Even as the tofu sizzles in my brand new skillet, the grad school slamdance has begun. That's right -once again, the shit is on. Washington, California, Montana, Iowa, Texas, Florida, & Oregon - These are the places we could end up living if I actually get into an MFA program. The odds of such an occurrence are difficult to calculate, but suffice it to say that they’re pretty long. After all, America is brimming with literary & poetic talent. One thing i know is that writers and poets are the best at sniffing out a free lunch, and so there’s all these fevered writers and poets vying for just a few chairs on easy street. It’d be easy for a man to get lost in that kind of talent-shuffle. Sometimes, when I think about it, I figure it’s probably pointless to even try. Why bother, you know? Boom – but what if I get accepted?! It’d sure be an adventure, for me and my family. I’d actually get time to write. There’s nothing wrong with any of those states either. It’d be nice to see what they offer in the way of psychotherapy jobs. Anyway, we’re ready for a little excitement, The Missus and me. A little fresh air, some new terrain. All my applications are due by the middle of January. I’m working on those long-winded mothers as we speak. And next week I take the computerized GRE for the second time in my adult life. I drive in to Atlanta at 8 a.m. for that one, too. Blargh. Unh. That it’s costing me $140 of my hard-unearned unemployment check doesn’t help much, either. But whatevsky- u can’t win if u don’t play, right?
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