It’s nearly 1.30 AM right now and for the last 2.5 hours I’ve been glued to the computer, glassy-eyed and claustrophobic, trying to work on grad school applications (deadlines are coming up way too fast). I really do want to go back to school; I’ve wanted to go back for three years or so but haven’t been able to get my act together to actually do it. I applied to two programs at the University of Minnesota two years ago, in a huge messy rush, and got rejected. I also applied twice to a Master’s program in Berlin at Humboldt University; the most recent rejection happened just this May. Throw in an application for a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship too, also denied. I did get accepted to a Master’s program at Queen’s University in Belfast in 2004, but I had to decline it because of a freak arthritis flare-up with my eyes.
Oh, pity pity woe is me, right? I know, stop being a baby. But as I sit here feeling like someone is digging sharp knives into both ankles and that maybe another evil person just finished smashing every inch of my body with a lead baseball bat – I do wonder sometimes if I would be having such trouble trying to move on with my life and getting my shit together if I were healthy and arthritis-free. Is the RA to blame for any of these frustrations and failures or is it all me?
I don’t know. I do know that especially since the situation with my ankles began in April 2005, energy and motivation have been on extra short supply. Today, to my dismay, I slept until noon and then I drove out to Maple Grove to do a few errands. On the way back home I tried doing some work and serving some legal papers, to no avail. When I returned home with throbbing feet, exhausted, I collapsed on my bed for a while. I did manage to change into my pajamas and then hobble back into the living room to watch Dancing With The Stars with my mother (how lame can this story get, you ask?). Ate dinner. Shuffled to bed and read for a bit, then creaked back downstairs to the computer room where I now sit. Good grief, old ladies are more productive in a day. I might as well be comatose.
While it’s not manual labor, of course, the admissions requirements and the paperwork and application procedures of these graduate applications are really overwhelming (not to mention the financial expense). The very thought of all of the crazy running around I’ll have to do to actually try to do this thing, merely applying, makes my bones ache. Today I could barely handle going to Ulta to exchange a hair straightener. How can I possibly do grad school? The thought of grad school excites me and makes me happy, but the mechanics of getting there and the reality of the work and stress it will have on my mental and physical health is worrying. I know I need to stop whining and just get on with it and do the best I can. Yet I can’t help it if I’m tired of the rejection and tired of putting my body and spirit through even more stress and pain. Keep trying is the clichéd, thumbs-up pep-talk thing to think and say, right? Yeah, yeah. I know. I will keep trying because I can’t stand the thought of the alternative.
Well, on that happy note – it’s time for bed…with dreams of the GRE floating through my head (I hope not). Good night!