Alyanumbers

This happened today (!): I was sitting in class listening to a lecture on martyrdom in Islam. My phone buzzed. When I saw that it was from NYU Graduate Admissions, my heart stopped, and then I opened it and saw "We are pleased to offer you" and I just started grinning like a fool. My eyes even teared up.

My professor either thought I was really emotionally invested in her lecture or crazy.

I was at my mother's on a "shower break" from the revolution, as I'd spent the night on the pavement in front of the Parliament. I saw I had a new email message, and was expecting a journalist or a friend checking in on me; it was an automated message telling me I had a new message in my InTray on the uni's server. So there were 5 stressful minutes as I opened the website, and the page refused to load. Then as soon as I saw "Conditional offer of admission" in the subject line, I jumped around in joy. Exhaustion and worry dulled my emotions, though.

I was at my mother's on a "shower break" from the revolution, as I'd spent the night on the pavement in front of the Parliament. I saw I had a new email message, and was expecting a journalist or a friend checking in on me; it was an automated message telling me I had a new message in my InTray on the uni's server. So there were 5 stressful minutes as I opened the website, and the page refused to load. Then as soon as I saw "Conditional offer of admission" in the subject line, I jumped around in joy. Exhaustion and worry dulled my emotions, though.

Haha, well, this is pretty bad. But I had fun messing with it.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many an email server that I had just checked before.
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some interviewer,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Oh but I am such a bore!

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of worry - worry that had filled my core-
For the many horror stories that make up the adcom yore -
To whom my heart and soul I swore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Not an interviewer entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
A letter there, and nothing more.

Now onto that paper peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the thickness gave no token,
And the only word there written was the number on my door.
“Shit!” I whispered, closed my eyes and slammed the door.
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
The letter called me so much louder than it had before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is good news within that packet;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis good news and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the letter, and, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a kindly reject, condescending to the core.
Not the least allowance made it; for the hours spent in torture;
But, in fifteen fucking seconds, to the ground my dreams it tore -
“With great regret,” and “we are sorry,” brought my future to the floor.
“With great regret” and nothing more.

It was 4:00 on a beautiful, sunny california winter Friday, and I was on my front porch reading a romance novel and eating chocolate. I walk into the house to get away from the sun, and check my email (which is compulsive now, btw). I look and I see two emails, one from the POI at UCSB and the other from the DGS at UCLA, and I almost don't open them, because I'm so sun dazed. But then I do and I see-I got fully funded into 2 of the best Phd History programs in America! And I did such a happy dance that I pulled a muscle in my back, and I kissed my grandma and called everyone!!!

I had just woken up and reached beside by bed to open the computer. The letter was strangely formatted, first saying that a hard copy was in the mail, so it took me a little while to find the congratulations part. It was the middle of the day during the week and everyone I know was at work, so first I did the "nobody is watching me happy dance" then scooped up my cat and swung her around the room. The cat kept licking my face like she knew I was excited.

I was at my mother's on a "shower break" from the revolution, as I'd spent the night on the pavement in front of the Parliament. I saw I had a new email message, and was expecting a journalist or a friend checking in on me; it was an automated message telling me I had a new message in my InTray on the uni's server. So there were 5 stressful minutes as I opened the website, and the page refused to load. Then as soon as I saw "Conditional offer of admission" in the subject line, I jumped around in joy. Exhaustion and worry dulled my emotions, though.

I was at my mother's on a "shower break" from the revolution, as I'd spent the night on the pavement in front of the Parliament. I saw I had a new email message, and was expecting a journalist or a friend checking in on me; it was an automated message telling me I had a new message in my InTray on the uni's server. So there were 5 stressful minutes as I opened the website, and the page refused to load. Then as soon as I saw "Conditional offer of admission" in the subject line, I jumped around in joy. Exhaustion and worry dulled my emotions, though.

I was at my mother's on a "shower break" from the revolution, as I'd spent the night on the pavement in front of the Parliament. I saw I had a new email message, and was expecting a journalist or a friend checking in on me; it was an automated message telling me I had a new message in my InTray on the uni's server. So there were 5 stressful minutes as I opened the website, and the page refused to load. Then as soon as I saw "Conditional offer of admission" in the subject line, I jumped around in joy. Exhaustion and worry dulled my emotions, though.

Am I the only one who had nefarious flashbacks of the verbal section of the GRE when I read this post?

I have the most respect for people in all fields and think no less of one or the other. However, the "respect' is lower simply because of the applications of English pale in comparison to many other fields which have far larger impacts and address more pressing needs in the world. To most people, this is why English and many other Liberal Arts seem less "important".

I was at my mother's on a "shower break" from the revolution, as I'd spent the night on the pavement in front of the Parliament. I saw I had a new email message, and was expecting a journalist or a friend checking in on me; it was an automated message telling me I had a new message in my InTray on the uni's server. So there were 5 stressful minutes as I opened the website, and the page refused to load. Then as soon as I saw "Conditional offer of admission" in the subject line, I jumped around in joy. Exhaustion and worry dulled my emotions, though.

I was at my mother's on a "shower break" from the revolution, as I'd spent the night on the pavement in front of the Parliament. I saw I had a new email message, and was expecting a journalist or a friend checking in on me; it was an automated message telling me I had a new message in my InTray on the uni's server. So there were 5 stressful minutes as I opened the website, and the page refused to load. Then as soon as I saw "Conditional offer of admission" in the subject line, I jumped around in joy. Exhaustion and worry dulled my emotions, though.

This is my favourite.

My screen name is the title of a book by Elias Canetti, whose work I really appreciate.

The avatar is some graffiti from here in Beirut. It's not really funny unless you know Arabic pop culture, but it's a stencil of the diva Umm Kalthoum sing the lyrics from a trashy pop song by Haifa Wehbe.

Heh, thanks! I'm just very aware of my privilege (I grew up in a left-wing middle-class intellectual family, went to French school, speak 4 languages, etc). I care about the workers' rights movements, and don't want to be involved as a privileged outsider. Your plan also sounds lovely...

I don't have any savings, but I want to go to South America (that might be easier to do if I end up in the US for the next 6 years!), and India, for two months each. I've planned to since I was 15, when it suddenly hit me that when I have a job, responsibilities, my own family (or at least aging parents who need me), I won't be able to do those crazy, non-serious, irresponsible things.

Eventually, I also hope to open a public library, something there is a dearth of in my country. I love books, so this would be an amazing project for me.

At this point, that would be a good dream. You can call me whatever you want, as long as you accept me.

Other: Sell all my crap and move back to Europe. Get job as a) translator, pastry chef, c) itinerant writer/journalist/busker (people will pay me to shut up).

My tongue-in-cheek reply is: "Get married and pregnant"

Actually I have pipe dreams of becoming personal trainer certified and opening a gym called Viking Fitness that does normal gym stuff and also western martial arts/demo combat training. I would probably re-apply just once more, but I'm not sure. But I would like to get into fitness if medieval art history doesn't work out.

What a great poll!

Uhhhh, see a different therapist. This sounds quite serious, and I'm a little shocked at how casually she's treating it.

You're hilarious.

I thought of another regret: becoming so ridiculously attached to specific schools! Like, it's good in the sense that it made me work very hard to perfect my applications, but at the same time.... by being this emotionally invested, I run the risk of being devastated and living out the rest of the semester locked up in my room, in the fetal position, crying. While eating ice cream. With Doritos. And I would TOTALLY regret that, which might lead to other regrets, and that'd make this thirty regret pile up. Like NASCAR, except sadder.

I do similar things! Probably just weird but not necessarily unhealthy responses to the enormous amount of stress we're all under right now.

Good news from a single school would seriously change my entire outlook on life. I haven't felt entirely like myself since this process began, which was LAST fall for me. I am so anxious and worried almost 24/7. ARGH.

One of my freshmen comp students couldn't make it to the first class because of the winter weather. He sent an e-mail that started: "Mr. O'Neil, I regret to inform you that I will not be in class today." When he walked into class today, I told him that I am currently waiting for results from PhD applications, and he is NEVER to send me an e-mail with "I regret to inform you that" in it again. I told him that I don't care what the news is--Always open with a "Congratulations!"