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Try harder

I have made a decision about graduate school. Apparently, my whole grad school affair is filled with \”should haves\”. I should have applied to more colleges. I should have written something fresh and sparkling for my manuscripts rather than using things I wrote before because I am lazy and watched Bring It On for the forty-second time instead of writing something new. I should have tried harder. I should have included nude photos of myself. Should should should should should. At this point, I await notice from only the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee, a program I actually used to attend. I’m not fond of that program, although it is a very nice program in general, but I didn’t have warm fuzzies about it.

Thus, I have decided to put everything off a year. This allows me to apply to the University of Wisconsin in Madison, which accepts fiction students only even numbered years, as well as retry to the programs I already have as well as venture into some other less-prestigious programs and possibly ones further away from Wisconsin. I may take a workshop at UWM this fall.

All in all, it’s very good for me to have been rejected. It’s going to make me try harder. I tend to be a very passive aggressive person and in general, things come very easy for me. Whenever I put my mind to something, I make it work and am very good at it, which sounds like I’m bragging, but I’m not. It’s something I’m actually ashamed of because it gives me no excuses. I’m lazy. I’m lazy as all get out and tend to take the path of least resistance. So this is a wake up call for me to get off my hubris and try harder.

And this is the part where I advertise my motivational seminars and inspirational poster line, available for sale in the lobby.

But I did decide that a reasonable substitute for fulfilling my life dream would be a nice shiny Lincoln LS. With a sun roof. And a kick ass stereo. Maybe silver. Yes. A Lincoln LS. In silver. Or maybe jet black.

There’s no ennui in the world that can’t be cleared up with something shiny. That’s all I’m saying. Shiny. Pretty. Gimme. I think I was a a raccoon in another life.

That and if watching Bring It On forty times is wrong, I don’t want to be right.