Financial Aid Advisor Interview Questions

March 13, 2011 March 12, 2011

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Fred Astaire
in the bloom of youth *

At the supermarket, all I know now. And everybody loves me. All except the mirrors and their incorruptible legal proceedings.
The mirrors are relentless, you know, can not say anything other than tell the truth, as if he would do the trick, tell the truth.

Who am I?

My name Aureliano Torrecamonica, even though everyone knows me as the Despar Freddastèr. The legend is rampant in my neighborhood.
Dance to the beat of music blasting from the speakers while I line up to buy a bag of flour. You should see me stagger and wobbled to the side of the crowd.
I do the double step, under the astonished eyes of security personnel.
are in the bloom of youth.
87 years and you will hear him no more than twenty, this is my play, that's my strength.
I try with the old ladies in a row, with their dancing a step or tango or the abandonment fandango and then spinning back into the arms of their caregivers.
And I continue to dance and squirm until such time as I have to pay. Other customers, meanwhile, clapping in time and shouting my name. As soon as the cashier before I take off my hat, pull out the wallet and with flourish align the money on the back of his hand, I give them to him, screaming: Ahu! and then head for the exit by step Maicol Gecson blowing kisses to my audience into a frenzy.

Yes: they are in the bloom of youth.

And to think that until a few years ago I was not so much that a surveyor of the province without art part of it.
I spent my days waiting for his pension, which is slow and relentless when it came of my black hair that had not been a ruthless carryover. Life affects everyone, but some just rages.
On me, it was just relentless, damn it: bacon, wrinkles, balding, prostate pain, gastritis, ulcers, flaming, constipation textbook, chronic impotence.
My wife did nothing but complain all day. He felt "misunderstood." Poor beast.
holding me tight under the covers and whispered to me that he wanted to make love. I'd play, but he was never the same idea.
We try in every way, but nothing. Remained inert and limp as if it was not his job, absolutely deaf to all our flattery. He looked at us with his one eye laughing at us and our troubles. She then began to move about the room, saying he was misunderstood and shouting that he wanted a man. I'd scream to lower his voice, which was not necessary to know the entire building my problems, but she did not listen to me either. She was misunderstood. Those

were bad moments. Wow if they were bad times.

I knew if I did not do anything, everything would be over between us.
even worse: it would end, would go ahead in spite of us, we would continue to hate each other in silence until death would separate us. The pain was unbearable.
I loved my wife but I could no longer be a man.
Forty years of marriage, two children, a lifetime to solve problems and I did not have a shred of response against the offensive of the time.
The years I was being severely beaten before the eyes of my wife, while the hours, seconds, minutes kept me still.
Time is not honest, time is a son of a bitch, ecco cos'è. Ride a crepapelle delle nostre sofferenze. Ama vederci implorare. Gode nell'infliggerci ogni giorno un declino tanto lento, quanto inesorabile. Ha un unico obbiettivo: annientarci senza pietà. Quando finalmente si stanca di noi, di noi resta ben poco.

Di me oramai non era rimasto nulla.
Avevo paura, tanta paura, ma non riuscivo a fare nulla. Niente di niente.

Finché un giorno non avvenne il miracolo.

Ricordo ancora quella mattina, come se fosse oggi.
Tornavo dal supermercato, con le spalle incassate nel mio cappottone da vecchio. La giornata era più fredda del solito, tutto mi sembrava ostile, niente mi sembrava favorevole. La città era aliena, bieca e sbilenca, as my uncertain steps.
walked and thought about the future. Or rather I was thinking about what the future if they fuck with us, and we do not know if you know it, turns away, pretending not to see us.
The buses were a primordial strange noise when he stopped to let off passengers. It seemed the vent of a prehistoric animal. A huge prehistoric animal vomited unknown.

When I returned home, I noticed that there was music.
centuries had passed since the last time that the radio was turned on at home. There were still kids at home and most of their music was heavy and painful.
I was so used to silence domestic and the simple fact that we still had a radio source was amazing for me.
I went into the kitchen and found all set for lunch. It was only eleven in the morning. My wife smiled at me. I also smiled at her and I sat in my place.
had prepared the vegetable broth.
There were two steaming dishes in front of us. My wife was dressed up and smiling at me.
you feel something slipping away from my shoulders.
was the burden of life. All the frustrations, all the pain, all the rage.
ate continuing to look into his eyes, as if we were two little boys again. The radio transmitted
: Damn Primavera Loretta Goggi ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aZAEAfWvd4 )
I said to her dance? She said
guardandomi intensamente con un mezzo sorriso sulle labbra.
Feci il giro del tavolo, le porsi la mano.
Lei si alzo elegantemente dal suo posto.
Posi la mia mano sul dorso della sua schiena.
Lui portò il suo peso su di me e sprofondò la propria testa nel mio petto.
Io iniziai a ondeggiare al suono della musica.
Sentivo il profumo dei suoi capelli, le sussurravo che andava tutto bene, le palpavo il culo come ai bei tempi. Mi sentivo di nuovo un uomo.
Lei iniziò ad affondare le dita nella mia schiena, cercando le mie labbra.
E io non ebbi più alcuna paura.
Quel giorno abbiamo fatto l'amore tre volte di seguito e ogni volta tornavamo a ballare.
Abbiamo ballato Celentano, Cutugno, i Rich and Poor and Carrà.
Then we fell into bed exhausted, finally together.
My wife has stayed embraced me as she did when we were married.
I wanted to dance.

From that day on, my life changed.
only ate broth, we gave in and danced every day, if I danced my god!
dance all day.
danced continuously.
danced without pause. Never.

My wife was more puzzled.
danced too early, then after some time started to get tired more frequently, until it has completely stopped.
He just looked at me and backed sculettavo and home to the tune of Mas Que Nada http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kp23j4ulLs8&feature=fvst ).
I kept asking if I felt good. He was afraid that my body does not properly governed.
only answer I gave her two taps sang I Will Survive ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tth-8wA3PdY )

In the neighborhood had become a celebrity.
I had also bought a striped jacket that I wore a glove and made me feel even more fluid movements. Under wore a suit acetate, from which came a gold necklace of another era. I was the idol of pensioners.
were all in love with me, all they wanted to have a good time with me and sometimes they even offered to give me the soldi per i miei "servigi", ma io rifiutavo sempre con decisione.
Amavo mia moglie, ero suo e lei era mia.

Ero proprio un povero stronzo.

Ripensandoci adesso, il cuor mi balza in gola al pensiero di quanto ho perso. Avrei potuto farmi tutto il quartiere e invece ho continuato a scopare con la mia signora finché non ho avuto un infarto.

Mentre ero disteso sul lettino dell'ambulanza, un dottorino sulla trentina, con gli occhi strabici e l'alito che sapeva di menta, mi aprì finalmente gli occhi: avevo ingerito una quantità tale di viagra da uccidere un cavallo da corsa. Non riusciva a spiegarsi come fosse possibile che non avessi ancora tirato le cuoia.

All'altro capo della città, Meanwhile, two police officers interrogated my wife.
After several hours of terrible threats and incessant questions, she finally spills the beans.
for months without my knowledge crumbling daily three tablets of Viagra in my broth and then enjoyed the results.
why I always felt a bull.
It was not a miracle, but simply the effect of sildenafil overdose. He could kill me.
Fortunately, things went differently: I have undergone a bypass graft for summary that saved my life and she ended up in prison.
I've thought and thought several times: his was a gesture of love, even though it was completely crazy. He saved our marriage, but I was almost taken away.
Our case is finished well in the paper.
for a while 'we were on everyone's lips, then everyone will have forgotten us. The glory is nice while it lasts, then back to the same life as before.
Only that I'm back to business as usual. My wife is gone. I'm just at home. I crawl from room to room, not knowing what to do.
The radio still plays, but I no longer have the strength to dance. I do not have any youth.
Occasionally, some obscure radio station transmits other times in their schedule Blighted Spring and then I cry in silence, crying as the old ones.

Time is really a great son of a bitch. I feel alone and harnessed as only a cart at the supermarket can be.
fill me with the morning and evening, I leave shit stacked together with many other geeks out in the cold and frost.
between me and freedom is a mere €, which stops the chain. A

. Only. Wretched. €. Tra. Me E. La. Freedom.

A trifle, if it were not for the fact that I have no hands or fingers, or arms, and I can not find the words to ask someone to let me go.
life, if you do not dance, it's little stuff.
becomes disarming, as a joke told badly.

* based on a true story

Is There A Cure For Sensory Neuropathy

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These our '10s,
so lucky, so full of hope
A father. A son.

laugh at gilded butterflies .
Shakespeare, Lear: Act V, scene III

When he was fired for the umpteenth time, my father came home and darker than usual. It was the fifth time in a year, and the excuse was always the same: "reduction of personnel due to the crisis."

My father hated the crisis.

no more even that work, we have the furniture distrained Mom, we both knew. I was seven years old, but I was a kid very cute.

Nobody cared that we were left alone, he and I, and my mother was missing so unbearable.
There was a crisis, and for them this was a valid reason than to rescue us from our memories.

There was a picture in the kitchen, where we had all three: Mom, Dad and me.
Mom could also be beautiful in a hospital bed. In that photo dad smiled pressing my arm while I was looking at a point beyond the target.
seemed ages ago, but had gone only two years.

That morning, my father spent much time in the kitchen to watch quella foto, poi d'un tratto, si alzò di scatto dalla sedia, prese la foto tra le mani e la buttò nella spazzatura. Dalla mia stanza sentì tutto, ma non emisi un solo suono.
Solo allora sembrò accorgersi di me, ma non ebbe la forza di sorridermi, come faceva di solito. Aveva qualcosa in gola, che lottava per uscire. La stessa cosa che avevo io e che non voleva saperne di andare via.

Lo vidi dalla finestra scendere le scale, e andare in garage alla ricerca di qualcosa.

Quando tornò fuori, aveva un'ascia in una mano e una sega nell'altra.
Senza dire nulla, iniziò a potare un alberello che si ostinava da anni a crescere sul marciapiede davanti casa mia, malgrado tutto e malgrado tutti.
Quell'alberello was the only thing that made sense to look across the street. For the rest there were only blocks and concrete walls as far as the eye can see. And my father was pruning.
distinctly remember thinking that my father would stop prune if I only I could get out of bed and I were looking out the window. Except that I could not.

Meanwhile the tree is getting smaller. In less than no time had been reduced to a withered stump, with no more branches to be trimmed. Did they only look at, so defenseless, without arms to defend themselves from the world. He looked like me, I thought.

Then my father started to cut the bark. And yet I could not get up.
Finita la corteccia, scese sottoterra per potare le radici, una a una. Sentivo quelle cesoie affondare nel terreno e uscirne ogni volta con un brano differente di alberello. Non stava solo tagliando le sue radici, lui voleva rubargli l'anima. E io non riuscivo a fare altro che restare immobile sul letto a guardare il soffitto.

Quando terminarono anche le radici, lui iniziò a segare la terra, sempre più in profondità, con una foga tale, come se da quel gesto dipendesse tutta la sua vita.
Dalla mia stanza, nel frattempo, speravo che prima o poi incontrasse il magma e dovesse arrendersi. Ma non fu così. Riuscì a trovare il modo di evitare il magma che abitava il nucleo del nostro pianeta e superare il centro della terra.

continued to saw through the night. I'm up there in my room I could not even move, I was reduced to a vegetative state, in contemplation of the absolute ceiling. I told myself that when he arrived in China, I would have got up and I would have stopped, but I could not really be convinced.
When dawn came up I heard him distinctly traced back to the streets of Shanghai.
And for the first time in a long time, my body began to give tentative signs of life. I sat up at the same moment when he emerged from the earth into the air in China. Now stop, I thought. But evidently he had other plans.
In less than no time he climbed the trees, following the branches and then leaves and from there began to move across the sky, its huge with those shears. With

they opened the road up, up, on and on, sawing everything, fiercely, until the infinite space. Arrived there, he began to cut entire constellations, prune blacks holes, galaxies, stars and stardust.

was cutting away everything. On the other hand: no longer made sense, without my mother. We both knew.

When in the end, after making a complete revolution of the universe, once again landed with a thud on the sidewalk in front of my window, I pulled back the curtains and I finally facing.

The tree was still there. I knew I had always known, could not be otherwise.

And beneath him, my father was crying.

It would also laid off for the feelings, particularly those with fixed-term contracts, which avoid the emotional shock of the butcher's in social revolution.

anxiety, depression, pain, when not broken, leave us numb inside, unable to do certain movements that before there were so spontaneous.
Just before leaving, my mother wrote me that: There is something in the life of everyone who is not allowed to write .
He was right: there is something in everyone's life, which is not allowed to write ever.

What Can I Do With My Old Hd Movies

March 8 ... NOTICE

Do You Need A Fuse For Boat Cd Player

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Farmville

Plato was just a jerk.

E 'his fault that everyone is so convinced that it is enough to fall in love to feel complete. The androgynous
: that huge bitch.
Thanks, Plato, with your words you invented the loneliness and you did it all by myself! Congratulations!

Did you just write a book over 2500 years ago to destroy millions of men and women. Good job, congratulations again.

No longer able to enjoy life after your "Symposium," are all too busy looking for their obsessively half. For them, nothing else matters.
You were a genius, you gave them something to rage, and we fell for them in full. All

to seek love, even love, because to them it is written capitalized.
Allocchi.
more I can not even feel sorry for you, you're really too stupid.

But I do not fool me, you're not old inchiappettafanciulli else: I do not think so.

what I think otherwise.

I think each of us is complete before you begin. It is love that breaks us, not vice versa.

Let me explain: if you fly, and then, only after, you go in two.

The trouble is that this split makes you happy, extremely happy, because you think you're finally one.
Really you as far removed as there may be from one, but so you will not even notice, you're too involved in distorting your feelings to make them coincide with the idea that you love.

Until one day, those two units which rend you do not break something and in less than no time you find yourself in three.

Three instead of two, and you continue to believe that love will complete coglionazzo poor.
No matter which of them was to break down further, you can be or can be other things, the thing that matters is that your unit begins to be torn to pieces with a chainsaw, yet continue to resist, or rather, to insist. That is your half and must remain, gosh.

And go on like this for a while ', until at a certain point, when you least expect it, those three be back in two.
Think long, but do not come again. You know you've lost something, just do not know very well what it is. It 'a little more than a feeling, but you feel uncomfortable.

Thus, in less than no time he goes back to being one.

In the background is just what I wanted , think, trying to do with it for a reason.
poor beast.

How do you not understand that the one you are now, not he has nothing to one you were before?

It 's like you're missing something (a piece, a smile, a song, a movie) to be able to make it back to be the one you were. Or maybe you're too full of something, in order to clear the table.
One is that you have become lame, dirty, biting, looting and what's more it snows. It snows everywhere.
Suddenly you realize how foolproof the people, understand what you're missing the flight and then not give it to you.
You shuffle around the city, just as only a crowd can be, in line with the rest of two to three.
makes no sense to repeat that all is well, because it does not. Minds. All you do is lie yourself. The accounts never return.

You're a donut with a hole in the middle.
a spasm, only a spasm, nothing more.

Meanwhile, the fun and love goes under 'study balcony.
looks like the wind and then go back, never stops, except to say hello, shake his hand and say goodbye.

And I'm here for days, to plant seeds in the fields of Farmville, trying to figure out what was the exact moment when I split in two, to become this void that I can not fill.

Plato crap.

It takes a lot, but a lot of patience, to be able to give as food to concerns, to cultivate a peaceful solitude, away from your clamor.

74 richieste di amicizia.
Sono tante, cazzo.
Il mondo è pieno di gente interessata a farsi i cazzi miei.

No, non accetto più l'amicizia di nessuno, ho deciso.

Voglio una bacheca vuota.
Come i miei campi su farmville.

Oggi è proprio dura, dura come non lo è stato mai.
Però adesso sono pronto.
Adesso finalmente sono pronto. Lo so. Lo sento.

La verità è che in amore non esistono ricordi, soltanto lunghi addii stupidi, crudeli e dolorosi.
Durano una vita e fanno male.
E' come morire ogni volta.
Solo che poi continui a vivere.

Enter or leave?