The Graduate Admissions Gods must have been pleased by my words last night because they've responded to my blog-offering with great tidings: admission to Northwestern and NYU.
I actually was admitted to Northwestern almost two weeks ago but I didn't learn of it until the NW admissions office called me today to find out why I've been such a slowpoke in checking my application status.
Barely minutes later I also received an email telling me that I've been nominated for a full-ride at NW. And when I went to pick up my NW acceptance packet in the mail, lo and behold but an NYU packet was riding piggy-back.
Excuse me while I go burn some incense and quiver with happiness.
March 27, 2008
March 26, 2008
Waiting...
I'm currently in the midst of that old admissions game known as "waiting for the mail." I've had the good fortune to hear back from USC with an acceptance letter. I'm also 90% certain that I'll be awarded acceptance into CUNY's program if the level of their wooing is any indication.
I have no idea what to expect from the other schools.
My focus lately has fallen on other topics, which is probably for the best. I've encountered a frustrating rash of computer problems the last couple of weeks which has all but stopped me from writing anything new. I've re-learned that taking a few days off from writing, whether it's a simple blog post like this or a lengthy article with actual value to society (obviously I'm not writing from experience on that second item), can make a blank page look awfully intimidating.
Every book or quote about writing I've ever read somehow makes the point that it is difficult. I tend to agree with those statements. If I were a wittier person I'd even say that the only people who can face a blank page without any fear are those making paper airplanes. Actually that's not half bad.
In any case, it's going to be important for me to keep on trucking -- and writing. If I were a more pompous person I'd say that I need to keep honing my craft, but I think I'd have to wear a bowtie and smoke a pipe to get away with those words and I barely remember to zip my fly half the time. Not to mention smoke makes me wheeze like a four-year-old with a clogged nose.
So here's to waiting for the big news in the mail, and not forgetting to take care of business in the meantime.
I have no idea what to expect from the other schools.
My focus lately has fallen on other topics, which is probably for the best. I've encountered a frustrating rash of computer problems the last couple of weeks which has all but stopped me from writing anything new. I've re-learned that taking a few days off from writing, whether it's a simple blog post like this or a lengthy article with actual value to society (obviously I'm not writing from experience on that second item), can make a blank page look awfully intimidating.
Every book or quote about writing I've ever read somehow makes the point that it is difficult. I tend to agree with those statements. If I were a wittier person I'd even say that the only people who can face a blank page without any fear are those making paper airplanes. Actually that's not half bad.
In any case, it's going to be important for me to keep on trucking -- and writing. If I were a more pompous person I'd say that I need to keep honing my craft, but I think I'd have to wear a bowtie and smoke a pipe to get away with those words and I barely remember to zip my fly half the time. Not to mention smoke makes me wheeze like a four-year-old with a clogged nose.
So here's to waiting for the big news in the mail, and not forgetting to take care of business in the meantime.
February 8, 2008
Moving On or Moving Out
I helped one of my roommates move out today as he apparently decided to leave New York and head back home. I say apparently because he didn't tell anyone that he was moving. In fact, the only way we knew he had moved out was when I opened his door yesterday afternoon and found nothing but dirty carpet, lingering smoke residue, and an old pair of dress shoes in the closet. I immediately thought of Tom Arnold in True Lies when he complained about his ex-wife who took everything when she left him, right down to the ice cube trays in the freezer.
I can shake my head and chuckle at the situation because I'm not my landlord who is now missing one third of a rent check (we came into the apartment separately so we don't pay our rent together). I think my apartment-survivor's-guilt led me to vacuum my ex-roommate's room for my landlord but otherwise I'm relatively unaffected by his sudden getaway.
My ex-roommate, who I will call Brent because that's his name, was obviously having a difficult time since he moved here from Rhode Island in early December. He's twenty-five and the oldest of our (ex) trio of roommates but I could tell that he had done the least growing up. One late night while we were chatting he admitted to me that his parents still cleaned up all his messes for him: tuition bills, speeding tickets, moving costs, you name it. It was that same night that he told me (not in so many words, but the message was clear) that he often walked the streets because he was lonely and that beer was "his most favorite thing in the world."
And even though Brent lied to me about his plans I can't help but feel some sympathy for his situation.
A couple month ago I was in a similar conundrum though it now feels like it happened closer to a year ago. I was juggling impending grad school applications and the pressures of my internship, and one night I hit my first snag in my new night job. When I got back to my apartment at three or four in the morning I took to the streets like Brent did and I called home.
My parents listened to my challenges and declared their unconditional support for me. But then they urged me to keep trying. I was already considering waiting another year for my grad school applications but they helped me realize that no matter how long I waited, I would have to buckle down at some point. And if I didn't get in, well, I already faced that possibility anyway. A month later I'm very, very glad I followed their advice. It certainly wasn't easy moving past that difficult period but I know now I made the right decision to keep moving forward.
I'm not sure if Brent made a similar call back home. I suspect he did because I'm pretty certain he was very short on money and would have needed his family's help once again to move out. It's too bad he wasn't able to make a different decision because now he'll have to erase the last two months of his life from his resume and his housing history and he'll have nothing to show for it but another mess his parents had to clean up for him.
It's a struggle to not think less of him for what he did. He lied to myself and my roommate. He may have shorted us on his share of the utilities (I'm not sure if he settled with my roommate), and my landlord told me that Brent lied to her face about moving out. They crossed paths in our building's stairwell amidst moving furniture and he said that he was staying put. The poor sap.
I suppose I could have tried harder to reach out to him, but that's hard to do when somebody holds back their true intentions from you.
I'm going to do my best to remember Brent. Because I know I'll be running into challenging spots for the rest of my life, and when I do I'll think WWBD -- "What would Brent do?" And then I'll do the opposite.
I can shake my head and chuckle at the situation because I'm not my landlord who is now missing one third of a rent check (we came into the apartment separately so we don't pay our rent together). I think my apartment-survivor's-guilt led me to vacuum my ex-roommate's room for my landlord but otherwise I'm relatively unaffected by his sudden getaway.
My ex-roommate, who I will call Brent because that's his name, was obviously having a difficult time since he moved here from Rhode Island in early December. He's twenty-five and the oldest of our (ex) trio of roommates but I could tell that he had done the least growing up. One late night while we were chatting he admitted to me that his parents still cleaned up all his messes for him: tuition bills, speeding tickets, moving costs, you name it. It was that same night that he told me (not in so many words, but the message was clear) that he often walked the streets because he was lonely and that beer was "his most favorite thing in the world."
And even though Brent lied to me about his plans I can't help but feel some sympathy for his situation.
A couple month ago I was in a similar conundrum though it now feels like it happened closer to a year ago. I was juggling impending grad school applications and the pressures of my internship, and one night I hit my first snag in my new night job. When I got back to my apartment at three or four in the morning I took to the streets like Brent did and I called home.
My parents listened to my challenges and declared their unconditional support for me. But then they urged me to keep trying. I was already considering waiting another year for my grad school applications but they helped me realize that no matter how long I waited, I would have to buckle down at some point. And if I didn't get in, well, I already faced that possibility anyway. A month later I'm very, very glad I followed their advice. It certainly wasn't easy moving past that difficult period but I know now I made the right decision to keep moving forward.
I'm not sure if Brent made a similar call back home. I suspect he did because I'm pretty certain he was very short on money and would have needed his family's help once again to move out. It's too bad he wasn't able to make a different decision because now he'll have to erase the last two months of his life from his resume and his housing history and he'll have nothing to show for it but another mess his parents had to clean up for him.
It's a struggle to not think less of him for what he did. He lied to myself and my roommate. He may have shorted us on his share of the utilities (I'm not sure if he settled with my roommate), and my landlord told me that Brent lied to her face about moving out. They crossed paths in our building's stairwell amidst moving furniture and he said that he was staying put. The poor sap.
I suppose I could have tried harder to reach out to him, but that's hard to do when somebody holds back their true intentions from you.
I'm going to do my best to remember Brent. Because I know I'll be running into challenging spots for the rest of my life, and when I do I'll think WWBD -- "What would Brent do?" And then I'll do the opposite.
February 4, 2008
The Light at the End of the Tunnel
Nearly two weeks have passed since I took Columbia's written application test so I had fallen out of my "professional journalist" mindset by the time I went in for an interview today at CUNY.
I blame my late work hours for part of my lack of focus and I blame my attempt at maintaining a pre-noon wake-up call for the rest -- that misguided project has only succeeded in making me sleepy anytime I'm not physically drooling on my pillow.
I also blame the Super Bowl for being so exciting that I had to watch it and stay out late enough that I had to spend the night at my brother's apartment before dragging myself to my place in the morning. My interview was at 3pm but I always have to set aside an extra four or five hours to dress myself appropriately. Because I suck at dressing appropriately, see.
Case in point: Of all the clothes I wore at my interview today, the shoes, pants, shirt, and sweater were either purchased today or else acquired so recently they had never been worn. I'm pretty certain tags were still sticking out of me when I walked through CUNY's doors.
Despite my inability to dress myself in a professional manner I think I actually made a good impression. I even got the impression that CUNY wants me.
I certainly found a lot to like after touring their facilities. They have state of the art equipment, and by state of the art equipment I mean stuff that flashes and beeps and does things that I can't comprehend. The students were dressed very nicely, which isn't necessarily a positive sign for me, but the faculty members I spoke to were very energetic, experienced, and more than happy to answer my questions.
If I had to compare my interview with a movie, I'd go with The Cutting Edge. I played the role of Doug Dorsey, the hockey player who carries an extra helmet to throw up in before the game because the first ten minutes of my interview I was so nervous and inarticulate that I felt like one of those zoo monkeys that hoots a lot but can't effectively communicate intelligent thought. Thankfully my interviewer was a very kind lady who didn't acknowledge my brief regression into the animal kingdom.
CUNY's program looks fresh (it's less than two years old), hungry, motivated and thorough. It also doesn't hurt that it's a fourth of the cost of any other program I've applied to.
I'll definitely be going back to check out a class or a talk and hopefully I'll remember not to hoot at anyone. Or throw up.
I blame my late work hours for part of my lack of focus and I blame my attempt at maintaining a pre-noon wake-up call for the rest -- that misguided project has only succeeded in making me sleepy anytime I'm not physically drooling on my pillow.
I also blame the Super Bowl for being so exciting that I had to watch it and stay out late enough that I had to spend the night at my brother's apartment before dragging myself to my place in the morning. My interview was at 3pm but I always have to set aside an extra four or five hours to dress myself appropriately. Because I suck at dressing appropriately, see.
Case in point: Of all the clothes I wore at my interview today, the shoes, pants, shirt, and sweater were either purchased today or else acquired so recently they had never been worn. I'm pretty certain tags were still sticking out of me when I walked through CUNY's doors.
Despite my inability to dress myself in a professional manner I think I actually made a good impression. I even got the impression that CUNY wants me.
I certainly found a lot to like after touring their facilities. They have state of the art equipment, and by state of the art equipment I mean stuff that flashes and beeps and does things that I can't comprehend. The students were dressed very nicely, which isn't necessarily a positive sign for me, but the faculty members I spoke to were very energetic, experienced, and more than happy to answer my questions.
If I had to compare my interview with a movie, I'd go with The Cutting Edge. I played the role of Doug Dorsey, the hockey player who carries an extra helmet to throw up in before the game because the first ten minutes of my interview I was so nervous and inarticulate that I felt like one of those zoo monkeys that hoots a lot but can't effectively communicate intelligent thought. Thankfully my interviewer was a very kind lady who didn't acknowledge my brief regression into the animal kingdom.
CUNY's program looks fresh (it's less than two years old), hungry, motivated and thorough. It also doesn't hurt that it's a fourth of the cost of any other program I've applied to.
I'll definitely be going back to check out a class or a talk and hopefully I'll remember not to hoot at anyone. Or throw up.
January 22, 2008
Is my stomach half full or half empty?
Did you know you can be full and hungry at the same time? I'm suffering from this condition at the moment, which is one of the reasons I'm writing this and not, say, sleeping.
The meal was great going in at least. I ate some gumbo, buttered crawfish tail bread, and onion rings at a tiny southern food restaurant in the East Village with my brother and an acquaintance who regaled us with tales of printing a thousand dollar ad in the newspaper of himself in tightie-whities humping his friend's face. Did I mention the crawfish bread was delicious?
Unfortunately, most of my meals aren't that interesting. I try to budget myself with $10 for general food/consumption needs every day. This usually translates into Campbell's soup, Chinese take out, Subway, or sometimes a panini.
The other night I was going to try a greek, meat-on-a-stick meal from the cart down the block from my apartment but when I walked by after work (around 3:30am) I changed my mind after the dude running the cart started peeing in the street. I try to avoid mixing urine with meat.
I realize I'm talking about stuff that's not even tangentially related to journalism but my stomach is demanding food and also demanding that I pass gas. It is not a comfortable combination and precludes thoughtful discussions.
I will be updating soon with something resembling a real post.
The meal was great going in at least. I ate some gumbo, buttered crawfish tail bread, and onion rings at a tiny southern food restaurant in the East Village with my brother and an acquaintance who regaled us with tales of printing a thousand dollar ad in the newspaper of himself in tightie-whities humping his friend's face. Did I mention the crawfish bread was delicious?
Unfortunately, most of my meals aren't that interesting. I try to budget myself with $10 for general food/consumption needs every day. This usually translates into Campbell's soup, Chinese take out, Subway, or sometimes a panini.
The other night I was going to try a greek, meat-on-a-stick meal from the cart down the block from my apartment but when I walked by after work (around 3:30am) I changed my mind after the dude running the cart started peeing in the street. I try to avoid mixing urine with meat.
I realize I'm talking about stuff that's not even tangentially related to journalism but my stomach is demanding food and also demanding that I pass gas. It is not a comfortable combination and precludes thoughtful discussions.
I will be updating soon with something resembling a real post.
December 26, 2007
Merry Christmas, Hope you didn't go to the zoo
Merry Christmas everyone! And Happy Holidays for the non-Christmas-celebrating folk!
I hope you didn't go to the zoo yesterday.
I hope you didn't go to the zoo yesterday.
December 19, 2007
One down, four to go
I started this blog to chronicle my path to a journalism career. Today (or yesterday, by now) may have marked a crucial date in that journey, or, it may prove to be completely insignificant; I'm not really sure yet. That's because today (or yesterday) I mailed in my first journalism application. The letters have been sent, the sites have been clicked and my credit card has been charged so it's done for good or ill.Overall I think my application is solid. My background is a bit of a smorgasboard and I'm not certain if that's to my detriment. Some programs seem to prefer "dedicated" students who have already cut their teeth in a journalism capacity while others apparently welcome students of all backgrounds. My education should help and my test scores were neither spectacular nor embarrassing. My statement of purpose didn't take shape until two days before my deadline (isn't that always the case?) but thanks to a mentor and an old college friend I sharpened it up considerably right up until a half hour before the deadline. The writing samples I submitted, three in total, are big question marks for me. Obviously, my portfolio (and I use quotation marks when I say that) is comprised almost entirely of opinion pieces; all I write about are my opinions on television shows, movies, sports, my life, etc. I could have dusted off some old college papers but when I read those I could actually hear all the words being stretched out to meet length requirements. I could have edited those bad boys for a slimmer fit, but even then they would still sound like academic papers. In the end I went with my opinions and we'll see how far they take me.
Now that my application is submitted I feel like I can catch my breath for the first time in weeks. I think I almost lost it once or twice during the last month. I've been trying to make headway on my internship, but it has oftentimes taken a backseat to my night job, my applications, and, certainly not least, my visiting parents. Plus I got sick so that sucked too.
The problem with the whole scenario is that writing application essays isn't like normal work. You can't say "I need four more hours on this and then I'll be done." You have to stick with that bastard until you get that burst of inspiration and smack the hell out of it until it says exactly what you want. I've never had an easy time writing about myself and as much as I like myself, it's super hard making yourself sound qualified and certain when you're anything but.
Poor me.
My parents flew home on Monday but I get to see them again for New Year's. We all have tickets to see UH at the Sugar Bowl (Go Warriors!) and my brother and I will fly down to New Orleans for a few days to soak in the sights, the game, and most likely some alcohol. Seriously though, I am such a lightweight that I may regret this trip. Okay, probably not.
Take everyone and I'll keep you all posted. Literally.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
