Nemus's Journal: I fear nothing, save my mailbox

It has gotten to the point where everyday I wake up and wonder what bad news I'll get today. This weekend, I had a series of charges hit my bank account, some over two weeks old. Not a one of them was over a few dollars, but my bank charges a $37 overdraft fee; suddenly, my $18 in overage turned into ~$400. Never mind that in a couple of cases it was a 3700% interest rate, never mind that I didn't ask for the service, and never even mind that legislation essentially outlawing these charges has been slow-walking through congress for the past two years. What I don't understand is how in the name of all that is holy they expect anyone to pay these charges. Banks made between 50-100 billion (with a b) last year alone in overdraft charges; but I wonder how many people still owe their banks hundreds of dollars that they just can't pay.

One thing I'm thankful for is that I never got a credit card. I have friends who have four, five, even six or more credit cards. On each of these cards they carry an average of $2000, with interests rates that have recently been jacked to 29.99% or even higher. What I do share with a lot of my friends is student loan debt. This December I'll get to start paying back about $30,000 in student loans, and I know I'm getting of light; UGA, which is right next door, apparently costs $20 to $30 thousand a -semester-. I'm applying for an extension, but to do that you -have- to speak to someone on the phone. I've tried twice now to get through, but I've spent around five hours each time waiting on hold. That's time I could be using to apply for jobs, or at the very least spend not stressing out.

I haven't checked my mail in about a week now, because I damn near flinch every time I even think about going to the mailbox. It'll be bills, or some other form of bad news. It's gotten to the point where I'm even broke in my dreams. Of all places, I should have the ability to hang out at a coffee-shop and read, or see a movie, or whatever, in my dreams. Last night though I distinctly remember checking my pockets at every place I went, thinking that maybe this time I would have some cash. I think that when people talk about making their dreams real, it's supposed to be a one-way street. I know, though, that as I stare out my apartment window at all the BMW's and Mercedes and the like, driven by 18 year old freshmen whose parent's have handed them everything, that those dreams aren't going to be any less real, anytime soon.