I guess I'm just going to have to buckle down.
One school left. On the bright side, I won't be putting my stuff in storage and hunting up tiny, expensive apartments in NYC.
If I'm going to do anything useful with this degree, I'll probably have to do it alone. Which is hard; philosophy is, first and foremost, a conversation. And I fear trying to be like Machiavelli, who hated his life even while he was writing his best stuff.
But I can't be young again, and I can't make admission committees believe that an old person still has what it takes.
And there's always SOMETHING to be done, like making signs for others to carry at protests! Which is what I was doing Saturday, after finding out I'd been turned down by The New School. Behind every great protest is an old lady with a marker.