I’m still applying. And I’m starting to hear back from things to which I’ve sent back applications. They’ve all been no’s. But it’s just so exciting to even hear back from someone. At least my credentials justify a response, even if it’s just a form letter. I’m excited to be getting rejection letters. I think this may be a personal low.
But in spite of that, I’m happy. I’ll keep applying and try to stay positive. I can’t count on anyone else for positive reinforcement, I’m learning. Not my professors, not my classmates, not my transcripts and resumes, not my friends. Not that these people won’t come through (well the professors won’t…but my friends do) but because when push comes to shove, I need myself. And I’m learning that.
So right now, I’m frustrated. Because for years, I knew I would excel in academia. I knew I’d make a fucking incredible professor, researcher, mentor, and peer. This was the field for me. And that shifted and changed over the years, but I always knew. I’m a writer and a researcher and a teacher. And now I sit in class and I don’t know. Where will I go and what will I do?
But if there is a God [and I’m sure there is], then She has to have a plan.
So for now, I keep dreaming of that PhD. Keep trusting myself despite the setbacks. And keep applying to any and every other option I can think of. And while those plans start to fall into place or start to transform into new doors and windows I couldn’t imagine, I’ll plant a garden. I’ll watch the Walking Dead even if I really don’t know how I feel about Season 3. I’ll surprise everyone by cooking something edible. I’ll do some yoga. I’ll wrestle with that golden retriever. I’ll listen to the goddamn Giving Tree Band because I love it.
And it’ll fall into place. Because I’m only 24. And I’ve really got my shit together for a girl so young.