You Know What I Mean #45: Second verse, same as the first
A little bit better, a little bit worse, like the MLA format
Look at this gorgeous tree! Just look at it!!! Wow, what a tree.
I’ll be honest, this week was tougher than the last for me. Some days are good, some days are bad, and the same can be said for weeks. The beginning of the week was very chilly and cloudy, a total downer. It’s turned around again now and I can’t wait to go for a long walk after I’m done with this.
Some Writing Nonsense
I guess this is where I say that I got my final rejection for the my MFA applications, officially leaving me 0-6, not even waitlisted. I knew this was coming, it wasn’t a surprise, and I was fine with it. Rejection happens to everyone (especially me, chimes my ego) and it’s always a possibility. I applied to fully funded programs so I wouldn’t have to take out student loans and those programs are especially competitive. They all received hundreds of applications for 10-12 spots, so I definitely wasn’t alone in hearing no. I’m still proud of what I submitted and I stand by my work.
On social media, people sent nice messages. Friends texted. Then I emailed with the people who wrote me letters of recommendation because they had been asking what was going on. Deep down, I was afraid they regretted helping me and wasting their time, and of course, they were kind and encouraging, which somehow hurt way worse.
Logically, I know this is probably for the best. If there’s ever a time to NOT have to move cross country and try to live on a graduate student stipend, it’s right now, in the middle of a global pandemic. Yet, it still hurts, even knowing how not personal this whole thing is. And when other people tell me that this is for the best, it fills me with an irrational rage. It sounds so dismissive. I can say it, but you can’t. It doesn’t make sense and I don’t care.
I cried a lot earlier this week. I think I had to mourn the life I hoped I’d be living while facing the reality of the one I’m in right now, where I can barely go farther than a few blocks from my apartment. I’m struggling with how shitty this feels while stuck in the middle of everything else, with friends and family out of work, people getting sicker, so much up in the air, bad news day after day. It’s hard to reconcile with the parts of life that are still moving while so much is stuck in the middle of this crisis. I felt bad for feeling bad but I just had to own up to the fact that I felt bad, period.
It’s really hard, trying to hold two truths in the same time. It’s for the best that this happened, and yet still painful. These past few weeks have been gratitude and resentment, swirling like a mood ring. I’m so incredibly lucky! I’m so incredibly miserable! What a curse, what a gift.
A hug in sweater form
The hardest part of this whole things is not being able to hug my friends and family. It actually makes me tear up when I think about it. My pals Becca and Tia fixed the giant holes in my favorite sweater and it’s the closest I’ll come to hugging them for the next few weeks.
Substack is being a pain right now and not letting me paste the Instagram post that I want here, so here’s a link to it on Instagram and a screenshot of their post:
They are sweethearts and if you have clothing that needs a nip and tuck, check out Old Flame Mending. They specialize in visible mending and they make things beautiful.
Take care, everybody. Slap on sunscreen and go for a walk in the sun.
xox A
I disagree that the rejections were "for the best" because you deserve better. This isn't the end of trying, this is just the end of those 6 admissions for right now. Keep trying, keep fighting, you'll get there. We've got you.