The methodical plow.

Woke up at 7am with a clenched stomach, worried about the credit card debt.  The debt management plan I'd inquired about came back yesterday with an estimate that showed that I'm $938.00 in the hole every month with the debt that I have.  I know that's not possible; the repayment plan with the University and my plans to sell the car (even if it has to be sold for a song) would have me in the black, but barely.  I replied to the debt counselor with the nuances of my situation, but I'm suspecting that I'll have to actually go to debt settlement, which sucks.  Was able to talk it out with Jen and feel better, as some of the anxiety is coming from not wanting to make her anxious.

That itself makes it manageable; I also have to remember that my personality is such that my mind will keep finding things to worry about - I could just as easily be going to school in Minnesota and worry about keeping my grades up, for example.  I need to push past this fear and uncertainty for my own good, too - for as much as I'm adjusting to this place, I still have only one friend here, and am just meeting the new classmates that are gradually becoming friends.

I know that people fall on hard times with the loss of jobs and the inability to pay a mortgage, for example - I saw it in my old job a fair amount, with income sometimes just not shaking out after an application is in process, and low appraisals contributing to borrower frustration.  My situation is different: for years, I'd lived just enough beyond my means to accumulate credit card debt, which I hammered away at during my well-compensated year in 2007.  However, the near-year of unemployment between 2008 and 2009 set that back, as did the need to put essentials on credit (I'm sure that a few thousand dollars were at places like Target just for food).

Am I one of those struggling Americans?  Yes, but like so many, I am trying to better myself, and with an opportunity that few have to give myself MBA skills that will enable me to get away from the life of quiet desperation (employment-wise) that I've mostly lived.  And though $30,000.00 is a lot of credit card debt, it could always be worse.  I have my health and the love of my girl ("Bubbletoes" by Jack Johnson arrives overhead, right on cue) and all the motivation in the world to keep charging forward.

The decision of one or two people has resulted in drastic financial change and uncertainty (and my school is BIG on those two concepts, all irony aside).  But isn't that how this kind of thing often works anyway?  Risk involves the chance of loss, which I've already experienced to some extent, but the chance of gain: I made it past the gate at this school, which The Economist just ranked 10th-best in the world.  The world!

This is my big chance, and I have to take whatever suffering may come along with it.

Trying to build a balance

For the first time in memory, I did no journal writing this weekend.  By writing I do mean "writing", putting a pen to paper and watching the scrawl decode my thoughts.  Every little thing takes time, but building in time for things like that will keep the stress level at a productive level.  I'll keep this blog up for myself and the handful of people that I know in the States who check in from time to time, as it's a great (and free) way to broadcast a small part of myself and my new experiences.

I've always believed in productive stress, but it has been years since I actually experienced such a concept.  Probably the last time was when I was still playing with In Defence, where the creative and energetic effort has to hold together, which was always my responsibility as the bass player with the thundering rig and solid tempo (which I still have despite hardly playing for months, and I'm proud of that).  The gigs themselves never lasted long, but the sweat output confirmed the work put into the performance every time.

The schoolwork is already rolling at a rapid pace, which I like and don't find intimidating.  I get the feeling that the professors want people not to memorize the material, but to be able to dig into it enough to enable a level of mastery, as neither of the two Monday classes (dealing with management and organizational behavior, which is "behaviour" here) spent a lot of time referencing the first-week materials - they helped more to frame the discussion.

Then again, with my entire section-cohort of 55-60 people taking all of the same classes, maybe it was by design to put the qualitative material first (even though the two classes are back-to-back and each three hours long), then drop the quant-bombs the rest of the week (as I have accounting on Wednesday, information systems/statistics on Thursday, and Economics on Friday).  But I only have class from 8:30-11:30 on those days, so I can keep my new routine of getting up at 6am and getting to school before 8am to get my bearings before each class.

Jen was very happy to learn that I have the flexibility to not be gone until 7pm every single weekday, and I was glad to have that news to give.  Hopefully she'll have her own routine soon, too, so that I don't feel like I'm leapfrogging too far ahead in making this city feel like home.  Everything is a balance, but no matter how much work I have to do or how many places I have to be, she'll stay right where she is at the top of the pyramid.  For I haven't been a student in fifteen years and it's entirely different this time around - the support of my best girl plays a huge role in how strongly I'm feeling with this start, as we work through money and adjustment tensions as best we can.

The evolution of risk into a controllable entity

Busy orientation day and worn out just before bed, as a full-day retreat beckons in the morning.  Too tired to really write, but:

- a payment plan is being worked out, as I was fortunate to find that my graduate program has the flexibility to allow a portion of the tuition to be paid in the second semester.  We will be staying in Toronto for the long haul and will not be forced to give up on this long-planned dream.

- will be selling my car to save money, and frankly, I won't miss it in this city of incredible public transportation and pointless traffic jams; it long since did the job of allowing me to court the girl who would accompany me here as my life partner.

- will be entering a debt-management program.  The credit card debt has been out of control for years, and not only will no car help keep that down, but sometimes a forced day of reckoning is just what a person needs.

- I should be able to skate on the money we have until the financial aid comes through (presumably) next week, and Jen can soon hit the job trail in earnest with a new phone.

- I already know that I'm really going to like this school, having already met and heard from a gang of entertaining and engaging professors, one who reminds me of my first guitar teacher in college: brash, headstrong, funny, and hand-talking to the nines.

- our personal effects finally arrived yesterday, and assembling the bed was the first step to getting back to normal.  We're missing a shower curtain and everything is disorganized, but only a couple of poorly-packed wine goblets broke, and I need to fix the handlebars on my bike, but ship-shape otherwise.

Putting a steel pole in the jaws of the dream crusher.

Received the near-worst news possible today restricting my financial aid to a Fantasyland number.  My head is spinning; I cannot think.  I have eaten one granola bar and drank maybe one glass of water today.

Called through to the voicemail of the financial aid determiner today; the voicemail was predictably full and there was no forwarding option available.  It's possible that the person missed one of the loans, but my gut tells me that I have been screwed, and I have to take my case to the Dean's office tomorrow morning.  I will look on all of the Big Five banks' websites for more options, but I suspect that their student options will be limited to Canadian citizens or permanent residents.  Maybe I'm wrong, but our household is struggling against the wind right now.

We don't even have our things, which will finally arrive Friday morning.

I owe six hundred dollars to a friend that I love like a brother, and I have no idea when I will be able to pay him back.  A relative co-signed for a loan after I desperately tried to get the right information from my school's financial aid department.  I have all of the emails to back up all of the misstatements and drudge that I tried to wade through, apparently to no avail.

People have put their trust in me and I feel like I have let them down.  I have been pragmatic my whole life, vigilant to the vagaries of human nature, and I know in my mind and heart that I did everything I was supposed to do in this instance.  For the last year, I have been aiming at this, taking care of as much as humanly possible.  Even if our family was living for free, we would still have to stretch the approved allotment, would still fall behind on bills.  I honestly have no idea what the school is thinking with its limitations; I want to see the metrics for myself.

There is an admissions board that wants me at that school, and there is a financial aid board that apparently does not care.  I have nothing to go back to, only a rebuilding project.  I have to hold it together for myself and my girl.  I have to make something work.

Somehow.

Labour Day brings grey skies, but reminds of open horizons.

Coffee is abetted by the fact that I'm able to sit and type in a padded armchair hear at Starbucks at Bloor and Ted Rogers Way, barely a ten-minute walk from home.  Typing while lying down on a deflated air mattress or sitting on a hardwood floor has been an invitiation for muscles to ache and I'm soaking this up fully before heading back home to kiss my sleeping girl on the forehead and take the elevator down five floors to the fitness room.  (Just in case I hadn't waxed eloquent about how awesome that is.)

It's a huge benefit and I'm grateful for everything right now, even the grey skies and the cool temperatures.  I can look out our seventh-floor window at the Manulife Financial building, which alternates the temperature in Fahrenheit and Celsius: one more little thing to figure out and incorporate into my new normal.  All the high-rise buildings around us, all the lights on at night in each little visible rectangle... it wasn't long ago that Jen and I used to make fun of what we called "aspirational apartments" overlooking Lake Calhoun in Minneapolis, and sure enough, now we inhabit one of the ubiquitious cookie-cutter-condo units ourselves.  Some things just evolve that way, and that's cool by me.  I can't imagine ending up in a better place or location, close to so much (the adjacent Danforth neighborhood to the east has quickly become a favorite; I'll only need to take one 15-minute bus ride from the front door of our building to the Kool Haus to see Off With Their Heads on October 14th; so much more to take in and absorb). 

I sit here for a few more minutes, doing a little GMAT Business-Ready online study as Meshuggah's "Chaosphere" album tracks ring in my ears.  It's a good summation of who I am, a good reminder that I've brought my whole self with me across the Canadian border.

Here. Here, and there, we were. Here we are.

So much for leaving by noon to start the trip: just before 5pm, after a frantic and exhausting final cleaning and sorting of what would stay next to the Dumpster and what would be packed in and around the cats in the back of the Forester, we bade farewell to our old home, grabbed some McDonald's for needed comfort food, and set off down Interstate 94.  Six or seven hours later, we were checked into the Motel 6 just west of Chicago; one fitful night's sleep and just under eight hours later, we were at the border, the "WELCOME TO CANADA" beckoning in red above the entry lanes where each driver stated their purpose and moved on.  Within half an hour, we'd completed a painless interview that resulted in Jen getting work authorization on the spot; four hours after that on the 401, then the QEW, then the Gardiner Expressway, the CN Tower appeared, illuminated in seemingly iridescent fades of red and white.

We were home.

Two days of new-to-Canada orientation later, and through many of my own efforts, I had a $99 monthly student transit pass (which will save a great deal of money over parking, which gives little tiem savings with unpredictable traffic congestion), and had settled on Scotiabank for our new banking account (which we couldn't rustle together in time for this weekend, so we'll have to wait until this coming Thursday when I have a break in my orientation week, which starts with back-to-back 12-hour days of meetings, mixers, and food).  Also, with the work permit Jen scored, she was able to get to a Service Canada office and have a new Social Insuance Number (the Canadian equivalent of the U.S. Social Security Number), which allows her to apply for work.  Next up is for her to obtain a new phone from Telus, which I'll do after figuring out my financial situation.

That latter item, to be blunt, continues to be a major stressor.  It has not dampened our excitement and zest for being here, but has led to daily freak-outs and needed calm-downs.  Jen understandably can't plan until we know how much we have to live on; I've bottled that stressor for so long now that I fly off the handle and have to pull it back together and apologize for being fiery and unreasonable.  Even though we both know that the determination is only for an eight-month period (with the expectation that I will interview for and secure a paid internship next summer, which usually offers pay of $1000-$1200 per week), and that her chances of finding employment here are better than in the U.S. with its battered economy, the simple inability to have any control over my financial-aid determination inspires temporary paralysis and complete destruction of perspective that's reminiscent of road construction on a road trip: no way out, just have to slow down, ride out the momentary change and delay, and then get on with things once the orange cones no longer appear.

We know that we've already accomplished a lot simply by getting here; just because people at the new-to-Canada session at school seemed more concerned about how the wire-transfer of funds works to get money from their accounts to the school doesn't mean that I'm the only one with financial worries.  I was the only American in attendance the first day out of probably 90 people - I took solace in already making a couple of new acquainances from Thailand and Venezuela respectively, as well as fielding questions from people from India, Mexico, and China about the United States, sharing our perspectives about where we come from.

I know that the school wants me there and will do what it can (as another department has already stepped up with both an emergency bursary and processing a $1000.00 advance against the financial aid that will be paid back once the financial aid is worked out), but the wait just hangs like a cloud over everything.  It's like my old mortgage work, where people may not have known for an agonizing amount of time whether or not they'd get the home they had signed a contract to purchase, and a few of them did indeed come down to the wire, with less-than-three point landings occurring before the loan could close and the buyers could get their keys.

My mind and self are ready and open for the new roads in this hugely vibrant city; my life experience and skills have prepared me to employ Ockham's Razor to cut the Gordian knots between me and my goals, of which there will be many.

My to-do list may never again be empty, but it's a grateful acceptance that life is a full thing, and I don't expect that I'll ever have to worry about my list being vacant - because along with the have-to-do, there's the want-to-do.

I feel as alive as I've ever felt, and things are really only just beginning here.  Let the madness begin!