What do I do with myself?
For those of you who have not been keeping up with my (non-personal) life, here are the basics:
-In the summer, I moved to Montreal to start my MA in English at McGill, with a $17,500 scholarship from the federal government
-By approximately the third week of school, I completely hated it
-Near the end of November, I left McGill and my big scholarship, having decided that an MA in English was putting me on the wrong side of the literary production line
-I applied to University of Guelph for a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, that being the only school with a deadline I could meet
-I got a letter from McGill demanding about $1,075 from me because they decided to recalculate how my scholarship should have been paid based on the fact that I left them
-I got a job at a call relay centre, which I thought would fuel my creative soul by exposing me to the real lives of hundreds of different people, but instead has rather injured my soul and crippled my compassion by exposing me to the real lives of hundreds of different people, many of them bastards
-I have been waiting for ages for a letter from Guelph to tell me what exactly is going to happen with me
So yesterday I finally received that letter from University of Guelph, and, it told me (to paraphrase) that I could pretty much bugger off. My assumption is that my dark humour and bitter style did not sit well with a bunch of people looking for pompous poetry about the great Canadian landscape and emotionally-charged confessional rubbish, because I'd rather not think that they've decided I don't have any talent. What I didn't realize, I suppose, is how much I've been relying on the idea that I would be spending the next two years doing my MFA - which is basically an excuse to put my writing first - without any clear backup plan. I had joked about becoming homeless in Europe, but I haven't even picked a country yet. The point is... I really don't know what to do with myself. There are so many options, but... I'm a bit lost.
The sensible thing is to do whatever it is I'll end up doing and finish one of my many large projects on my own time, as Henry has so rightly pointed out. Which is nice, but a bit problematic because I have a horrible tendency to get discouraged by rejection. You can tell I never dated much. It's all a bunch of mental crap that I can overcome, yes, but it's there and unpleasant.
My real issue, though, is... what do I do with myself for the next while? The life ahead of me is a completely blank canvas, and I don't even know what sort of paint to buy.
-In the summer, I moved to Montreal to start my MA in English at McGill, with a $17,500 scholarship from the federal government
-By approximately the third week of school, I completely hated it
-Near the end of November, I left McGill and my big scholarship, having decided that an MA in English was putting me on the wrong side of the literary production line
-I applied to University of Guelph for a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing, that being the only school with a deadline I could meet
-I got a letter from McGill demanding about $1,075 from me because they decided to recalculate how my scholarship should have been paid based on the fact that I left them
-I got a job at a call relay centre, which I thought would fuel my creative soul by exposing me to the real lives of hundreds of different people, but instead has rather injured my soul and crippled my compassion by exposing me to the real lives of hundreds of different people, many of them bastards
-I have been waiting for ages for a letter from Guelph to tell me what exactly is going to happen with me
So yesterday I finally received that letter from University of Guelph, and, it told me (to paraphrase) that I could pretty much bugger off. My assumption is that my dark humour and bitter style did not sit well with a bunch of people looking for pompous poetry about the great Canadian landscape and emotionally-charged confessional rubbish, because I'd rather not think that they've decided I don't have any talent. What I didn't realize, I suppose, is how much I've been relying on the idea that I would be spending the next two years doing my MFA - which is basically an excuse to put my writing first - without any clear backup plan. I had joked about becoming homeless in Europe, but I haven't even picked a country yet. The point is... I really don't know what to do with myself. There are so many options, but... I'm a bit lost.
The sensible thing is to do whatever it is I'll end up doing and finish one of my many large projects on my own time, as Henry has so rightly pointed out. Which is nice, but a bit problematic because I have a horrible tendency to get discouraged by rejection. You can tell I never dated much. It's all a bunch of mental crap that I can overcome, yes, but it's there and unpleasant.
My real issue, though, is... what do I do with myself for the next while? The life ahead of me is a completely blank canvas, and I don't even know what sort of paint to buy.