Hopefully creating a blog will let the searing tick tock of my wait bode something more productive than an infantile temper tantrum. Wah.
This morning, Katie, one of my cubicle cohorts mentioned that St. Anne's convent, a tiny aged stone building by her house is in the process of tearing down the willows that have shrouded it in privacy for almost a century. The elder trees are diseased; the nuns were worried it would spread to the saplings. Katie's probably shrugged off this story already for something more interesting, but I'm staring out the only window in my office at the leafless victims of this year's first subtle iceage. I've spent the last three months grieving the loss my sister (she's not dead, but that's a fact that's lost on her), the loss of my sanity as I fall further into the rut of my office routine, and something more ambiguous. I'm still stuck on her story. Should I feel more like the dying trees, or their soon to be orphans?
Tick...Tock....Tick...Tock. Twelve schools and nothing. I'd settle for a rejection at this point.
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6 comments:
I like this post. I'm playing the waiting game too and have been checking the response time blogs way too much...just wanted to say I appreciate how you've been sharing whatever info you find from other blogs and putting it on Seth's and Godfrey's. Many thanks for your help in spreading info.
Fingers crossed and good luck to you!
Thanks! I'm running out of fingers to cross, but I'll leave a few open for you.
It's good to know there's someone else out there, dancing around impatiently. I just want them all to tell me this afternoon--to come home with the rejection slips and phone messages, just to know.
I thought I'd feel better after the first call, but I didn't. Three more.
Well, two. The second call came yesterday, though it was an unofficial call. And it was from a school I haven't heard anyone talk about, so I'll just sit on that until I get an actual letter in my hands.
The waiting truly is the hardest part. It's maddening.
Enough about the grad school apps. Enough, enough, enough already! (For the next sixty seconds or so, at least)
Thank you for your beautiful post. Things that can't speak for themselves...
Waiting is the most difficult when I'm sorting papers. All I do all day is make piles. As I sift through medical licenses and safety reports, they all have a unique story. I can't help but imagine that I'm in a pile somewhere left in the hands of someone who hates their job as much as I do.
pensive495, I was sorry to read about the rejection you received from Western Michigan. I hope you'll post a pic of the paper mache middle finger!
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