The scant optimism I had at the end of last week is gone.

There was a misunderstanding–the supervisor at Mohela thought the message from Navient about putting the application through on Friday meant that the loans would be de-coupled on that day.

She was mistaken and called me to apologize.

She said her supervisor said we should hear about my application within the month.

The woman I talked to at Navient, however, said it could take up to a year. She also said they were almost never approved. Navient doesn’t get to make the decision; the DOE does.

I was also able to find out why my payments are scheduled to go up so much, from under $200 a month to over $1700. The consolidation means that I’m not eligible for the income-based plan I was on before. I can’t afford the new plan, of course.

Yesterday, I had a consultation with a student loan specialist; his full time job is getting people out of student loan jams. He said there was nothing he could do to help me. Unless the loans are de-consolidated, I’m fucked. He said that the DOE almost never de-consolidates, but that if there was ever a case that merited it, this was it. He said if they don’t, I should hire an attorney, since someone at the PSLF division told me to consolidate when I called to ask if I should actually follow that step. The PSLF person has to have known that he was telling me to do something that would ruin my chances for a PSLF.

The consultant didn’t charge me for our call; he felt too sorry for me. He also asked me to tell him what happens either way. He’s invested in the saga.

I had a stomach ache in the hours leading up to the call. A tightness in my chest and stomach remains. I keep swinging between numbness and crying.

So what now?

If I haven’t heard anything from the DOE by October, when student loan payments resume, I will have to try to explain to the system that they shouldn’t base my repayments on what I made last year.

The last few years, I’ve been killing myself by working 2+ jobs. 7 classes at Davis + 3 freshman seminars + 3 summer classes + the grad class in Forensics + 3-5 Los Rios classes a year + scoring for IB and AWPE + my books. And that’s the paid labor.

I’ve been doing this to finally pay off my medical and consumer debt, which happened a couple of months ago. I also wanted to finally have a little bit in savings, so I could handle the next pet emergency, the next car repair, without going into hock.

It’s vital, though, that I scale back, both for my health and because I fear I will become bitter about the extra classes if they become tied to this almost a quarter of a million dollars consolidation mistake.

I never want to lose the joy in teaching.

By bringing my income back down to where I’m living month to month, in fear of every high air conditioner bill, I might be able to reduce the monthly payment to 1200 a month. I would scrape by like that for 10 years before asking if whatever remained on my tab might finally be forgiven.

Again, this assumes the DOE punishes me for following their instructions.

Of course, this isn’t all that’s happening this week. I need to see my gyno about the bleeding, but won’t be able to until August 19th. I think I’m looking at some kind of procedure down there, but I don’t know what.

Our power keeps going out for a few hours at a time.

I was supposed to have a date this weekend, but I called it off. I’m dealing with too much to handle dating right now.

But I am walking everyday. I’m up to 2.5 miles.

And I’m still enjoying showing you wrap pictures.

This has been quite a week.

As you’re all aware, the Department of Education is behaving terribly. Mohela said they would help. I don’t think I’ll be able to fully release the breath I’ve been holding since Tuesday until I can *see* that my loans have been de-consolidated on all of the websites.

And then the fun of figuring out the next step will begin.

But that’s not all that’s happened this week.

A beloved colleague died.

I learned that a family member has cancer.

A student said something hyperbolic in an email about suicide, which meant many hours of talking to her and to the powers that could help her.

It’s incredibly hot. The kind of hot where you feel rather ill even in an air-conditioned room.

The highest percentage of students ever failed my untimed, open-everything library quiz. After reading a chapter on how to research and watching a screen capture video I made specific to our library, students are asked to find a nonacademic source, a book, and a peer-reviewed article on The Simpsons. The instructions specifically tell them not to find me something about OJ Simpson, Jessica Simpson, the Simpson’s paradox, etc. So when a third of my students linked to an article about the Simpson’s paradox, I cut and pasted the instructions into the comments, to explain why they got a zero on that question.

I then sent out an announcement about it.

A couple of days later, I got an email from a student who said she didn’t understand my comment or why she was marked wrong. She explained that “the Simpson’s paradox” was in the title of the article, so how was she wrong?!?

In three weeks, these students will be done with the last writing/research class most of them will ever be asked to take.

I had to see my gyno’s colleague because of more issues with bleeding (this will apparently be “Summer of Blood 2: The Bloodening”). When I was getting checked in, the receptionist asked if I wanted to pop back for the allergy shots I was supposed to get the next day, so I only had to come once. Then, the allergy nurse said I needed to meet the new allergy doc, so she could refill my prescription, and asked if I wanted to do that after I saw the gyno. And then the nurse appeared, having to wait for all the shots to go in (there are four, and they’re complicated). It took me a moment, though, in the exam room, to figure out he was trying to check me in for the allergy appointment first. So we had to find the other nurse to take me to the right room.

And the gyno said no sex for a month.

What’s been good?

I started Blindspotting on Starz; it’s beautiful. I wish I had the dance vocabulary to talk about some of the physical work they do on the show. The slam poetry they incorporate is fantastic too. Highly recommended.

Dante stopped watching Schitt’s Creek last year, after a break up, but this week I used my horrible mental health to explain why we had to go back in. And now he’s seen the whole series.

I got to take Melissa to Tapa the World to celebrate her birthday.

I got to make a Mexican feast for a couple of friends last night.

The main thing, though, that has gotten my through this week is the outpouring of support that I’ve gotten from you. So many of you offered to help. So many of you gave your sympathy, love, and prayers.

I am immensely blessed to have you all in my life.

And so, for you, another new wrap pic:

I spent a lot of time today writing and revising a letter to my representatives about what happened with the DOE.
And I never really stopped crying or feeling sick.
But I just got a call from Mohela, my loan servicer.
They said THE LOANS WILL BE DE-CONSOLIDATED!
Will I have to start the TEPSLF paperwork all over again? Not sure. Do I fear something will still go wrong? Yes. Might the TEPSLF request still be denied? Yup.
Am I still going to demand my representatives make the DOE TEPSLF page crystal clear about NOT consolidating your loans if you have made even one qualifying payment?
You bet your ass I am!

Putting myself through 4 degrees with a kid was not easy, and even though I had some scholarships, I still came out of everything owing 133,733.

I started paying back my loans in 2007. When I got near the 10-year mark, I contacted my servicer about the Public Service Loan Forgiveness program. They said none of my payments were eligible, since I was on the wrong plan. They moved me to a different plan, one in which I was paying less somehow, and my 10-year clock started again.

As of a few months ago, I have paid back over 88,744.

With interest, what I owed in March: $154,213.

I was getting nowhere, due to interest.

A colleague was recently on the phone with DOE, and they told her about a new form they had for people like me–people who had paid the same or more on a plan that arbitrarily didn’t count. They were letting some of those payments count in the 10 years, since they admitted the system had been confusing.

So I went to the DOE website for people like me. Step 1: They wanted me to consolidate my loans. I had a small Parent Loan. I didn’t see how that could count for forgiveness, so I tried to submit the form without consolidating.

A giant red box told me I really shouldn’t skip that step.

I called and asked. The man said the Parent Loan could be forgiven if I consolidated.

So I did.

I got encouraging paperwork from the DOE, saying it looked like I had indeed made payments that should be considered. They just needed Mohela, the loan servicer, to tell them exactly how much I’d paid and when.

But then I was talking to Mohela today, and they thought I was a brand-new customer with a brand new loan.

By consolidating, my old loans disappeared, along with the 14 years of monthly payments I’d made.

By consolidating, which the PSLF program told me to do, I effectively erased 100% of the progress I’d made toward forgiveness.

The woman at DOE said I should have read everything more closely.

And I will always admit that we should read things more closely.

But it also seems to me that on a page specifically designed for people who believe they have made qualifying payments toward forgiveness, you should not encourage people to consolidate, unless you’re trying to screw them over.

Maybe what needed to be in big red letters was: hey, if you consolidate, we won’t consider any of your loan history at all, and you’ll be fucked, so skip Step 1.

Today, I owe 158,569.

If I’m on the “right” kind of payment plan for PSLF for the foreseeable future, they want me to pay almost 1,800 a month for the next ten years.

I can’t really afford that, especially since my health demands that I stop working more than one job. That’s more than my rent.

Also, since it will be 10 years, I will not be eligible for any loan forgiveness, ever.

I will pay 222,108 in those 10 years, meaning that by the time this is all done, on the plan they have in mind for me, I will have paid 310,852 since 2007, for taking out 133,733 for myself and about 4000 for Dante. The government will receive 172,119 in interest.

I managed to stop crying today long enough to hold office hours, but I know I’m not done yet.

Mohela, the loan servicer, was at least sympathetic when I talked to them today. They are filing a petition to decouple the loans, now that I have a full understanding of what coupling did.

That petition may be turned down.

I’m not feeling optimistic. Instead, I’m beating myself up for not understanding their terms. I’m nauseated, angry, and exhausted.

I’ve been mostly nose to the grindstone this week, which means I have the syllabus and first week ready for my two Summer Session 2 courses that start in a month and that I’m caught on the course running now.

Someone close to me got some wonderful news that’s had me smiling all week, but it’s not mine to share.

Friday night, though, sucked.

I’ve started talking to a few people on Bumble, and Saturday night, I was supposed to have my first first date in two years. I put got relatively gussied up and went to the bar. I got there a little early, so I texted him that I had a table in the back and settled in the back.

He never showed.

It was surprising, since he had texted a few times that day about how excited he was to meet me.

After waiting 45 minutes, I messaged, “not coming?” And then I headed home.

He blocked me instead of answering.

Was he just playing games? Did he chicken out?

Naturally, the negative voice in my head has a lot to say about this. She’s sure he came, he saw, and he decided I’m too fat to even be polite to over a drink.

For the record, she’s been saying I’m too fat for love for the last sixty pounds, and before that, she said I was too flat chested and single-mothery.

But I am overweight, and the fact that I’m getting healthier and losing weight doesn’t shut her up.

I wasn’t overly invested in this guy, but that doesn’t take away the sting.

I hate that the negative voice will be able to feed on this for the foreseeable future.

Luckily, I did get my first first date yesterday–a mini one, since it was last minute and I had other dinner plans–with a guy who doesn’t seem to be a player, a chicken, or an asshole.

In other news, my first two wraps are here, after Facebook told me to splurge.

Today, I’m exhausted, so I’m trying to rest up before tomorrow starts another long week, watching Ragnarok on Netflix.

First, the horrifying news: a former student was abducted and murdered in Russia. We were no longer in contact, but my mind conjured her the second I saw her name. She was an extraordinary young woman.

My 304th class began–and advanced writing course at SCC (asynchronous). A few students are already awesome, and a few are already getting on my nerves, due to the inability to go a few hours without emailing me about something they could totally find themselves. I got the whole course loaded–all six weeks are set up on Canvas. And this week I start figuring out my two UCD courses that start just as the SCC one ends.

The Sacramento French Film Festival was this week, so I watched nine films and all the shorts. I also managed to finish the latest season of American Gods and Nghi Vo’s The Chosen and the Beautiful. My brain wants to write nine papers about the former, and I’m glad the latter is part of The Bloggess’s book club, because I need to talk about it. It is beautifully written, but there’s one bold choice that I just don’t get/appreciate. Without giving anything away, I’ll just say that a metaphor becomes literalized in a jarring way that doesn’t really add anything (for me).

I discovered this recipe for skillet enchiladas, and I will never roll enchiladas up and stick them into a hot oven again.

I was part of the judging for Prized Writing (and had another student win), got to celebrate the end of the year with my union, and had a productive end-of-year meeting with the Stand Up Club.

My body has not been helpful at all this week, but I’m back up to 45 minutes on my walk.

I also created a Bumble profile. I’m not really doing anything with it yet. I realize that as things open up, I’ll want to have someone to go to events with–and while I have lots of friends for that, it might be nice to have sex after an event every once in a while.

I’m still hesitant, though, about dating again. It’s often such a demoralizing hassle. And I don’t think I’m looking for anything long-term right now.

I’m pretty sure the writer, directors, and producers of Avenue 5 aren’t psychic. They’re probably just as surprised as anyone that their show, which was conceived in 2017 and premiered on January 19th, 2020 (HBO), is the perfect media mirror for pandemic America.

[Spoilers follow–most are revealed in the first episode. Since it’s a black comedy, you knowing a few things in advance shouldn’t spoil the enjoyment.]

Avenue 5 is a starship/cruise ship. In this future, NASA exists, but passengers have embarked on an eight-month journey on a private enterprise venture. Josh Gadd plays Herman Judd, owner of Judd Galaxy and a not-so-thinly-veiled parody of Trump. (He’s an idiot, he worships himself, he thinks all decorating should be gold, etc.)

The thirty second commercial for his cruise can be seen here, to give you an idea.

Unluckily for him, and perhaps even more unfortunately for his passengers, he’s aboard this ship when they get thrown off course. They quickly learn it’s going to take three and a half years to get home (not that they have enough supplies for that).

Can Captain Jordan Hatwal (Hugh Laurie) save them?

Absolutely not, and not because he’s an incompetent captain in the way that Judd is an incompetent businessman.

Hatwal is an actor, playing a captain, complete with toupee and fake accent. His job is to inspire confidence, which would be relatively easy if the ship were sailing smoothly. It’s much harder when reality and Judd’s antics work against him.

It was eerie to watch this last year, with the pandemic in full swing. When classes first went online in March, and we were all supposed to stay home, we thought it might be for a few weeks. Soon after, as we started to see the numbers, we realized that the end of isolation wasn’t in sight. I lost sleep thinking about everything I needed to prepare for my son in case I got sick, in case my damaged asthmatic lungs succumbed to the virus.

To say I empathized with the ship’s passengers is an understatement. There I was, in seclusion with my son, worried about dwindling supplies and dwindling sanity, watching confused and terrified and isolated people who didn’t know when or if they would make it.

Did that make the show any less funny? Nope. I love this show–it’s hilarious. The cast is amazing. My favorites are Zach Woods, as the nihilistic Head of Consumer Relations, and Himesh Patel, as the ship’s beleaguered stand-up comic.

My students are working on a time capsule assignment this term–if they had to pick one piece of media to put into a time capsule, what would it be? What captures us?

Here’s why Avenue 5 would go into mine.

1. The obvious comparison between the plight of the passengers and the plight of the world in the pandemic.
2. Judd as Trump, for the same reason. Take this Judd quote: “You know how you make things happen? You find someone who’ll say it can happen, and then you make them say it. That’s how they built the pyramids.” You can picture Trump saying that, right?
3. Because the characters have problems connecting with their friends and families back home, and because they can’t physically be with them and because of the lag. Watching Judd get frustrated when there’s a lag with his team back on Earth will be familiar to anyone who had to learn Zoom really fast and had to work with people who aren’t fast learners.
4. There’s a Karen. A literal Karen. Her name is Karen Kelly, in fact, which is funny in my house because of a particularly troublesome neighbor named Kelly. Is Karen Kelly everything a Karen meme promises? Yes. And more.
5. There’s mansplaining. And people who call it out.
6. Staff who actually know what they’re doing are constantly undermined by their asinine bosses, much as Dr. Fauci and all of the other scientists were undermined by Trump and the GOP.
7. The characters struggle, and relationships fall apart under the strain, as happened in quarantine.
8. Women of color have their work and victories appropriated by white men.
9. There’s classism.
10. There’s scapegoating.
11. Some of the passengers begin to think the ship’s tragedy is a hoax. Rather than listen to the (admittedly problematic) leaders, they decide they’re actually on Earth, on a prank show. Much as Boris Johnson went to a hospital and touched infected patients without using PPE to show he wasn’t “afraid” of Covid (and then got Covid and ended up in the ICU), some passengers try to prove their conspiracy theory by going out of the airlock. And they die.

Armando Iannucci‘s satire of human nature under stress is spot on.

My 304th class starts tomorrow. I tried to rest a bit this week, and I did pretty well. The you-must-be-productive-always voice in my head did pressure me to get some things done, like getting rid of some useless recipe books and filing some recipes I did want to keep, but plenty of things went uncleaned, unfiled, undone.

The Sacramento French Film Festival started, and most of it’s virtual, so I’ve already watched several of their films and shorts. I’ve also discovered Netflix’s great series Feel Good, finished Lupin, The Handmaid’s Tale, Kim’s Convenience, and The Kominsky Method, read a bunch of New Yorkers and sci-fi novels (the former on the hammock), watched Kevin Kline and Meryl Streep in Dear Elizabeth (a virtual staged reading), and decided that the music editor on Loki jumped the gun by using “Holding Out for Hero” in episode 2–it’s a boss-fight song, as we know from Shrek 2, so it needs to come later, when the first two lines will have a lot of significance in a confrontation that’s surely coming.

Dante and I also stumbled across a great pre-code comedy yesterday, Design for Living. A woman can’t choose between two suitors, so she lives with both of them, but they all keep violating their “gentlemen’s agreement” on “no sex.”

It’s been terribly hot (think 109), but I’ve managed to walk every day, even though it meant get up much earlier than I needed to on my week off.

I tried a few new recipes–one great curry, a nice asian sauteed spinach, and one so-so curry. I’ve got a new chicken recipe in the crock pot now. And this was also the week I had my first air-fried okra of the season.

Finally, I invited Facebook and Twitter to pressure me into buying a few wraps/kimonos. They obliged.

Happy Pride, Solstice, Juneteenth, and Father’s Day Weekend!

Here’s a picture of me, wanting to imitate my (Grand)Daddy and using Mr. Potato Head’s pipe to do so.

I told my son that I was going to try to take this week relatively off. He’s skeptical, since I’m a workaholic.

I told him I wanted to binge more, to read more, and to walk more.

“Well, there’s only so much walking you can do,” he said, acknowledging both my back and the epic heat we’re in for this week.

Yesterday, I got up early, started a podcast, and headed out. My back has been tolerating about 35 minutes of walking lately, but I decided to add on another 10.

This morning, I woke up with two new blisters on the ball of my left foot.

I still went for my walk, but it was slower, and I’m back down to 35 minutes.

The universe is clear: it wants me to die early, fat, and hypertensive.