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I tried to make an angsty post, then posted it to Facebook, then took it down. It's totally in relation to my writing. My first impulse is always to strike it from the record.
So, I'm starting trying to get my materials together for applications to schools for an MA. I know the drill. "Bad Weston, no biscuit." for waiting this long - absolutely. I have until December 11, though, so it's not beyond expectation. Apropos of nothing, at that point, I will be 26. I will have lived on my own for a year or so, and I will have had spent over two years making ends meet off and on. If that's not enough to be sure I want to go back for more education, then I can't think of anything that would do it for me.
I was afraid of doing this. Big things scare me. Little things, too, but I guess magnitude cows me into inaction. It is, after all, another change in the way I live. After changing my way of life drastically every few months, it becomes exhausting. After a certain point, I realize why people eventually settle down. How many skins can you shed? That's what it feels like. You move across country or get an apartment or sleep on your friends floor overstay your welcome, and each time you settle in again. When you move, your everything is tender and fresh, your nerves are exposed.
The big question is where I'm going. I've come to terms with the fact that some people want me around. The evidence exists for that interpretation, even if it occasionally confuses me or I doubt it. I could move back to Illinois or St. Louis. I could try to get into a school here. I could move to friggin' Texas, and it's not like there's not a precedent. I could actually move anywhere. Isn't that right? Why not move to Maine or Pittsburgh or Cincinnati or Urbana or, I really don't know, Tampa? It doesn't matter. Actually, it does. It just matters almost totally less then walking into a library to track down literature on my topic. I haven't made a secret of it. I don't know. But someone is going to accept me, and I'm going to go there, and wherever that is, it means I'll be moving again - even if it's just across the city. Even thinking of reapplying is nervewracking. Feel free to offer advice.
Basically, it's something I really want to do. It is, I feel, really the only way to advance a career in my field, as well as my field of interest. But I've got a decent job right now, and my own place, so unlike before, trying to follow this up means I actually do have something to lose.
So, I'm starting trying to get my materials together for applications to schools for an MA. I know the drill. "Bad Weston, no biscuit." for waiting this long - absolutely. I have until December 11, though, so it's not beyond expectation. Apropos of nothing, at that point, I will be 26. I will have lived on my own for a year or so, and I will have had spent over two years making ends meet off and on. If that's not enough to be sure I want to go back for more education, then I can't think of anything that would do it for me.
I was afraid of doing this. Big things scare me. Little things, too, but I guess magnitude cows me into inaction. It is, after all, another change in the way I live. After changing my way of life drastically every few months, it becomes exhausting. After a certain point, I realize why people eventually settle down. How many skins can you shed? That's what it feels like. You move across country or get an apartment or sleep on your friends floor overstay your welcome, and each time you settle in again. When you move, your everything is tender and fresh, your nerves are exposed.
The big question is where I'm going. I've come to terms with the fact that some people want me around. The evidence exists for that interpretation, even if it occasionally confuses me or I doubt it. I could move back to Illinois or St. Louis. I could try to get into a school here. I could move to friggin' Texas, and it's not like there's not a precedent. I could actually move anywhere. Isn't that right? Why not move to Maine or Pittsburgh or Cincinnati or Urbana or, I really don't know, Tampa? It doesn't matter. Actually, it does. It just matters almost totally less then walking into a library to track down literature on my topic. I haven't made a secret of it. I don't know. But someone is going to accept me, and I'm going to go there, and wherever that is, it means I'll be moving again - even if it's just across the city. Even thinking of reapplying is nervewracking. Feel free to offer advice.
Basically, it's something I really want to do. It is, I feel, really the only way to advance a career in my field, as well as my field of interest. But I've got a decent job right now, and my own place, so unlike before, trying to follow this up means I actually do have something to lose.
