For the past few weeks I have been checking my mailbox compulsively.
I’ve been imagining a meeting room filled with people and paperwork, and only hoping that my grad school application would be noticed, remembered, accepted . . . dare I say appreciated?
Last night I spent a good 20 minutes forcing my anxiety upon my old friend, Sandy. “I heard they’re supposed to get back to you in late February or early March! Well, it’s March 11th and I still don’t know where my applications are.”
Sandy tried to reassure me as I bit at my nails.
When I got home, I scooped some leftovers onto a plate and walked into the dark living room, where the only light was coming from the TV. I sat down at the table, sighed, and began to shovel spoonfuls of macaroni salad into my mouth. As my brother chortled over something on South Park, a large envelope caught my eye.
Is that the Ryerson logo?
I dropped my fork, practically spat out the macaroni, flicked on the lights, snatched the envelope and tore it open.”Why didn’t anyone tell me this was here? Why didn’t anyone tell me this was HERE?!” I shrieked.
My brother stared at the screen and shrugged. My sister murmured something about not knowing what I was talking about.
I yanked the papers out of the envelope but couldn’t bring myself to read past the first line:
Dear Ms. Carletti.
My throat went dry. I slowly rose from the table. “I am PLEASED to inform you . . .the Journalism program has approved your admission to Ryerson University.”
My brother and sister stopped what they were doing and looked at me. There was a split second of silence and then . . .
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yeees!” I lept into the air and lunged toward my little sister. She sprang up and hugged me and we spun around in gloriously exaggerated circles. (And this was before I’d even read about the scholarship.)
Finally! The culmination of all those fees, essays, recommendation letters, transcripts, application forms and sleepless nights. I get to stay in this city with my family. I get to work with some of the best journalists in the country. I get to intern in Toronto, the media hub of Canada! I can’t wait!
I know I’m supposed to be modest and discreet but I haven’t felt this exicted in weeks! I’m aware of what the industry looks like and I know full well that I am crazy for going into Journalism . . . but I tell you, ladies and gentleman, that crazy feels really really good today.