2005-01-06
That would be nice...
I might just be able to sleep at night now. Two days ago, Rochester's Assistant Director of Admissions (whom I met a few months back in an interview) gave me a call to discuss my decision to apply E.D.
We had a charming conversation, and naturally, I commented on my...nervousness (after all, I need to be near the hottie Eastman School of Music boys!) and the following was said:
"I was quite impressed with you at our interview," says she.
"But I'm quite nervous about my application..." I respond.
"hmm...well, Libet, this is a bit off the record, but I wouldn't worry about that too much," she responds, assuringly.
And for the past several days, I've been replaying her response in my head...don't worry about it? Alright, that response hit me like a wet woopie-cushion right out of the refrigirator on a hot, summer's day, standing in the kitchen with the polka-dotted bikini I bought at Lotus. Relief.
There was a bit of a delay with my papers to apply early decision, which needed my counserlor's signature. I was told to get them signed the next day and fax them from the school directly to her. I will know my answer by next week.
If I get accepted...I will be able to sleep at night. I will finally feel like I am accomplishing something as opposed to perpetuating this cloud of bitterness that Roger left.
But I wonder...how can any university representative be impressed by me? I did not bullshit the interview--I honestly didn't. I was--as cliche as this sounds--myself. Yes, I brought any energy and passion that I may have left (though I had to search through myself to find its remnants). I smiled and...well, yes, I was myself.
I miss the days when I woke up in the morning and just worried about school. The days when I had no emotional attachments, save for school. When (this is almost painful to say) I was a nun...whose only love was school.
Before I found out that I was a certified babe and I only hid inside my books at the school library. Those days were filled with purpose...and conservative clothing.
Side note: Yes, I was a prude. A major prude. Although I'm still a bit prudish because I still hate to look at dirty pictures (which unsettle me).
Then again...now that I look back on the past year and a half, I don't think I would trade neither Vin nor Alastair (though Vin doesn't care much for Al--she always has bff benefits over the bf because I love her) for those days to come back to me in a silver platter.
I feel like a child--I always have. And it's normal, when you have people who care for you that much.
She listens to me.
He has patience when I cry.
She puts up with my being a nuisance at times.
He refuses to leave my side, even when I yell in Spanish like a madwoman.
But in short, I love them both equally, and I'll be able to sleep at night now. I don't think I'll cry anymore. That would be nice.