"Son of a shit bitches! Crap weasels motherfucker bastard fuck shitsville!" I yelled whilest cooking the other day. You see, I burned myself on the pan. Not very badly, but I didn't realize that right away. So I did what I always do when surprised or suddenly injured -- cussed like a crazy person.

Today I was too blown away to come up with too many swear words. Today, I just felt bewildered...

I don't know what happened. Everything was great. I got to relax. I got to see Beth this afternoon. I got to talk to my sweet little neighbor (who is probably ten years old) about Harry Potter after I picked up the mail.

And then I got inside my apartment, and read the mail. And this is what I read:

Dear Meghan,

Thank you for the opportunity to review your application for admission to Cal Poly Pomona. After careful evaluation of your application, we have determined that you do not meet the requirements for admission at this time.

There's more, but the rest is irrelevant. I called my mom who was not home, and left a message. I promptly burst into tears.

Because you see, it's not just that I got rejected from this one university. It's that the university I very much want to attend also owes me a letter of either acceptance or rejection, and seeing as how it has essentially the same exact requirements as Pomona, I am left wondering how on earth I'll get accepted. In fact, I'm left considering the distinct probability that I won't.

FUCK. Fuck Biology. Damn it! Why didn't I apply for Psych??! I got accepted to UCLA twice when I applied as a Psych major. WHY did I apply for Bio last Fall? WHY didn't I get accepted under Biology at Pomona?! I can't believe this! I feel so stupid!

I keep trying to come up with a solid plan to get my Bachelor's, and it keeps not working. I'm happy I was away from school for a while to learn so much about dog behavior at the humane society. I'm happy I've done pet-sitting. I'm happy I've spent so much time at the wildlife center. But I'm ready to be back in school now and finish my degree so that I can actually work in a job that will be my career. This matters to me, and I feel like I'm grasping at my educational goals, which keep slipping just out of reach.

I don't want another rejection letter. I just want someone to say, "Yes please, come to our university, enjoy yourself, and graduate!" I hate that I got my hopes up, and that so many people who heard the schools I applied to responded, "Oh, you'll get in," with such an air of confidence that I really, truly expected nothing else.

To make matters worse, I sat down at my computer and there was an email from my supervisor regarding my upcoming incredibly cool class. It's a four week long class (that meets once a week) about DOGS, in which the children learn the differences between wild dogs and domestic dogs. The best part? A real live dog in every class!!! Of my own choosing!! Could this class be more me??? In fact, when I was told that the first teacher in charge of this class got another job and that I was the back-up person, I jumped for joy! I beamed. I was SO excited.

As you can imagine, I was a little bummed that my trip to JournalCon in Austin prevents me from teaching the final class. But, I knew they could get a sub, and I'd get to teach the other three classes, right? So I emailed my supervisor and awaited her response, which I got as I sat down at my computer, immediately after reading the letter from Cal Poly.

Basically my supervisor's email said, "Oh oops, it turns out the new job that our First Choice Teacher got doesn't interfere with this class. So she IS teaching it. Not you. Even though I told you in person it would be you and didn't bother to update you on this change, and apparently, wasn't planning to. But you can help with the class if you want! Oh, and can you sub for these other classes over here? Fuck you, and have a nice day."

I hadn't stopped crying from the rejection letter, so the tears just kept on flowing as I thought, wow, way to get kicked while I'm down.

The next email was from the man I gave my ferret to in 1999. He sent me pictures this morning (after I'd emailed him last night), and sent a movie of Martin this afternoon. As I watched the movie, the tears kept coming. This time, they were bittersweet. It's wonderful to see that Martin is alive and well. Though I must admit, it's still heartbreaking to see him as someone else's pet.

My heart and spirits feel quite heavy right now, and I'm not really sure what to do. I need a hug.