Getting things done
Last night at the last minute, I filled in playing doubles for one of my teammates. We played in slot 2, instead of 3--the spot I'm used to playing. (Two is more skilled than 3.) I'm already playing up a skill level; I am ranked 2.5 (or beginner) but our team is competing at 3.0. So basically, my partner (who, objectively speaking, is slightly less good than me) and I went up against a team who was much better than us.
I always say (I have to. I lost every game I played this summer.) that I don't mind losing, I just don't like playing poorly. But since getting a taste for winning last week (my first time ever!), who am I kidding? Winning is still better than losing.
Nevertheless, I wouldn't have minded losing, but that I could do nothing right last night, and our opponents were skilled enough to place the ball exactly out of my reach. I did a lot of running, lunging, and cursing mightily. I am never sure how much I offend my teammates and opponents by my swearing, but words seem to escape my lips no matter how much I try to avoid obscenity.
So I wasn't able to bring myself to get a chocolate malt after, for that's a treat for playing well. Instead, I went home and downloaded transcript requests for all the colleges and universities I've attended. I completed the forms, wrote the checks, and put them in the mail. Then I prepared the letters of reference forms for my supervisor, who has agreed to write a letter of recommendation for me.
Small things, but the beginning of the grad school application process, and I'm glad I started. It's pretty terrifying to think about--mostly the expense of it all. We were discussing it this week, and Tim said, "It's like we're waiting for a deus ex machina to resolve our money concerns." And I think I had been. Hoping that my grandmother would pick up on my psychic vibes, and offer me loans for school; hoping grantees picked up word of me through the grapevine, and were preparing their big checks for me; hoping Loyola revised its policy of distributing the wealth to a bunch of students and decided instead to grant me a full scholarship.
I don't know how to make this work. I don't know how to return to the city I love, the city I need to be in, do the work I love, and survive. Forget about psychic nourishment; what about the physical nourishment? How will we afford groceries? Rent? Utilities?
I always say (I have to. I lost every game I played this summer.) that I don't mind losing, I just don't like playing poorly. But since getting a taste for winning last week (my first time ever!), who am I kidding? Winning is still better than losing.
Nevertheless, I wouldn't have minded losing, but that I could do nothing right last night, and our opponents were skilled enough to place the ball exactly out of my reach. I did a lot of running, lunging, and cursing mightily. I am never sure how much I offend my teammates and opponents by my swearing, but words seem to escape my lips no matter how much I try to avoid obscenity.
So I wasn't able to bring myself to get a chocolate malt after, for that's a treat for playing well. Instead, I went home and downloaded transcript requests for all the colleges and universities I've attended. I completed the forms, wrote the checks, and put them in the mail. Then I prepared the letters of reference forms for my supervisor, who has agreed to write a letter of recommendation for me.
Small things, but the beginning of the grad school application process, and I'm glad I started. It's pretty terrifying to think about--mostly the expense of it all. We were discussing it this week, and Tim said, "It's like we're waiting for a deus ex machina to resolve our money concerns." And I think I had been. Hoping that my grandmother would pick up on my psychic vibes, and offer me loans for school; hoping grantees picked up word of me through the grapevine, and were preparing their big checks for me; hoping Loyola revised its policy of distributing the wealth to a bunch of students and decided instead to grant me a full scholarship.
I don't know how to make this work. I don't know how to return to the city I love, the city I need to be in, do the work I love, and survive. Forget about psychic nourishment; what about the physical nourishment? How will we afford groceries? Rent? Utilities?
posted by LE at 7:23 AM
1 Comments:
O sweetie, sometimes, just sometimes you have to look down when you are the top of the cliff, laugh and just leap. That's the only way you can fly.
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