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Tick ... tick ... tick ... tick ...


Milo_10011

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"Your application is currently being reviewed by your graduate program.

The Office of Admissions will notify you when the program has submitted its decision."

And the waiting begins. The terrible waiting ...

Oh so I'm not alone? I thought I was the only one on the planet still waiting for their final school's decision.

I sent them about a week ago. The reply: we are still "deliberating."

OK then. Take your time, dear committee. I've already swallowed the idea that I'm not going anywhere this fall. It would certainly be a surprise if you accept me, but you'll be somewhat messing up with the plans I'm setting right now for the coming year. Anyway, it's up to you. No pressure.

GOOD LUCK TO ALL OF YOU OUT THERE STILL WAITING!

Edited by PhD Pharmacist
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It's tough. Friends of mine got decisions at the beginning of the month, or before. Right now, I feel like I'm floating in outer space... but trying to be productive about that. Been riding my bike quite a bit and re-evaluating my self and life.

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I'm in the same boat as everyone here. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Checking Kent State's website 2 times a day hoping that it'll be different. But alas not yet.

I was accepted to one program but without guaranteed funding. So I'm definitely going -somewhere- this fall but hopefully somewhere with funding.

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So, I was sitting on the porch this afternoon, waiting for the mailman. This isn't a grad school thing. I always sit out there from 10 a.m. until whenever the mailman shows up. You know, just because. Wouldn't want him to forget to stop at my address, which COULD happen if aforementioned mailman had, for instance, fallen and hit his damned head on the sidewalk or something. Concussions and mail delivery are not a good match.

Anyway, the grad department has been evaluating applications for four days now. (Four days, 8 hours, 16 minutes and X seconds, but I don't want to be picky here.)

So, does my mailman have a decision letter for me today? No. He does not! That rotten, lousy, filthy, son of a b____, that f______ a______, does not. He's got bills and letters and magazines and rubber bands in his little mail trolley thing. I know because I pulled everything out of it to make sure the letter hadn't fallen into a hidden pocket in the bag. You do know that the mail bags have hidden pockets, didn't you? It's a well-kept secret, but it's true. That blue-clad cockadoodie liar tried to convince me he wasn't hiding the letter. After I got through cutting into all the seams in his undergarments to make sure he hadn't hidden it there, I had to untie him and let him finish his rounds.

But I know he's got that letter, and he's just holding back on delivering it to screw with me. I know it. He's in on it with the grad school committee. They're ALL in on it.

But that's okay. As this post clearly shows, I'm a very calm, rational person who is able to evaluate situations with a methodical and practical air.

So help me, if that g_______ f________ mailman doesn't have that letter when he delivers the mail on Monday, he can kiss his Christmas bonus good-bye.

I won't be ignored, Daniel!!!1!

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So, I was sitting on the porch this afternoon, waiting for the mailman. This isn't a grad school thing. I always sit out there from 10 a.m. until whenever the mailman shows up. You know, just because. Wouldn't want him to forget to stop at my address, which COULD happen if aforementioned mailman had, for instance, fallen and hit his damned head on the sidewalk or something. Concussions and mail delivery are not a good match.

Anyway, the grad department has been evaluating applications for four days now. (Four days, 8 hours, 16 minutes and X seconds, but I don't want to be picky here.)

So, does my mailman have a decision letter for me today? No. He does not! That rotten, lousy, filthy, son of a b____, that f______ a______, does not. He's got bills and letters and magazines and rubber bands in his little mail trolley thing. I know because I pulled everything out of it to make sure the letter hadn't fallen into a hidden pocket in the bag. You do know that the mail bags have hidden pockets, didn't you? It's a well-kept secret, but it's true. That blue-clad cockadoodie liar tried to convince me he wasn't hiding the letter. After I got through cutting into all the seams in his undergarments to make sure he hadn't hidden it there, I had to untie him and let him finish his rounds.

But I know he's got that letter, and he's just holding back on delivering it to screw with me. I know it. He's in on it with the grad school committee. They're ALL in on it.

But that's okay. As this post clearly shows, I'm a very calm, rational person who is able to evaluate situations with a methodical and practical air.

So help me, if that g_______ f________ mailman doesn't have that letter when he delivers the mail on Monday, he can kiss his Christmas bonus good-bye.

I won't be ignored, Daniel!!!1!

I am -totally- feeling your pain. I think a little piece of me dies every time the mail comes and nothing's in it for me right now. Ugh!

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Okay, technically, the committee only started reviewing on Monday because the final day for submissions was April 30. And you know they'll take any excuse they can find to not come in to work on a Sunday.

I keep recalling the scene from an episode of King of the Hill. Hank Hill is trying to quit cigarettes. So he's sitting there reading the newspaper, quietly tearing it into long, thin strips.

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So, I was sitting on the porch this afternoon, waiting for the mailman. This isn't a grad school thing. I always sit out there from 10 a.m. until whenever the mailman shows up. You know, just because. Wouldn't want him to forget to stop at my address, which COULD happen if aforementioned mailman had, for instance, fallen and hit his damned head on the sidewalk or something. Concussions and mail delivery are not a good match.

Anyway, the grad department has been evaluating applications for four days now. (Four days, 8 hours, 16 minutes and X seconds, but I don't want to be picky here.)

So, does my mailman have a decision letter for me today? No. He does not! That rotten, lousy, filthy, son of a b____, that f______ a______, does not. He's got bills and letters and magazines and rubber bands in his little mail trolley thing. I know because I pulled everything out of it to make sure the letter hadn't fallen into a hidden pocket in the bag. You do know that the mail bags have hidden pockets, didn't you? It's a well-kept secret, but it's true. That blue-clad cockadoodie liar tried to convince me he wasn't hiding the letter. After I got through cutting into all the seams in his undergarments to make sure he hadn't hidden it there, I had to untie him and let him finish his rounds.

But I know he's got that letter, and he's just holding back on delivering it to screw with me. I know it. He's in on it with the grad school committee. They're ALL in on it.

But that's okay. As this post clearly shows, I'm a very calm, rational person who is able to evaluate situations with a methodical and practical air.

So help me, if that g_______ f________ mailman doesn't have that letter when he delivers the mail on Monday, he can kiss his Christmas bonus good-bye.

I won't be ignored, Daniel!!!1!

You see this is more than reasonable because most people don't sit and watch for the mailman, they just go and retrieve their postal deliveries at their earliest convenience. But that's not the right way to do it. You have to watch them...carefully...painstakingly. When you allow them to simply to do their bidding without supervision they're rather like mischievous nymphs playing with your mail...some of it ends up in the mailbox, while some of it goes somewhere else...kind of like the sock that disappears in the drier. I only found this out because while I too was contemplating checking into Happy Acres mental hospital because the wait for "the letter" was turning into a burden far too great to bare, I came to a decision. I thought it just can't be taking this long, the mailman is up to no good. It made the most sense to me at the time. So I figured I'd sit, clandestinely, and wait for the mailman. In my neighborhood the mailboxes are all centrally located at the "clubhouse" so I got in the car, parked across the street, put on the biggest, roundest, darkest sunglasses I had and watched hunched down. The wait for my letter was driving me over the edge, so I had to put a stop to it, I had to get to the source of my misery, twas not the admissions committees, but the mailman. Yes. A few minutes, my wait is over, there it is, the white boxy truck with the red and blue stripes with the abstract eagle on it, which for me always conjured up mild feelings of patriotism and a sense of the kind of stability only America enjoys...like the people that drive these trucks make this country go 'round. But that day it was a different feeling all together. As I fixed my gaze, enhanced by binoculars, on the unsuspecting mailman I waited for him to get to my box. He was rather jolly, almost skipping, singing a happy tune if you will. My heart skipped as I saw him get close with a large white packet...it's here! I almost ran up to him to reward him with a kiss...but much to my dismay I caught him inspecting the packet, a creepy grin stretched across his face. What could he be doing? Why wasn't he looking at anyone else's mail like that? Instead of sliding the packet into my box, he began to take bites out of it. Horrified I jumped out of the car and marched across the street in an authoritative fashion. "What are you freakin' doing?" He was startled, but he still scampered off, skipping just as had before...in a nymph like manor, seemed almost delighted and certainly not phased by being caught in a most ungracious act. The remainder of his papery feast lay on the ground, in of course the only puddle for miles under the hot Arizona sun. And I'm almost certain he took just a moment to glance back in slight disappointment over his loss and whispered..."my precious." I gingerly picked it up...it was from one of my schools, I could still make out the logo despite the chunk missing, I tore the rest of it open and there it was...my dream come true. But you see, let this and the post above be a lesson to you all...the mailman is the culprit, not the admissions committees. If I didn't catch him, the mailman would have digested my acceptance letter, along with my hopes and dreams. I'd also by this point be rocking myself to sleep in a padded room, but tis not the case, now I'm happily, and more importantly, sanely preparing for grad school.

Edited by Mal83
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  • 2 weeks later...

So It's 12:01 May 19th and the website for Kent State has finally changed from "Applied and Complete" to "Decision Made" :-D! I'm IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG I had to wake up my parents and tell them. lol Now just to wait for the aid package and figure out how I'm paying for this. And of course... how to let down my other offer gently..

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So It's 12:01 May 19th and the website for Kent State has finally changed from "Applied and Complete" to "Decision Made" :-D! I'm IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG I had to wake up my parents and tell them. lol Now just to wait for the aid package and figure out how I'm paying for this. And of course... how to let down my other offer gently..

CONGRATSSSSSSSSSSS!

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So It's 12:01 May 19th and the website for Kent State has finally changed from "Applied and Complete" to "Decision Made" :-D! I'm IN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG I had to wake up my parents and tell them. lol Now just to wait for the aid package and figure out how I'm paying for this. And of course... how to let down my other offer gently..

Congrats!!!! That's how I felt at 7:30am this past Friday when I checked my email as soon as I woke up and found a "congratulations!" in my inbox from my dream school after being waitlisted since March. Luckily my parents were already up because I just went around the house looking for them just going "I got in to GW!! I got in to GW!!" It was like the best moment I've had in a long time.

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  • 1 month later...

You're right. They spend their time doing less productive things.

mellow.gifmellow.gif

Yeah, they would feel much better about themselves if they started sitting and watching for the mailman more often. I know I do.

Edited by Mal83
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  • 2 weeks later...

Man...trust me I know how it feels and lot of folks on this board have been through the same thing. I am still waiting for my decision. So you're not the only one out there.

I applied for the program in May and then they extended deadline until few days ago. I was invited to interview 2 weeks ago and it went OK in my opinion.

Now I'm waiting for that e-mail like crazy...it is terrible...I never felt so anxious. I check my inbox like 10 times per day and every time I get something I get excited and then I find out it is a junk mail lol

I'm gonna start racking some booze on my working desk :D

Hang in there brother!!! It is tough as hell but eventually it will come down to realization I hope.

All the best!!!!

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