Private Student Loans are the Devil.

So when you're in the thick of it, when you're in the trenches, trying to get your degree complete and get on with your life,you are willing to sign your life away in order to get to tht finish line, because, well, what the hell do you do with a half-finished degree? nothing, nada, zip.

so the devil comes along with his fiddle and his scroll and his frilly feather pen, and with that smarmy smile says: here, no need to fret little idiot, I can help!

and you, being stressed and feeling pressure and being impatient and ignorant, you nod and say 'that sounds fair' and you sign your name and co-sign the names of relatives to this form, and poof! He receeds into the ether, you proceed with your little life and then, inevitably, you run into trouble.

Because things never never never go how you plan. how you expect. how you need them to go.

And so you're unemployed. and have almost no prospects of getting employed, or at least not employed how you'd have to be in order to start paying back all the devils you promised your soul to.

And so they call. and e-mail. and call. and send you letter after letter, and call and email and then they ruin your life.

And there is absolutely no way out of it. Short of the miracle of getting a good paying job or winning the lottery or a pestilence wiping out all records of your foolish bargain. You try to tell them that the money just isn't there, that the minimum they propose is ludacris, but the laugh maniacally--well no, they speak in a bored, monotonous, completely dispassionate southern twang--and tell you that with private student loans no further options are available.

and then the words "past due" "keep current" "default" and "credit bureau" swirl around in fire and brimstone and smoke and mirrors and it really is enough to make you want to throw in the towel. for real. like tub and razor stuff.

Because that shit effects everything. Like ever having a prayer of buying a house. And starting a family. and living the life you dreamt of-- not an exorbitant life, nothing extravagant, just a modest home with a family and a secure job.

and that is a tale of woe told by the moron that ignored the very real warning signs and sound advice from people who knew better. It isn't something that should evoke pity or empathy, it just is. It's just a cautionary tale, maybe, to avoid being a moron with more dreams than sense.

And also, just for the record, /i realize that the common wisdom is to do what you love, but when what you love is completely un-bankable, maybe don't do that and opt for something practical instead. i mean really? a drama teacher? I had thought that this might be slightly more employable than just an actor, but it is starting to look like NAY, it is just about as useless a thing to be in our society.

Incidentally the 'message' of this year's act-one-scene-one show is about the intrinsic value of art and artists to society. And I'm not convinced. /in the end the grasshopper wins his court case, wins half of the ants' harvest and also respect. And I just shake my head and think 'bullshit.'

Some dreamer I turned out to be. some artist.

I'm thinking very seriously about asking danielle how, exactly, to get into the insurance business.

Yeah, heavy sigh and furrowed brow, but true story.