Or perhaps lack of update would be better.
People (not me) went to UNH's admitted student day. They've reported back. Said only glowing wonderful things. Got back frank but praiseworthy emails from the advisor-type-woman whom UNH told me to contact.
Was supposed to call WMU today but by the time I got around to it, it was already after normal business hours so I wasn't too surprised when it went to voicemail. Gotta look into that because the Poets&Writer's Speak Easy (yes I've caved and started reading there) says that they're telling waitlisted people what their number on the waitlist is.
Not that knowing a mere number really does much either way for me. Knowing the number doesn't mean that I'll get and acceptance even if I'm #1 nor does it mean that as #10 I will not for certain get an offer. The fact of the matter is that until I get a definite 'yes' or 'no' there can be no plan making. I can't sculpt my life around a maybe. But I can let them know that I remain interested.
I'm starting to remind myself of those women who sit around waiting, waiting, waiting on their boyfriends to get a clue and give 'em a ring.
I hate those women.
But at least with this I know that in a couple of months I will have an answer. I'll have a bride-groom one way or the other.
New Hampshire sounds amazing as a physical location. Mountains, forests, snow, ocean. Quaint college town where the students think they run things and cross the street wherever they want because the pedestrian is invincible. But it's so damn far away. And the farther away you go the greater your start up cost is. There won't be any running back home because I forgot something.
Not that I'm the kind of person who has always lived close by my parents and used them as a convenience store. I've lived 5-6 hours from home during school so I know that if I forgot something I needed to find it on my own. But it's a big move. Not distance-wise but stuff-wise. Dad seems to think that he has some ideas on how to make it happen physically. I'll let him worry about that for now.
For the moment, I find I have enough pointless worry.
I can't do much to influence the school situation right now. I haven't written anything (fiction) in a little less than a week. And I'm freaking out a little too much to generate any sort of well formed ideas. Then again the mindlessness of my new job helps to numb my brain and make it suitable only for reality TV viewing. Just last night did I realize that the guy I'd been watching skanks, dancers, and rock chick groupies slobber after and fight over was once the lead singer of Poison. I just liked the outrageous train wreck of it all. It's disgusting. All of it. And yet, I watch, because I'm in a bout of writing-insomnia.
It's not writer's block. Mostly it's not because I don't believe in writer's block. I think it's all in your head. And I'm coming up with ideas and notions for stories, letting the facts and pieces bubble up to me and saving them for when I have a clearer picture to write. But still there's nothing to show for that thinking process save post-its and napkins that I've scribbled notes on. And I want something I can skin my teeth into and feel good about.
Maybe the April version of NaNoWriMo (called April Fools) will be helpful. Although I doubt it will over much, as I'm having trouble dealing with the intensity of the genre overload that goes on at that site.
