost 20 years old!
In short, Tatiana needs to get off her fucking high horse and live in the real world where she has responsibilities and respect for both of her parents.

Key:
Tatiana = Dan's little sister
Sandy = Dan's mom
Juan = Dan's dad
Sandra = Dan's older sister
Matt = Dan's brother-in-law, Sandra's husband

Argh I really don't feel like this post conveys how Tatiana actually acts on a daily basis. Her behavior, especially towards her mother, is appalling. Literally everything that goes wrong is her mothers fault whether or not it actually is, and Tatiana has no compunction about making the world know all her mother's supposed faults and how horrible her mother is and how her mother has failed her this time. She also enjoys telling Sandy how dumb, annoying, and embarassing she is. I would have been dead meat if I'd ever spoken to my mother like that, but Tatiana gets away with it scott free. It is absolutely apalling. I really want to call her on her behavior, but I feel like that's out of line since she's neither my sister nor my friend.
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I woke up at nearly 3 this morning to Pauline having sex. IN THE SAME DAMN ROOM. How rude can this girl get?

This situation is ridiculous. I'm going to talk to Xiomara about it and see if she'll help me with an "intervention."


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So, after finally getting into my room, I took a shower. I had to try to dry off and get dressed in the muggy bathroom because Miss Dumbass and her boyfriend were still in the bedroom. So, after dressing, I went to the closed bedroom door, opened it, and walked in. Persilla Queen of the Desert was half naked (getting dressed), and her boyfriend was fully dressed. I ignored them, but as I went to my dresser to put some clothes away, I heard her boyfriend say in a low voice (though plenty loud for me to hear, as I was standing five feet from him): "Something tells me that we'll be the jerks who just walk in." Uh, excuse me, jackass? You've been monopolizing MY bedroom for four hours now, and you're mad at me for walking into my unlocked bedroom. Fuck you, dirtwad.

Ugh I've really had enough of these two idiots.


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This is getting ridiculous. Persilla Queen of the Desert (aka Pauline) has decided that it is quite all right to lock me out of the room any time she chooses so that she can have sex. This has happened at least five times in the last week.

On Sunday, I got up somewhat early (8-9 am) and went into the living room so I wouldn't bother her or her boyfriend who were still asleep in the bedroom. They woke up soon after that and locked the door and started having sex while I was in the living room. I wasn't even dressed for the day yet. I had to go knock on the door to be allowed into my own room so I could get my clothes and leave. Well, I left the door open because I would be going in and out for a bit while getting prepared for the day. I walked in through the OPEN bedroom door and walked right in on her going down on him. Fortunately, the blanket was strategically placed so I didn't see much of him, but I got an eyeful of her fat ass. Seriously?? The door was OPEN, dipshit!

After coming home from the gym today, the bedroom door was wide open. Turns out, they were napping. Fine, whatever. But now, I'm locked out of my room AGAIN while they have sex AGAIN. Once or twice is fine. But nearly every day? Enough is enough. I get that this is a relatively new relationship, but still. Some basic courtesy would be appreciated: a) don't lock me out of the room that we share while I'm home, b) don't have sex on my furniture (which I know they've done at least 2 or 3 times), and c) don't have sex while I'm home!! My sex life has suffered because I follow all three of this guidelines. I hate that it has, but I value some semblance of peace in the apartment. I really want to start violating all of these "guidelines" all the time, just to show her how rude it is.

What would you do if you were in the same situation, flist?


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I went to bed slightly early last night because I planned to go to the zoo this morning (so I had to get up around 6 am to be there by 7:30 am). At some point, Xiomara came in (with her boyfriend) to go to sleep. I didn't hear a sound. Apparently around that time, my cat got let out of the room and shut out. So, around 3:30 am I was woken up be some determined scratching at the carpet in front of the bedroom door. I opened it to let the cat it, and left the door open so she could come and go as needed. I figured that, since the apartment was dark and it was nearly 4 am, everyone was already settled for the night so there would be no one thumping around to wake me up. Boy, was I wrong.

Around 4 am, I was woken up by the sound of gasping coming from the living room. pauline was having sex (I believe she was on my couch*, eww). I drifted off at some point, absolutely mortified that my couch was being defiled by pauline. They stopped not too long after that and came in the bedroom to go to bed. They came in, scuffing their feet and chatting. I woke up. Again. pauline fiddled with her phone (not on silent) and climbed in to her noisy bed with some guy  who I can only assume to be her boyfriend. Then they proceeded to carry on a "whispered" conversation about something or other. I got feed up because they were keeping me awake when I really needed to get some sleep, so I spoke up: "You guys really aren't as quiet as you think you are." That made them be quiet. For all of a minute and a half. By this point, Dan had been awake for quite some time, too (which is usually pretty hard to do, so you know they were making noise; it wasn't just me), and he made some moaning/groaning/annoyed/stfu noise. So I said something to the effect of: "either stop talking or leave the room." Her reply? Use earplugs. ?!? So I just said, "Fuck off, I have to get up early tomorrow." She finally got quiet and went to sleep. By this time it was nearly 5 am, and I was wide awake. I ended up dozing at some point, not really asleep, until my alarm went off at 6:10 am. I lost 2+ hours of sleep due to pauline's selfishness.

I
NEED TO MOVE OUT. Now, pls. kthx.

*When I got up this morning, the couch was in complete disarray. Yes, they were fucking on it. Ewww. Anyone have some couch disinfectant?
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I am seriously Unimpressed with Thursday. The nurse at the student health clinic did a terrible job taking my weight and overshot by a minimum of ten pounds (apparently she doesn't know how to work a scale?), talked to me while taking my blood pressure (which no nurse has ever done in the history of ever), got a very brief history of my problem, and rushed me off to another room, where she told me to take off my pants and put on a gown so the doctor could take a look at my lower back. I started to comply, even though I thought it odd. I was wearing low-rise pants, so my back was perfectly accessible just by lifting up my top. I decided, after taking off my shoes that it was a  ridiculous request and I would not abide by it. In the end, it didn't matter. My (young) doctor came in and briefly asked me about my problem. He then proceeded to poke the length of my spine and test my reflexes. He didn't find any abnormalities (thank god). He handed my a sheaf of papers descibing lower back pain and exercises and stretches that I could do to help. He had decided what was wrong before he even saw me. When I noted that I do several of the stretches regularly, and that they don't do any good because I'm too flexible, he dismissed it and told me to do the exercises. Without checking my flexibility. Then he gave me another paper for the cashier and left. The cashier is another story entirely. I arrived at the desk with the paper and checkbook in hand. The sole clerk hiding behind the glass was entering some paperwork in the computer didn't even glance in my direction. After a polite interval had passed, in which I was still resolutely ignored, I started writing out the check. Her only comment was to make it out to UC Regents. I had to ask her what the charge was. I slid the check under the glass along with the paper. She took it, again without looking at me, and continued with her work, completely ignoring my papers and the fact that I was still standing there. I had to ask her for a recept. She finally looked at me as if this were some novel idea, ran my check, gave me the receipt, and immediately dismissed me. I am completely flabbergasted at the utter lack of courtesy and customer service present in every step of my visit to the health clinic. I am currently looking for a way to lodge a complaint against the clinic. We may be students, but we are still paying customers and should be treated well, not dealt with brusquely and dismissed. UGH.

The other spot of major disappointment with the day is in regards to the grade I received on my physiology lab report. Of all the four or so lab reports I've written in the past, I have always gotten an A-, minimum. This one? Below average. C. WTF. I requested the return of my paper and asked the professor to explain what I did wrong. His response? My introduction wasn't long enough, I didn't include enough in the methods section, I didn't fully answer all the questions that he posed us, my discussion could have contained more in-depth analysis and comparisons of the results. He said all of this without even looking, without even glancing at my paper. How he remembered in exactly what ways my particular paper failed out of the 71+ that he had to grade, I don't know. Oh, and my introduction? Was two pages long. My methods section? Any other TA would have said it was too in-depth for a lab report. The questions that he asked? Were ridiculously hard to answer. That graph I left out was never requested, yet it cost me two points. The professor has two or three different versions of the lab report "guidelines" posted, all of which contradict each other at least once. Essentially, I feel like I was expected to read his mind in order to get a good grade. His exams are the same way--a correct answer isn't enough, you have to provide more than you think is necessary. Sometimes I think he misinterprets things on purpose so he can deduct points. All in all, I am sorely disappointed with this professor. I am seriously considering emailing him to request a re-grade and include a list of reasons why I deserved a better grade. I have never ever received a below-average grade on any writing assignment, ever, so this is driving me more than a little insane.
nohanii: (Default)
Regarding the last post: Honestly, do you guys think I'm overreacting? Sometimes I feel like I am, but then when I don't react like this I feel like a pushover. I don't want to come across as bitchy, but I don't want to be a doormat either.

It seems like the only way to make peace in this house is to strike a compromise. We currently have three cars, but the leasing office will only give two spots (a reserved spot and a parking permit) to each apartment.  I've come up with an idea: this week I get the spot, Xiomara has the permit, Pauline is screwed, then we rotate next week and the week after. That way, everyone is equally inconvenienced. The only thing is, I am completely convinced that I deserve to have a guaranteed parking spot every day due to my enormous contributions to the apartment as a whole (versus their contributions to themselves). I have provided all of the furniture in the apartment except for their beds (which Nicole provided) and their dressers. The couch, dining room table, chairs, recliner, coffee table, rugs, TV stand, TVs, pots and pans, cooking utensils... all of that came from me. I was the one who got all the artwork and put it up to make the apartment feel more like a home than a dorm room. I am the one who's responsible for keeping track of all the bills and paying them on time. I seem to be the only one capable of cleaning the apartment on a regular basis. Pauline will sometimes run the dishwasher, but it seems like I'm the only one to ever put the clean dishes away. They aren't even capable of paying me the rent and utilities money when I request it (ex: I asked for it on Monday night, and I still haven't received it. I have to hand in a rent check on Monday!). Based on all of this (plus the fact that Pauline routinely steals my food), I believe that I am entitled to one thing. ONE thing, that's all I ask. That one thing happens to be the parking spot. That one thing is one thing that Pauline won't give me. So, what would you do if you were in my position (be honest!)? Do I actually deserve the spot? Should I propose the compromise that I came up with? If I don't, I'll have to worry about Pauline stealing my spot every single time I have to go somewhere, unless I can make her understand that I (in my mind) deserve that reserved parking spot. 

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Catherine

August 2011

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