Verses of despair

[fall-11]

The heart asks acceptance first,

And then, to not have heard,

And then, that awful waitlist,

In limbo, awaiting the word;

And then, to go to sleep,

The fragile nerves to ease;

And then, a gentle arrest

The weakened heart to seize.

[hopefulwoolfian]

Wonderful! A bit of doggrel to add (may Donne's ghost not haunt me for this desecration):

I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I

Did, till we heard? were we not wean'd till then? 

But suck'd on games of waiting. childishly ? 

Or snorted we in the Grad Cafe's den ?

'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;

If ever any acceptance I did see, 

Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of university.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls, 

Which watcheth the results page out of fear ;

For waiting all love of other sights controls,

And makes one little email an everywhere.

Let sea-discoverers to new programs have gone ;

Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ;

Let us possess at least one acceptance ; each hath one, and is one. 

A letter in thine eye, one in mine appears, 

And true crazed waiting does in the faces rest ;

Where can we find two better universities

Without sharp TA load, without declining stipend ?

Whatever result comes was not mix'd equally ;

If our two hopes be one, or thou and I 

Wait so alike that none can slacken, none can die.

Edited February 14, 2011 by hopefulwoolfian

[crae]

Where can we find two better universities

Without sharp TA load, without declining stipend ?

LOL!! Oh my lord, I am nowhere near as clever as you two, so I'll just say thanks for that.

[fall-11]

I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I

Did, till we heard? were we not wean'd till then?

But suck'd on games of waiting. childishly ?

Or snorted we in the Grad Cafe's den ?

'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;

If ever any acceptance I did see,

Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of university.

Oh my goodness -- I laughed so hard at this! But now that the laughing's done, I feel like crying again... the "dream of university" does seem so much like a "fancy" right now

[hopefulwoolfian]

Oh my goodness -- I laughed so hard at this! But now that the laughing's done, I feel like crying again... the "dream of university" does seem so much like a "fancy" right now

I know; that's the despair part. But don't cry yet; at least we're all in this together.

Edited February 14, 2011 by hopefulwoolfian

[crae]

I second that. So many schools haven't even begun notifying yet. You never know what's going to happen!

[fall-11]

Thanks hopefulwoolfian and crae -- what would I do without this forum?

Anyone else want to contribute some doggerel for distraction? It's a great way to procrastinate from your thesis!

[apieceofroastbeef]

Wonderful! A bit of doggrel to add (may Donne's ghost not haunt me for this desecration):

I WONDER by my troth, what thou and I

Did, till we heard? were we not wean'd till then?

But suck'd on games of waiting. childishly ?

Or snorted we in the Grad Cafe's den ?

'Twas so ; but this, all pleasures fancies be ;

If ever any acceptance I did see,

Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of university.

And now good-morrow to our waking souls,

Which watcheth the results page out of fear ;

For waiting all love of other sights controls,

And makes one little email an everywhere.

Let sea-discoverers to new programs have gone ;

Let maps to other, worlds on worlds have shown ;

Let us possess at least one acceptance ; each hath one, and is one.

A letter in thine eye, one in mine appears,

And true crazed waiting does in the faces rest ;

Where can we find two better universities

Without sharp TA load, without declining stipend ?

Whatever result comes was not mix'd equally ;

If our two hopes be one, or thou and I

Wait so alike that none can slacken, none can die.

Wow.

I was just going to quote the rather obvious:

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

[fall-11]

I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!

Shouldn't that be: I fall at the feet of adcoms! I plead!

[Cato's Daughter]

 These are awesome! What a fun idea. I have adapted some lines from Shakespeare's Cassius, the true master of the self-pitying diatribe. Unfortunately, my lines don't quite scan

 

Come, Chicago, and cold Wisconsin, come,

Revenge yourselves alone on this poor applicant,

For she is aweary of the world;

Hated by one she loves; braved by her top choice; 

Check'd like an adjunct; all her faults observed, 

Set in a rejection letter, learn'd, and conn'd by rote,

To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep

My spirit from mine eyes! There is my dagger,

And here my naked breast; within, a heart

Dearer than the sum of all of your collected app fees, richer than gold.

I that denied thee an adequate writing sample will give my heart

Strike, as thou didst at my friend Jane, 

Whom thou didst waitlist last year, for I know, 

When thou didst hate Jane worst, thou lovest her better

Than ever thou lovest me! 

Edited February 15, 2011 by Cato's Daughter

[apieceofroastbeef]

Shouldn't that be: I fall at the feet of adcoms! I plead!

You are obviously more imaginative than I am...

[fall-11]

You are obviously more imaginative than I am...

Not at all! I'm probably just more desperate and ready to grovel for an acceptance if necessary

[bottles]

I love this. I love all of this.

I especially love how I am getting to know everyone by seeing their usernames around every day & night...I'm pitiful.

"Whose mail is this? I think I know.

No mail for me? oh, helllll no!"

is all I can come up with...I hate that soul-crushing void of an empty mailbox.

Edited February 15, 2011 by bottles

[RestorationJunkie]

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.

Edited February 15, 2011 by cyborgmanifesto

[wanderlust07]

Cyborg: Marry me.

[alexdelarge]

This is the way the world ends

Not with a bang but a whimper

[it feels like that, right?]

[crae]

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.

Oh my god. I know these poems are depressing, but they are also completely hilarious. This is awesome.

[RestorationJunkie]

Cyborg: Marry me.

Hm, maybe tomorrow. Marrying you today would ruin a perfectly good Singles Appreciation Day!

[fall-11]

Cyborg -- that's awesome, I love it!!

[fall-11]

Cyborg: Marry me.

Aww, that's so sweet -- love on the Grad Cafe Ha ha, that's what happens when we're all stuck nervously on the Grad Cafe 24-7, even on Valentine's Day!

[crae]

You guys inspired me! Here's my adaptation of Sonnet 35, dedicated to the schools who haven't replied:

Thou shouldst be griev'd at that which thou hast done -

like a geriatric cow, chewing on its cud,

thou hast delayed decisions, taken away the fun.

If I be not impatient, thou mayst call me mud.

All (wo)men make faults, but not I in this -

I do not authorize thy trespass with compare.

Other schools have replied - what is amiss?

We here on Gradcafe are tearing out our hair.

Nigh three months ago our apps were sent.

What the fuck? Shouldst we obtain an advocate?

Alas, 'gainst ourselves the lawful pleas commence:

Are we good enough? Do we need a survival kit?

(Read: Glenfiddich, Jack Daniel's, and Chianti -

more or less, depending on the answers, as need be.)

[gradgirlwannabe]

Ooo!!! I want to try!

The Brief Email

so much depends

upon

a brief e-

mail

glazed in sweet

consent

in my in

box

[RestorationJunkie]

Ooo!!! I want to try!

The Brief Email

so much depends

upon

a brief e-

mail

glazed in sweet

consent

in my in

box

Love it!

[TheOtherJake]

The apparition of these rejections in the email:

leaves on a wet black bough

[ssundva]

I think Rimbaud was awaiting responses from schools when he wrote "A Season in Hell."