Continuing the madness...
I feel like the blackout time for grad school decisions is analogous to Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. I am Marlow, and the calendar between Jan 15-Apr. 15 is my river. Each week I plunge deeper and deeper into madness, as the solid ground of the final app due date has vanished from sight, and I cannot see what is in front of me. The admissions committees (adcomms, if you will) are Kurtz himself. I have never met them, and only have heard rumors of their ways. They meet in dark places and have an alluring sense of power which pulls me to them. I fantasize about impressing them; what will they think of me? I see evidence of their carnage from years past. Each day, I see at least one new "rejected" post on thegradcafe.com; another casualty. Am I their next victim?
Just as the river gets foggier and foggier, so does my mind. I begin to think strange thoughts, see strange antrhopomorphisms. What I once viewed as a lifeless sheet of paper -- just an application -- I now see as a living being with its own soul. I have sent it off to live amongst cannibals. I see the greedy Harvard apps smacking their lips, ready to consume its petty state school existence. Or it is sitting alone, forever isolated under flickering flourscent lights. Or worse -- it will come face to face with Kurtz. What will it see when it looks the face of evil in the eye(s)? Will it be able to fend for itself? Or will it succumb to Kurtz's feared red pen, hearing those fateful words, "Rejected. Rejected!"
Whatever happens, I know that upon my return to reality, people will ask me what I saw. They will ask me, "What did they say?" And I will lie. I will say that I was their last name to escape their mouths. But at night, when I am by myself, the true words will echo in a haunted whisper: "Rejected. Rejected.".....
Just as the river gets foggier and foggier, so does my mind. I begin to think strange thoughts, see strange antrhopomorphisms. What I once viewed as a lifeless sheet of paper -- just an application -- I now see as a living being with its own soul. I have sent it off to live amongst cannibals. I see the greedy Harvard apps smacking their lips, ready to consume its petty state school existence. Or it is sitting alone, forever isolated under flickering flourscent lights. Or worse -- it will come face to face with Kurtz. What will it see when it looks the face of evil in the eye(s)? Will it be able to fend for itself? Or will it succumb to Kurtz's feared red pen, hearing those fateful words, "Rejected. Rejected!"
Whatever happens, I know that upon my return to reality, people will ask me what I saw. They will ask me, "What did they say?" And I will lie. I will say that I was their last name to escape their mouths. But at night, when I am by myself, the true words will echo in a haunted whisper: "Rejected. Rejected.".....