one down
Got my rejection letter from the Graduate Center yesterday. It wasn't entirely unexpected. I should have taken more time, started earlier with my writing sample. Perhaps sent them more than one. (I didn't exactly *have* more than one).
For the first time this year, I am fully facing the prospect of not being in school again this fall. It would be rather prudent of me (financially, mentally, emotionally) to find a non-menial job that actually utilizes some of my talents. Not sure if that's entirely possible in this economy, and I do NOT want to morph into my sister ... but money and meaning = important. I suppose I'm going to have to go about facing down this self-punishment stuff.
I am not like my family. I deserve better, and want more out of life than provincial, midwestern things. I make quiche. I embroider tea towels. I live happily in a big city. I'm a musician. I've gone and done many things so far in life, and aspire to infinitely many more. None of these are bad things, but I still feel apologetic. Sorry Mamamia, I aspire in a direction that takes me far away from you. Sorry Riva, I'll never be preoccupied with my appearance nor the difference well-toned muscles or a few pounds either way might make. Sorry the rest of my relatives, I am a sexual deviant, a liberal, an athiest, a feminist, a big-city girl, an incurable slut, a philosopher, a serious musician, and many other things that you all are not.
Maybe I just want their acceptance. The Wilsons (M.Mia's family) can't accept liberal, athiest, sexually deviant, slutty relatives. Nor can they fully understand the happiness of living in a big city, the importance of thinking, or the feel of music. The feel of music -----
Bubbie couldn't accept athiesm or sexual deviancy of a kind that would result in her not getting great-grandchildren. And I've always been loathe to admit how terribly important music and thinking are to me. I am convinced she would find a way to make The Good into a glitzy, tzatchke trinket to show off to her gossipy, mah-jong cronies.
They can accept teaching and musicianship, to a certain degree. But they accept Starbucks completely. Corporate ladders, supervisors/workers, these things my family understands. Promotions mean tangible progress, whereas epiphanies and self-improvement just don't seem to count for much.
I lack the moxy to say, 'fuck 'em all.' They're my family. A pretty good one, too, all things considered. And I am much like them in many ways, important ones even.
I have always been afraid, both of failing and also really succeeding. I've been afraid of fully committing to something- quality of writing samples, let's say--which results in half-assed attempts to get what I want. I think this is more or less how my apps for grad school can be summed up.
That being said, I really want to be accepted at Stony Brook. I want to begin PhD study with my friends (although wtfisjohn , i feel slightly better with the knowledge i could still be the same year as you). i'm tired of feeling out of the academic loop this year, even though the four of us will probably end up at different schools anyway, which will result in there not being a loop.
I do not want to go to Bowling Green. The midwest may eventually kill my very soul.
sigh. and more Waiting.
One rejection letter down.
Two more to go.
For the first time this year, I am fully facing the prospect of not being in school again this fall. It would be rather prudent of me (financially, mentally, emotionally) to find a non-menial job that actually utilizes some of my talents. Not sure if that's entirely possible in this economy, and I do NOT want to morph into my sister ... but money and meaning = important. I suppose I'm going to have to go about facing down this self-punishment stuff.
I am not like my family. I deserve better, and want more out of life than provincial, midwestern things. I make quiche. I embroider tea towels. I live happily in a big city. I'm a musician. I've gone and done many things so far in life, and aspire to infinitely many more. None of these are bad things, but I still feel apologetic. Sorry Mamamia, I aspire in a direction that takes me far away from you. Sorry Riva, I'll never be preoccupied with my appearance nor the difference well-toned muscles or a few pounds either way might make. Sorry the rest of my relatives, I am a sexual deviant, a liberal, an athiest, a feminist, a big-city girl, an incurable slut, a philosopher, a serious musician, and many other things that you all are not.
Maybe I just want their acceptance. The Wilsons (M.Mia's family) can't accept liberal, athiest, sexually deviant, slutty relatives. Nor can they fully understand the happiness of living in a big city, the importance of thinking, or the feel of music. The feel of music -----
Bubbie couldn't accept athiesm or sexual deviancy of a kind that would result in her not getting great-grandchildren. And I've always been loathe to admit how terribly important music and thinking are to me. I am convinced she would find a way to make The Good into a glitzy, tzatchke trinket to show off to her gossipy, mah-jong cronies.
They can accept teaching and musicianship, to a certain degree. But they accept Starbucks completely. Corporate ladders, supervisors/workers, these things my family understands. Promotions mean tangible progress, whereas epiphanies and self-improvement just don't seem to count for much.
I lack the moxy to say, 'fuck 'em all.' They're my family. A pretty good one, too, all things considered. And I am much like them in many ways, important ones even.
I have always been afraid, both of failing and also really succeeding. I've been afraid of fully committing to something- quality of writing samples, let's say--which results in half-assed attempts to get what I want. I think this is more or less how my apps for grad school can be summed up.
That being said, I really want to be accepted at Stony Brook. I want to begin PhD study with my friends (although wtfisjohn , i feel slightly better with the knowledge i could still be the same year as you). i'm tired of feeling out of the academic loop this year, even though the four of us will probably end up at different schools anyway, which will result in there not being a loop.
I do not want to go to Bowling Green. The midwest may eventually kill my very soul.
sigh. and more Waiting.
One rejection letter down.
Two more to go.