Unabashed worry

I spoke with the director of admissions at one of the universities that denied me admission last year. He said that there was nothing wrong with me, that the people who interviewed me recommended me enthusiastically for admission.

So what was the problem, then?

Apparently, two of my three recommendation letters were "superficial." This means that with my added experience, I should get accepted in the programs to which I applied. So people keep telling me.

It is the winter. My blood is cold. I can hardly fathom the spring. I can hardly fathom the idea that I didn't get in to school last year, so as far as I'm concerned, there's a really good chance that I will not this year either. It's really pressing down on me right now.

Oh, red wine! What would I do without thee?

I keep checking my email obsessively. I even checked to see what day I was notified of interviews last year. The time has passed for one school. For fuck's sake, I want to hear something. Something!

Fuck.

The horror!

Applications are in. All of them.

I need a fucking beer and the ability to sleep for about a month.

Contemplating murder

Can we please get a centralized application system like the one they have for medical school? That would be great. Thanks.

My letter writers like to give me heart attacks. I feel one coming.

"You mean the deadline is in twenty minutes? Ok, maybe I'll go get that coffee and then I'll write your letter."

Fuck.

No matter when I say the deadline is, this particular individual always waits until - literally - the last fucking minute. There I am, pacing the halls, clicking refresh obsessively, bloodshot eyes, the whole bit - and this person is calm and collected. Not even apologetic. If I should go to jail, this would be the reason.

The centralized application system would be great at moments like this. This person gets to do this to me another eight times. I can't wait!

Also, that sinking feeling I get in my stomach every time I hit the submit application button would only have to happen once. I would love that. I check over the fucking thing a million times, times nine. Nine for nine programs. Ugh.

I hate grad school already.