I have spent this afternoon surrounded by a ring of mounting paperwork, the kind of paperwork where you can’t complete X until you’ve had Y signed but you need X sent off as soon as possible so you can complete Z by the deadline in two weeks. In addition, my battle with the people who work in graduate admissions seems to be unending as they need my final transcripts to finalise my place at the university. That’s cool, I thought, I’ll go and get my transcripts when I graduate and hand it in when I get to Miami. Again, things aren’t quite as simple as they seem because apparently my transcripts aren’t real unless they are in an unopened envelope from the University of Leicester. They also want me to drive an hour over to their office on the FIU’s south campus so they can photocopy my degree diploma, because scanning and emailing it isn’t exactly the same thing. Fuck you Graduate Admissions. I hate you so much right now and the increasingly passive aggressive tone of my emails is only going to get worse before it gets better.
My first day alone in Miami has been very stressful, only saved by discovering that there is a British food section in my local grocery store. I’ve been so on edge from trying to sort out so many things that I almost cried over Robinson’s Apple and Blackcurrant Squash and Hobnobs.
I just can’t wait until all of this mundane adult stuff is over and I can start enjoying living the dream.