The. Worst. Day. Ever.

Let's jump right in, shall we? Yesterday B. came to move out his things. I tried to prepare myself emotionally, but from almost the moment I woke up I was frazzled and jittery. Nothing had been sorted. Nothing had been packed. This made me even more freaked out, because while I am the type of person to go through every single, tiny item in the house before moving (and sort into PACK or THROW AWAY piles), B. prefers to literally grab everything, throw it into garbage bags, and haul it away. Doesn't matter who it belongs to, doesn't matter if it's something you're going to throw away - if it's in the house on moving day, it's going with you.
Now, you might say to yourself, "Whitney, if you know this, why didn't you go through everything and sort out what belongs to you?" Well, nameless person, I would say to that - "I'm sorry, does it look like my responsibility to sort through all his shit for him?" No, it does not. A prideful matter of principle for me. Well, that, and OH YEAH I HAVE 5 PAPERS DUE THIS WEEK. If I had nothing else going on in my life, and if hadn't moved on from the "sad" stage of grief to "anger" last week, I might have done it.

So, I'm sorting through the laundry, finding random socks of his to put in a "B. pile," when I hear a knock on the door. It's the girl who wants to buy my car (let me catch you up - I'm trying to sell my lemon of a car and found someone who actually wants to buy it, problems and all). She wants the car today. As in now. I'm fine with that - I need the money - but I can't locate the title. I know I had it a few months ago. I even remember saying to myself, "I'd better put this someplace special so I won't lose it." However, I have absolutely no idea where that special place now is. So I'm hurriedly digging through old files and boxes before B. arrives in a frantic attempt to find it. Spolier alert - I didn't find it and still haven't found it, but that doesn't matter anyway because while I was sorting through a pile of letters, catalogs and tax forms, I found a letter from a month ago I had overlooked. It was a letter from a collection agency informing me that my bill of $600 had not been paid to AT&T and that they would be handling the retrieval of said debt. Now, this is how self-critical I can be sometimes: when I read the letter, I ASSUMED I had incurred that debt somehow. My cell phone is with AT&T, after all. But, I have a "Go Phone" account, and it's impossible to go over your limit with that account - that's why I got it. Then I saw a sentence at the bottom of the letter that gave me a sick feeling: "If you think you have been the victim of theft of identity, please call the AT&T Identity Theft hotline at this number." Sidebar - I don't know if I think it's awesome or creepy that AT&T has a special division dedicated to identity theft.

I called the number and talked to my new best friend Diane, who, after checking the records and asking me a series of questions, confirmed that, yes, someone had stolen my identity and used my credit to pay for a home phone line from March 2008-February 2009. Someone, apparently, in Austell, Georgia. I don't even know anyone there. I don't even know where Austell, Georgia is! The worst part - when she confirmed my social security number, she told me that they have it. Which is 10,000 times worse than someone just stealing your credit card number. So now, not only do I have to fill out tons of paperwork for AT&T (for their "investigation," according to Diane), I also have to contact the Social Security Administration, credit check companies, and God-knows-who-else. I think the scariest thing for me is knowing that this happened over two years ago and I'm just now finding out about it. What other charges are going to show up under my name? My dad and I have worked hard to establish good credit in my name . . .and someone can undo all that hard work in seconds.

I don't even know what else to say about that right now. I got my identity stolen. It sucks hard.

This is in addition to having to meet with the Dean of Academic Affairs on Monday. Because my GPA dropped from a 3.8 to a 2.8 in a matter of months, I was placed on academic probation. It is extremely shameful to me, and hard to talk about. I want everyone to think I'm perfect. I want everyone to think I'm the student I always have been. What can I say? Things have been hard. Really, really hard. I'm coping - sometimes in healthy ways, sometimes in not-so-healthy ways. So I sat there in her office, tears rolling down my face, as she suggested I not return to Candler next semester. No asking me why my GPA dropped so drastically; no asking me what Candler could do to help me; just that I couldn't get any more extensions and that maybe I should consider dropping out. Like she's so perfect, like she's never flunked a class - I'm pretty sure she at least flunked out of Pastoral Care and Counseling, or at least skipped the class where they talked about how to show basic courtesy to a student balling in your office.

That's my week so far. I still have ass-ton to do to finish this blasted, cursed semester. Also, B. didn't take all of his things, my place is a wreak, and new roomate is supposed to be moving in this weekend. Shit. Shit-shit-shit-shit-shitty-shit-shit. I just felt like cursing there for a minute.

The one bright spot right now is W. He has been an absolute gem through this whole ordeal. He found me a free mattress and picked it up for me, helped me move furniture, WASHED MY DISHES, and brought me apple pie and chocolate. Also, he bought me french fries and absolved me of the sin of eating chicken mcnuggets. He's pretty much been the best *ahem* boyfriend ever.

Are y'all tired of praying for me yet? 'Cause I'm gonna need you to keep it up.

"Hot Time, Summer in the City!"

2010 Atlanta To-Do List: "Summer of Whitney" edition

1.) Attend a Braves game

2.) Take advantage of cheap, first-release movies at the Starlight Six drive-in

3.) See the 12 a.m. Friday night showing of "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" at the classic Plaza Theatre

4.) Try this guy's organic, homemade popsicles (strawberry-basil, anyone?)

5.) Take a tasting tour of the "Sweetwater Brewery"

6.) Tour the CNN Center

7.) Go clubbing at the Velvet Room, in hopes of bumping into Luda

8.) While I'm celebrity-stalking, I may as well hang out at Lenox Mall to try and run in to Usher

9.) Go see classic and new movies on the largest screen in the city at the "Fabulous Fox"! Theatre (the organist plays the "Mighty Mo" organ for those who arrive early, AND "The Wizard of Oz" is playing June 4!)

10.) Walk the new Canopy Walk at the Atlanta Botanical Garden

Any other "can't miss" events happening in the "A" this summer?

Living with Migraines

For the past six days, I have had a near-constant, low-grade migraine. Symptoms have included everything from sensitivity to light, smells, and sounds, constant pressure behind my eyes, fatigue, dizziness, blinding pain and nauseau. I can keep it somewhat tamped down by flooding my body with otc meds and caffeine and sleeping with an ice pack on my neck. I have prescription meds for it, but taking promethazine has an almost "scorched earth" effect on my body; I'm a zombie for 36-50 hours.

I know what the current cause is - stress. I have so much work to do, so many decisions to make, so many difficult and tedious details to handle, that my body, spirit, and consciousness just want to shut down. Finding the motivation to attack the mountain of work is difficult in the best of health; now, it seems impossible.

I'm so tired. My body is tired. My mind is tired from the pressures of school - both real and imagined. Most of all, my spirit is tired. I try not to complain too often - I have wonderful friends and family who love me, material blessings, educational opportunities, food in the fridge and a safe place to sleep at night. But it's been really hard for me to be motivated, optimistic, and ambitious lately. The past 2-3 years have been so hard. So hard. I know other people deal with worse problems, and I try to remember that and be grateful for my life, but I just feel like a hamster caught in a wheel. Things just keep going and going, but nothing ever changes.

I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know what I want out of life anymore. I feel like nothing in my life has worked out the way I was told it would - like God gave me a beautifully wrapped gift, only I opened it to find the box empty. I don't even really know why I keep this blog. I guess it just seemed like something fun to do because my friends were doing it. Well, I don't know who reads this or why - but will you pray for me? I don't know how or if prayer works, but I know it makes me feel better. And I really need to feel better .

Taste of Summer

I realize I haven't really blogged in a while - I've just uploaded pix. Honestly, though, this is much more fun for me. I don't have to think of a topic, and I'm really not that keen to share everything that's going on in my life or head, anyway. I promise a real blog update is coming soon. For now, though, here is another attempt to catalog the neighborhoods of Atlanta.

One recent afternoon William and I walked from Columbia Seminary to downtown Decatur to get some frozen yogurt. We bopped around the square there for a minute, then walked back to campus. The pix are mainly of the square and flora I captured around campus.

Doesn't this picture look like it could be in a food magazine? This is William's yogurt. I believe he got vanilla with chocolate sauce, strawberries and kiwis.

Yum!

I got strawberry and honey orange zest yogurts, and put a few white chocolate chips on top.

Over-priced dress boutique. The only thing I could afford in here are those construction-paper flowers in the window. . .

That mist is actually the fountain. It blows up around the sculpture of kids flying around the world and looks like clouds.

 Sculpture in front of Twain's Brewpub. You're sure to find at least one seminarian in here at anytime.

Dogwoods on Agnes Scott's campus

I told y'all in my post on "Reynoldstown" that I'm obsessed with doorways.

I have no idea why these concrete posts are marked with Vs/Roman Numeral 5s and spray-painted blue. I just know I like it. And now, cropped in to make a W:

So, this crushed paper cup (I think?) was wadded up and thrown in the gutter. In my mind, the object resembles some kind of beautiful, exotic, origami-ish crane. To me, it looks like the head is facing the leaf, trying have a conversation with it. Kindof like and "Are You My Mother?" thing. A very weird, Tim Burton daydream.

 
 
 
 
 

Irises on Dickinson, Whiskey Stills on Rose. . .

More scenes from DeWitt: my mother's garden, including her precious bottle tree; shots from my neighborhood, including a neighbor's miniature city in his backyard, aka "Foxville."