‘Whoa!’ and Woes: Tales of the first apartment
by Liz Spihlman, Alestle Copy Editor
Moving back home wasn’t such a good idea, so I moved out. My friend and former coworker, Janessa, needed a roommate, and I needed an out. We pooled our money and ideas and rented a two-bedroom apartment in Shiloh. (Good news after last week’s post: my cat, Jynx, was able to come with me.)
I trust Janessa’s judgment, and I’m not on the lease, because I’m moving to Cougar Village in August. So I didn’t bother to see the apartment until Friday, when I started to move my stuff in. She warned me ahead of time, “It’s not the nicest place in the world.” Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much, and it turned out better than I expected… with a few hiccups.
The last tenants decided they weren’t going to tell the landlord when something malfunctioned, so there were some damages we had to have him take care of. They include a light in the living room that wouldn’t turn off due to a wiring fault, a leaky kitchen sink with a loose faucet, a water-damaged downstairs bathroom with mushrooms growing behind the toilet, a cold water faucet that wouldn’t turn on in the upstairs bathroom, tiles that need to be attached to the floor, and a bathtub in need of re-caulking. Also, there had been a fire in the dryer that was here when we moved in. It seems like a lot, I know.
Fortunately, not all of the landlord horror stories are true; ours is actually a really nice guy, and is very cooperative when it comes to repairs. The day I moved in the washer-dryer set had already been replaced. He has already fixed the living room light and the kitchen faucet, and is coming back throughout the week to finish everything else up. We are extremely appreciative of the timely repairs, especially since they concern our water and electric bills.
As for the rest of the place, it’s really not bad space-wise. We both have queen-sized beds in our rooms, and still have room for dressers and desks and whatnot. Actually, I was really surprised that the bedrooms were as big as they are. The living room is a nice size, even for get-togethers. The kitchen is small, but has a side area for a kitchen table, which we have taken advantage of. The downstairs bathroom is very small, but the main bathroom upstairs is plenty big. We could go for some more closet space, but we can make it work.
Currently, as I’ve recently put it, “The place is still in a shambles.” There are grocery bags galore, boxes, drawers, random misplaced furniture, etc. We’ll live, and hopefully by the end of the weekend we’ll have the apartment looking like home.
Home is where the heart is, and my heart is vested in making this place the best it can be. With Janessa’s help, and Jynx’s I suppose, that should be fairly simple.
Is the cat in the doghouse?
By Liz Spihlman, Alestle Copy Editor
Tomorrow afternoon will come the moment of truth: I will find out whether or not I am allowed to bring my cat to my new apartment.
Within the next week or so, I will move from my grandmother’s house to an apartment I’m renting with a friend/former coworker. Unfortunately, we forgot about asking the dreaded pet question. Tomorrow, she is going to talk to our landlord and get the lowdown on what is and isn’t allowed. Hopefully, my wonderful, cuddly, black cat, Jynx, can come with me. If he can’t, he gets to stay with Grandma. I can’t imagine he’d be heartbroken, because he snags dog treats every night there, but I’d rather have him come with me.
In a way, I understand the concerns of landlords when it comes to pets. Dogs have to be taken outside, or they’ll make a mess on the floor. Birds are loud, obnoxious and messy. Small animals run away and get into the heating ducts. Cats aren’t perfect little angels, but they do prove to be largely independent, save feeding and watering.
I’ll hit the bad news first. Cats scratch, and mine isn’t declawed. Litter box maintenance is a must, or else the apartment will grow legs and run away from its own stinky self. But aside from some discipline and owner responsibility, cats are pretty well set for life.
They can be left alone all day, and the worst you might come home to is a broken glass or a large blob of a cat lying on your dining room table. They don’t need to be supervised while using the facilities. I don’t know about all cats, but Jynx picks one piece of furniture to scratch on, and, if I don’t like it, a good swat on the head will make him pick a different one. Also, he doesn’t bark, and he’s an inside cat, so he’s not going to bother the neighbors.
In the end the choice isn’t up to me, it’s up to my landlord. However, they tend to be more lenient with cats than dogs because of the above factors. If all goes well, all I’ll have to do is convince Jynx that the dreaded car ride is worth it.
Federal Student Aid discriminates against “abnormal” households
Last year I filed my FAFSA for the first time, and I had nothing to do with it. Because I don’t live in what most people consider a “normal” household, we had a financial aid specialist from Kaskaskia College fill out my forms.
I grew up living with my (great) grandparents. I’ll skip the backstory of why my mother lived there, but she was still in high school when I was born, so I also lived there. She continued on to business college, so Grandma took care of me the majority of the time. When I was 12, my mom got married and moved out, while I chose to stay.
Because of this fact, and because my mother doesn’t financially support me, filling out my FAFSA is more than a little complicated. The financial aid specialist met with my mom and my grandparents, and under special circumstances, was able to use my grandparents’ financial information on my FAFSA. This seems logical because they claim me, and have always claimed me, on their taxes. Everything went off without a hitch, and here I am at SIUE.
However, it’s proving to be more complicated than I thought this year. Tuesday, I logged onto www.fafsa.gov and attempted to file my FAFSA by myself. I checked that I could not provide parental information and that I believed I had a special circumstance. The only special circumstance listed was that I could not provide parental information, and that all I would qualify for is an Unsubsidized Stafford Loan. I also read that I could not use legal guardians’ or grandparents’ financial information unless they had legally adopted me.
Now, we’ve never done any paperwork to change legal guardianship to my grandparents, but the Department of Children and Family Services thinks that they are my legal guardians. So, who’s to say that some automatic adoption shenanigans didn’t go on?
So, I got smart and launched a chat session with a Customer Service Representative. After explaining my situation, she informed me that “You must use your biological parents’ information on the FAFSA.” When I told her that they don’t support me, she replied with, “I read that in your above statements.” Wait a second, I didn’t tell her that in my above statements. I simply told her of my living situation and that my grandparents claim me on their taxes. She proceeded to tell me that I shouldn’t have used their information on last year’s FAFSA and that I should let the university know that I did so, so that they can “adjust” my aid. Needless to say, the conversation ended there.
I would hope that a financial aid specialist would know what he is doing with the FAFSA.
In any case, I’m in the process of contacting the same financial aid specialist as last year so I can get this all taken care of. I can’t afford to be taking out loans for my entire college career, and I shouldn’t have to.
In my honest opinion, and not just because I am in this situation, I believe that the people who claim a dependent student on their taxes should be the ones to provide financial information for that student’s FAFSA. It only makes sense. What’s it matter if they aren’t the biological parents? They are the people who support the student, and therefore could be paying for his/her college education.
Simply because someone doesn’t live in the typical nuclear household, doesn’t mean they deserve any less than someone who does. This is discrimination on behalf of the Federal Student Aid program and it needs to stop. Who are they to decide what is “normal,” anyway? This is the household I grew up in, and this is what is “normal” to me.
Being ineligible for grants for this reason alone is just wrong.
Shh, don’t say s-e-x! The kids can’t handle it!
by Liz Spihlman, Alestle Copy Editor
As a child, I, and all my classmates, used classroom copies of Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary to look up my vocabulary words for school. I only remember what dictionary it was because it was bright pink, and we dreaded getting them out.
Now, as all kids do, sometimes we would come across what we would call “funny” words – the words our parents didn’t like to hear us say, whether we knew what they meant or not. We would giggle to ourselves, maybe show a friend, and go about our work. None of these words, nor their definitions, have scarred me for life or changed the way I grew up.
Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary
However, a California parent feels strongly enough about these words to demand the dictionary – yes, the same Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary – be removed from her child’s school. Her child came across the entry for “oral sex,” leaving her fuming at the kind of filth being provided to our children. Whether the school board decides to throw out the books or not, this request is completely ridiculous and, dare I say, irresponsible.
I am almost positive I came across the same definition, or a similarly questionable one, when I was a child, and, at most, I had a surprised – maybe confused – look on my face. I still went on with my vocabulary words and didn’t think anything of it. Dictionaries aren’t the devil, because knowledge isn’t the devil. Our children are going to learn what oral sex is from a number of locations, one of the most accurate being a dictionary.
I am not a mother, but I am the sister of an 8-year-old and I would much rather have her stumble across, even look up, the definition for oral sex rather than ask a friend or Google it. The world is a scary place, but the dictionary is not the enemy.
