I am going to make the assumption I am not getting accepted to grad school this year. With four out of five rejections in, I think I can bet on the final rejection coming at some point in the next week or two. Or perhaps I should assume by their silence that it won’t happen this year.
If I were a traditional college student, I think this number of rejections would hurt a lot more. Early-twenties me would have taken the rejection much harder, which would have fueled my imposter syndrome in a way that perhaps would have made me reconsider writing. The self-deprecation of my skills was stronger then.
At twenty-seven I’m taking these rejection emails in stride. I can make some guesses as to why I’m being told no. My research subject was too odd. My research was too specific. My research wasn’t targeting the right school. I can’t art for the one MFA program I applied to. You know what, though? That’s fine.
I keep reminding myself that things happen for a reason.
I’ll sulk into some video games and comic books this weekend, maybe even treat myself to some Mr. Macs or tacos.
And then I’ll dive head first into the job applications. I’ll talk to some professors about their thoughts on my next steps, and see what advice they can give me.
I’ve been rejected from things before, and I’ve learned that I function best by taking my negative energy and putting it towards something new.
We’ll see what I make this time.