Rapid Deceleration Trauma

The title pretty much sums up what’s going on right now. Things have been so crazy, by the time I’d even compose my thoughts about what to write, I’d already be just staring at the wall, comatose, or simply not coherent enough mentally to actually make it happen. I’m not going to go into any real details at this point, just use this small entry as a catch-up for what’s current right now. To help me be brief, here’s a simple list:

• I have left Mexico permanently. I am not a student this semester at UAG nor am I affiliated with the university in any way, officially or unofficially.
• The “privilege” of leaving Mexico involved hundreds of dollars to pay off immigration to have the proper “exit papers” which was needed as part of the university’s more specific need to have almost the janitor sign and stamp my paperwork saying I was leaving campus; in simple terms, I needed to prove I didn’t have outstanding debts, issues, etc. to get the final “OK” to leave from UAG, which also was the official “you don’t owe us anything after all” on paper.
• After weeks of work to get the above, I wasn’t to have a copy of the final document. I socially engineered a malleable secretary into a copy, because the university has been known to suddenly have “mysterious charges” on students’ accounts after they’ve left. Of course, if you want to be sure things are handled properly, you have to come in person…
• It’s official: I still don’t know who it was in administration that felt their Cheerios were pissed in. Because there are no Cheerios, nor can they confirm that there were any, but nevertheless, you can’t have breakfast. I asked three different ways, and was given multiply bullshit answers by the “Directora” of International Student Affairs, saying she didn’t know who it was. But she told her minion to tell me. But she doesn’t know. Riiiiight.
• I eventually did contract a moving company, but didn’t have enough money to do a full international move, contracting only to the Mexican city across the border. We sold about 50% of our “big stuff” hoping to bring the cost down, but as luck would have it, the price came down about 20%. We would have been better off not selling anything than selling stuff at $0.30-$0.40 to the dollar and taking a loss as we did. Except we got some liquid cash to use for the move, which is good. As is typical, there is never good without bad right about now.
• Partly due to convoluted customs laws on both sides my plan of going across to get our stuff in a borrowed flatbed and Yukon to tow our stuff back (unloaded from said moving truck) is not possible. Customs brokers (agencias aduanales) have a mafia-lock on border crossings on both sides, and trying to do something oneself without reams of paperwork serving little purpose is like walking onto the construction site in an episode of “The Sopranos” saying you’re there to do the plumbing. US Customs is transparent and easy to deal with if you know what you’re doing; you just will never get the proper equipment to do it with unless it fits in the back of a single vehicle. I now have to pay somebody money I don’t have (again, like “The Sopranos”)–the whole reason I didn’t choose the int’l move in the first place.
• I have no choice but to shack up at my parents’ place for the indefinite future given my financial position. I am thankful I do have a place to go, but what was livable over Christmas knowing we were only visiting 10-12 days (but grew more annoying as time passed) is now a paralyzing situation to have to deal with in terms of space, organization, and parental unit management. It’s not that it’s so bad–the digs are actually pretty comfy, and again, I’m blessed–it’s just given everything else, something like this is just over-the-top. We’ve gone from a two-story, 3 bedroom house–our own–to 2.5 rooms. With parents. Again.
• Simultaneously fighting every day with border people about our stuff. We’ve been here 5 days and have only barely unpacked the first of the suitcases that were in the car. I finally made the call today to send the stuff from Guadalajara (we were given a week of lag time, thank GOD), so it will be here mid-next week. I can only hope everything is worked out by then for something less costly than what I can make between now and then slapping my antecubital vein at the blood bank.
• I have already applied to another foreign school. US schools were never an option because US committees have to split hairs between the applicants with GPAs 3.85s vs 3.86, of candidates with 3 published articles in Nature, foreign volunteer work, and LORs from the respective chancellors of their university systems for their outstanding contributions to student government; therefore, applications for US programs to start this fall were due between September and November of last year. I’m not even at the point of getting an interview yet, so as far as I’m concerned, I’m at square 2. Maybe.

Now perhaps you can see why titled this post what I did. The juggernaut has (almost) come to full screeching halt, we’re out of Mexico for good, and, on the surface at least, ready for the next thing. However, being thrown off the bull doesn’t simply mean you’re safe; you may be on solid ground but you are by no means out of harms way. To stretch out the last little bit of this metaphor, the roller-coaster ride finally came to an end–not at the “normal” start/end point, but rather at the top of a precarious incline, leaving me to wonder how to climb down safely, if it’s even possible.

I’ll post “part #2″ in this barely-begun series later this weekend, which deals with how my former school continues to screw the pooch on a matter of major international concern. Tune back in soon–I promise this juicy installment has nothing to do with my personal woe and may indicate that karma is indeed a true force of nature. See you then!

Thou Shalt Not Congregate for the Super Bowl

OK, I think the NFL (and I’m referring to “NFL Inc.” specifically, not the sport of football) has officially gone to the Dark Side^tm. The whole NFL Network vs. the rest of all other broadcast media debacle where the NFL says, “We OWN this sport; be lucky we let you show anything” should be reason enough to question the motives and sanity of the corporate brass. (proof? two words: Bryant Gumbel) But if all the oligopolies of cable networks as a whole wasn’t a fish big enough to fry, the NFL in true Belichick-like fashion is now kicking the cane from old ladies crossing the street; namely, they are going after churches showing the game on television screens larger than 55 inches. Because, of course, a 54 inch TV is OK but a 60 inch plasma is ungodly.

No, the real reason–again–is greed. The official reason has some opium-induced rationale about ratings and statistics of viewers (ie, 100 people watching on 50 TVs adds better to the viewing stats than 200 people watching on 2 TVs), but aren’t official “ratings” done by Nielsen households or the like that voluntarily participate? When any event claims that x million people are viewing, it’s not a house-by-house count by any means; it’s extrapolated from a controlled group. So what do they care if some church-going folk want to get together, use a big projector they already have, and invite sports enthusiasts for a gathering that’s guaranteed “clean” for the family?

Ah, but the plot thickens. You see, there is an exception–and one exception only–to the 55 inch TV rule. Sports bars and other such establishments are free to show as big a jumbotron as they can fit to show as many people as they can serve, no penalties, no foul. So in effect, we have the NFL clearly endorsing a place of drinking (and usually smoking, depending on the local laws) over a church entity. And why not? Off the top of your head, who are the “big name” Super Bowl ad consumers year after year? I promise eTrade commercials won’t be coming back, but Budweiser commercials will forever stay.

And just to be clear–all of this is coming from a beer drinker (although not the piss water they advertise on any given football game) and lover of sports bars. Verily I say unto thee: The NFL will have to do pennance on this one in due time.

(h/t Slashdot)

The Goodbye, Part 1: Leaving Mexico

The title says it all in a nutshell. The details are fodder for a movie if some screenwriter/filmmaker could work some of that Hollywood “suspension of belief” magic.

So after blogging about things in December here before, as well as going on the radio about my problems with school, with the Christmas holiday break looming, the heat went up in the kitchen–way up. Every day was some setback, some new depth of laziness and ineptitude by school officials uncovered, each of which could have been a blog entry in itself. However, as anybody can see, the site has been near-dormant for the last 6 weeks or so with the exception of occaisional “fluff” posts and status updates. I had been trying to do the right thing and not publish something I’d regret later, as well as not plunge this blog into uncomfortable negativism and hostility.

Well, there’s nothing more on the line to worry about regretting, that’s for sure. However, to actually catch up to give everything that’s happened justice (and it’s not just about me, believe it or not ) will take a couple more posts, so please bear with me. I promise I won’t dwell on my problems forever; in fact, I am looking forward to putting all of this behind me in my daily life, even if I’ll be dealing with the financial, academic, and some of the emotional consequences for a very, very long time.

So first, the good news: the school’s financial committee decided to forgive the debt representing the tuition of the semester I didn’t attend. This would seem like an obvious slamdunk decision, and indeed, that’s what I was expecting back in November. However, I was told this after classes began in January (knowing full well the decision came in December; they just waited for either laziness or spite), so that’s already strike one. I said publicly that no decision before the break was a “no” decision, because I couldn’t be on pins and needles with no loan money, no job, and risk things not working out in the end, spending what little money was left in the meantime just waiting (rent, etc.) Therefore, I fully expected to come back to gather my things and leave with whatever means I could, even if it meant just practically giving stuff away and leaving with what could fit in the cars.

And now, the bad news: a faceless, secret committee mentioned before has for sure sealed my fate by deciding that I could not re-enroll for school–even if things worked out with the financial committee–because of “my attitude.” Yes, those last two words in quotes were given to me verbatim. But not by anybody with authority–oh no. This was given to me by a minion (who I later found out was just as miffed at having to deal with this bullshit almost as much as I was) who was allegedly told this by a representative of said committee. I mentioned this on the radio show linked above, but I hadn’t really uncovered the festering rot that is at the core of the wretched institution quite yet, so I thought that it was all a matter of just ruffled feathers over something (I had no idea what–still don’t), and that the appropriate “mea culpa”/”I’m sorry” would suffice to stroke the ego/whims of whatever muckety muck that got their short-and-curlies caught in their zipper. Whatever “attitude” they could be referring to was clearly unwarranted. Had I threatened, been insubordinate, disresepectful to a professor/dean or the like, I’d understand at least, “Oh yeah, it was probably that,” but honestly nothing even close to any of that has ever happened. My frustration in dealing with all this was obvious, but I never “let loose,” so to speak, to anyone.

Unfortunately, I found out that my being asked to leave went much deeper and was more sinister than a simple misunderstanding or the like. The “secret” committee that I have been talking about actually has a name: “Honor y Justicia” (“Honor and Justice”). Can you believe that shit?! What kind of “justice” exists when an entire committee of unnamed, unreachable faculty and administrators meet to try, sentence and seal your fate without even letting you know until after the fact? And what input could one give if one isn’t even made aware that there are “charges” or problems in the first place? I would imagine a committee like this would deal with serious infractions of honor, integrity, or ethics. However, there are students who have been caught cheating–red handed–and they are not expelled; everyone who goes to school here knows exactly what I’m talking about. Oh, but I’m told I can’t come back. What did I do that’s worse than cheating?! To make matters worse, my repeated requests to get something in writing stating this fact have been denied. Just two days ago, I asked Ms. Red Flowers, the director of International Student Affairs, in person (by finally barging into her office since her pit bull secretary wasn’t there to close her door upon seeing me as usual) yet again, and to my face she told me that she has nothing in writing, and that “We could ask the committee to provide something, but it would be up to them.” When I asked which committee, she replied she didn’t know. To my face.

But the greatest breach of confidence and trust truly came from dean/director Dr. Multiple Sclerosis (MS), as I’ve blogged before, pretending to know nothing. In spite of knowing exactly what kind of student I am and professes these excellent qualities himself, Dr. MS said not just to me, but to my wife that he knew nothing of any such decision to prevent me from re-enrolling but also that he would not be willing to follow up on it. Dr. MS said, “I don’t know where this comes from. But perhaps it comes from a committee called “Honor y Justicia“. This was the first I’d heard of this “committee” and I could scarcely believe my ears.

He continued, “Remember when I talked to you in July about some things you wrote online? I sat you down and explained things [read: droned uselessly--see link] because I know that you are very smart, an excellent student, and that you were just confused and need to be educated on things that you may not be aware of. Perhaps others weren’t so understanding, and maybe that’s where the problems come from. Perhaps. But I don’t know for sure.”

If I am so smart, then don’t you think I’d be able to see through this lamely constructed veil of false deniability? Moreover, how impotent/incompetent can this guy be if an entity outside the School of Medicine is totally going over his head to screw with me and him not even know it? On the flip side, if I’m such a good student, like he says, why is there no outrage at 1) the fact that someone is meddling on his turf from the outside and/or 2) that one of his students is being ramrodded? Because he knows full fucking well indeed and is lying to my face–and not just him, one of his lapdog minions, Dr. WolfCamp, who should know even less since I’ve never had anything to do with him academically, but had quite a few things to say about something that he also claimed to know nothing about.

Between the lies and the outright refusal (with my wife as my witness) to help me in any way shape or form at this December meeting, any and all respect I had for anything at this school was gone. My personal decision was made before I left for Christmas break that things were done with this school. That’s what these monkeys don’t understand: I’m playing for keeps–this is my financial future, my wife, my child, my career. For them, I’m an account number and more dollars to add to the slush fund. There are students who literally go four years here, never having passed Step 1. I shit you not. Does the school give a rat’s ass? No, because they keep collecting their tuition money without a care in the world that maybe–just maybe–they need a “time out” by force to get their stuff done. Students are a disposable commodity to them–much easily discarded if, like me, they seem to present a “problem” to administration–since there are so many willing, naive students ready to take any given place.

But are there so many eager students? What if the well of students who would want to come here would run dry? That’s the real-life drama of the next installment.