Grad School Angst

Let me tell you right up front; this is not the fucking time to put up some positive, optimistic comment all filled with sunshine and kittens... Stop yourself before you start.

So I'm having a drink with a prof from the Creative Writing Program last night, and he mentions, in passing, that there are about ninety applicants to the MFA program. I just about spilled vodka martini all over myself - there are over ninety applicants for nine spots in the program?! As if that wasn't enough, this prof goes on to mention that there are only two teaching assistanships available. One of those assistanships (or a comparably paid internship) is just about the only way I can justify going to grad school, from a financial perspective. (It has occurred to me that there really is no justification for grad school, but I digress...)

Naturally, I am terrified by this. My GRE scores, while acceptable, are certainly not the best out there. My GPA, while pretty good, is not a 4.0. I felt like my writing sample was diverse and interesting, but who fucking knows what they really want to see? I am, once again, dangling in the wind while some tenure-encrusted byzantine engine of academia decides my fate.

I know I should use this as an opportunity to practice patience.

I know that I should probably have greater faith in my creativity.

I know that whatever the outcome, there's some greater reason for it.

Fuck that.

Fuck that noise right in the ear. I don't want to be patient - I want to know what the fuck is going on, and I want to know right fucking now. At the moment, I would be more than happy to go off, get my mitts bloody, and drag some people behind the Popemobile until I get some answers...

Of course, I won't do that. I'm not that insane.



Not yet, anyway.