So . . . Texas A&M, my beloved, tells me six months ago that I will have to pay for 15 hours, even if I take only twelve. I say, fine honey; be that way. I'll make do because I love you. You give me what no one else can. But she, Texas A&M, has turned super-bitch on me. She raises the price-per-hour, lets her retarded little brother with a humping problem (named Transportation Services) alter the bus routes so not one single student is happy or content with his/her lot in life. I say, fine honey; be that way. I'll grin and bare it. I'll take more hours, since I don't have to pay for any hours over 15, up to 18. So I take another KINE class, to get more bang for my poor, worn0out University buck. But suddenly I check my fee statement and lo-and-behold, an 85.00 dollar charge is laid by what must be the hand of god in my A&M account. What fortune! That money must go to feed the poor or the leperous or the women with freakishly big or mishapen feet. I am a samaritan; a good one at that. Of course, my judgement was off. In doing further research, my 85.00 dollars is yet another KINE fee, plus more student fees and taxes. You see, even though I don't pay for more hours, I pay taxes on what I would have paid, had I not been so lucky as to have all these new Goddamn rules thrust upon and into me like a midget's first day in the state pen. I'm talking about rape folks. Rape that comes and sneaks up on you, leaves you first totally breathless, then wondering where your wallet went. Oh, and my virgin sensibilities. That's gone too. If college is here to prepare me for the real world, I am thus prepared. I expect, upon graduation, to find myself raped continually, with little to no control of the outward flux of my bank account. I also expect to work hard, and see the money flit away like a rapist in the night. The cops, they might come and disbeleive me, they might assume I made up a story because I blew all my money on coke and whores. I don't know where to buy coke or rent whores I tell the boys in blue. No matter they say. It's written on my face, the lies, they say. I tell them the mistake a liar's face for mine: a gullible and defenseless college student. Let me toast my imaginary glass of Captain Morgan and Diet coke- *cheers*- Here's to having no control over who screws me. And to hoping A&M will stop making such stupid and careless choices in the future. Oh, the waitress wants me to pay. She says it'll be 85.00 bucks. I open my wallet; out flies a moth. The moth has my last dollar in its mouth. Dammit.