Losing It, MFA-style

One of my favourite vines, from when vine was a thing, was someone dressed as a pretty jank Ronald McDonald crashing a McDonald's and shouting, "let's mcfreakin' lose it! get outta your mind!" while a little kid goes "yay" in the background of a bunch of adults who are, understandably, not saying "yay"

First, the reason I love this vine so much is because of that little kid, who has a completely different perspective and understanding of the present circumstances than all of the adults. Second, I'm allowed to like this video. One of my first jobs was at a McDonald's and I was there for almost two years, and had to serve food to people I went to high school with, because I was still in high school. It was painful, and good for me.

anyway,

I'm mcfreakin' losing it a little. I'm not sure if I mcfreakin' lose it every year around this time. October and November are strange and liminal months for me. This year it feels especially intense, seeing as it's my last October/November in my undergrad, and MFA application season is upon us.

By the time I'm done spending a cool $500-700 on application fees and paying for my transcripts, I'll be all set to agonize for a few months until I hear back. But at least I'll be done the applications.

And now that I'm coming back to this draft, which I originally began on October 28th, I'm done my MFA applications. A week ago I sent them in. I wanted to apply to more than 5 schools, I really did, but the situation south of the border is grim, and I have Terry and two cats to consider if we end up needing to move.

I've been commiserating with a friend of mine who's also applying and it's helped me feel more sane, but all-in-all the vibe has been constant whiplash between feeling like there's no way in hell I get into any program, and then chastising myself for being so self-deprecating. It's really not about the statistics or my chances. Those wonderings are there, for sure, but they're not productive. There's a chance I'll get in. There's a chance I won't. This is just the next step on the way to where I want to be.

The biggest epiphany I had was that, looking back, when I left Banff to return to university, I thought I was taking a leap of faith. It felt like jumping into the deep-end, or the abyss, or clear air. I called it free-fall. What I've come to realise is that following my passion has been a far more reliable way forward than whatever it was I was doing before. Back then I was going through the motions. And I'm not judging past me, because that was all survival. But doing something I actually love, that's genuinely fulfilling and challenging and interesting, has changed everything. It doesn't fit the flight metaphor I've been playing with for the last four years, but I've never been so grounded.