Monday, October 31, 2005

WHERE DID YOU GO, SYMPATHETIC SPACE CADET?

I have been clacking and clacking, cutting and pasting, marveling at the incompatibility of all these programs, and becoming furious at the thought that one school wants a 2-3 pp purpose statement but a 20 pp writing sample, while another requires a 4-5 pp statement but will automatically disqualify you if your writing sample is longer than 10 pp. And don't even get me started about the standardized test scores, which officially qualify me to do nothing more than stick my face in a disease-ridden puddle and lay there and die. And I keep saying to myself, "didn't you just do this?" And the answer is yes. And it's already time to do it all over again. Only this time the stakes are much higher in some ways. And the professors don't know me as well. It's not the "takes a village to raise a child" mentality. It's the "we are all really busy so what do you want?" one. And I unsuccessfully attempt to manage the information in a spreadsheet but the cells are already bursting full, cascading onto 2nd, 3rd, 4th pages and not properly aligning, so I will end up sending my GRE scores to Nunavut instead of N. Carolina (which could be a blessing in disguise?) And when people ask I say that I don't really care all that much whether anyone lets me in--pretending to be nonchalant rather than fessing up that I'm only moderately well-disciplined and afraid of taking chances. When it comes down to it, nobody really gets into these programs except for 2 or 3 kids each year, and I fear I've already used up all my chances to claim the prize that only 2 or 3 kids claim. Gigantic neon pink teddy bears filled with sawdust at the Co. Fair. Had I known there were better prizes, I'd surely have held out. And people say "what are you going to do?" and I just tossle my hair and say there's plenty of things to do, all cool like, like I'm James Dean or someone.

1 comment:

Katiett said...

Gah. My love for your writing is unending.

Speaking of which, do you want to go see Spoon tomorrow night in Times Square? If I don't hear from you before tomorrow afternoon, I'll be forced to call and ask.

That's a warning.