I wish that I could say that the sole reason I haven’t been posting on this site for the past few months is that I’ve been knee-deep…neck-deep…okay drowning in applications. It wouldn’t be false, necessarily: I did spend a good portion of my time off writing/editing stories and trying to crawl out from under my To-Do list. (EXTRA: I can now tell you first-hand what it feels like to be a zombie.)
Remember this sweet triangle?
Basically, I barely got one end of my triangle, let alone all three.
So, sure, you could say that I was busy.
But even after all those applications were turned in (and they are – [insert rejoicing here. woot.]), I still couldn’t quite get over that hurdle of starting. Honestly, I had no idea what to say. So much of my energy, passion, heart, brain, and time went into writing those applications that I felt like a shell, capable only of reading, binging on Netflix, and constantly feeling terrified of all the future had left for me. I would say it’s a bit like the emotional equivalent of childbirth, but I have no frame of reference for that. So, instead, try and capture the feeling of someone racing through a messy, blotched, unending checklist and suddenly having nothing left to do.
I had dotted my i’s, crossed my t’s, and quadruple-checked my [INSERT SCHOOL HERE] brackets.
(Ahem – Admissions Persons, if you’re reading this, that bracket thing was a joke. Absolutely a joke.)
It was all out of my hands and into THEIR hands and holy guacamole, that’s…well, unsettling, to put it mildly. Just like that, all my dreams and hopes turned to wisps of smoke, and all that I had built my blog on was suddenly too insubstantial to rest on…
…you know what I told myself when I decided to apply to MFA programs?
It’s really difficult to get in, so if you don’t get in this year, just try again next year. There’s no one telling you that you can’t apply more than once. Just don’t let your heart get set on it.
Guys, my heart’s set on it.
I’ve convinced myself that this is the only way to get out of the sluggish post-grad year I’ve been living. I’ve marked the start-dates of all those various programs on my calendar with a post-it saying THIS IS WHEN MY LIFE WILL BEGIN. I’ve spent so much time thinking of what I’ll do when I take that step forward that I haven’t given a single moment to what might happen if I can’t step forward. I’m Indi, letting his foot dangle off a cliff because the path to the other side is only present for those with faith, and I’m going what you might call crazy because it’s my faith that’s dwindling. I want something hard and concrete, not a little grape of a dream that I could very easily squish. And no matter what you beautiful people in my life have been saying, there it is – there’s this big, terrifying, evil-blob sized cloud that keeps whispering but what if?
Well, that’s it.
I don’t have any revelatory moment to share with you.
That blob you see raining all over me is still asking that question.
All I have left of my dream at the moment is smoke.
But screw it.
This post, in being a post, is triumphant.