Yesterday was not a good day. Well, it was up until I decided to ruin it by logging on to the facebook group called the MFA Draft. It’s not really the group’s fault. I wanted to check to see if people had reported hearing from some of the schools that I’m waiting for. It never ends well, does it?
In the pre-application period, the Draft is a nice place to be. I met someone I published from there. It’s good in the beginning. After acceptances and rejections start rolling in? I need to flee and get the hell out. I’ve done this two years in a row. I should know better.
I see a lot of posts of “OMG I can’t decide which school I should accept their letter and go there!” Or “I’ve decided and notified [5 other schools I wanted to go to] that I’m going to [an even better school].” I’ve applied three years in a row, with horrible results up until this year (with results being fairly abysmal instead). I’ve been working my writing a lot in the last few years. I write a few times a week if not every single day.
So, I’ve contemplated just giving it all up. Just walking away from everything writing related and just go find something else to go do with my life. (Although I can’t).
I don’t know if I can handle applying to MFA programs again next year. I don’t know if I can do it again. I may apply to a totally different type of program just to see if that helps. Because let’s face it: three years of rejections expecting different results? Scarily sounds like insanity.
By the time you read this, I will have landed in Seattle for a week-long, very much needed vacation. I will hopefully forget this entire episode of depression/anger and go have fun. Or something.
And also in addition to the professional crisis I currently face, I’m also (as always) undergoing personal crap. Like why I can’t seem to find anyone decent to date who wants to date me back. But that’s whining for another day, right? It’s too bad all the gorgeous guys that think I’m hot live in the UK or Australia. Or otherwise known as not within meeting distance. Oh well. I’m sure I’ll survive. If I dont …?