What you ask for...

It's been longer than usual, as I've bounced consistently between laziness, business, and general overwhelmedness (think King James pronunciation). I'm graduating in a couple months; I’m moving out of my parent’s house (completely) in a few more, and I'm making one of the most important decisions ever. I think it's hilarious that the last post revolved around feelings of inadequacy and fears of possible failure, when I now have a tremendous choice on my hands. I was given advice and encouragement which I, at the time, saw as overly confident in abilities I knew I did not posses. Tremendously grateful, I still remained a cynic. I felt out of my league, out of my depth, and out of my mind for even attempting something as presumptuous as applying for graduate study...

In the first couple months after that post my fears were validated. Rejections did abound, and there came, despite the pain, a twinge of underlying vindication. It seemed as though I was right after all. My pride began to glaze over, and I went on as if none of it was happening. But then there was February 25th...

After that day, three acceptances came in rapid succession, and now I'm standing here, yet undecided...

* * *

I can't shake the burden of incompetence that has consistently afflicted every area of my life. People try to encourage me, and I am heartened by, what I perceive to be, genuine praise. Still, the load does not let up. I see that they both mean and believe what they say; I just can't seem to receive it. I've been able to cope with this over the years. Blending into the crowd has provided a bubble of anonymity that has served to hide my glaring insufficiencies. But now I'm entering an arena of singular accomplishments, and that bubble is in the process of rabidly bursting. My cover is failing.

At this point, I've narrowed the decision down to two. Why can't they see me? A bubble isn't by any means the most effective method of concealment. It's transparent; it’s insubstantial; it’s tenuous. And still they perceive something; something that, at this point, is neither the bubble, nor the man that stands behind it, because neither is worth the effort they're putting forth. I wish to God I knew what it was....

On a wing and a prayer...

So, I just sent off my last application to grad school, and I'm completely terrified at the idea of possible failure. I guess I've always taken for granted the reassurance provided by an underlying faith in my abilities. I was calm because I didn't see failure as an actual possibility. But now, I'm on the wrong side of mediocrity, and I can't figure out how to cope with the fact that I'm just like everyone else.

PhD programs are no joke. That's a given. Still, I'm wondering whether I've started bugging out unnecessarily. I've always made things out to be harder than what they actually are. It's been my way of achieving what I have over the years. I get myself worked up over the (internally fictitious) prospect of failure and then over-perform. I know afterward that the idea of failure was never real; it was something that I fabricated in order to push myself over the edge of complacency and into the waters of productivity. Now though, I'm in those waters and am, for the first time, floundering.

I've always been a good swimmer. Backstrokes, breaststrokes, doggy paddles and treading were always easy for me, and I dominated the kid and teen swim with natural alacrity. I didn't need any flotation aids and could survive in the deep end, but it’s adult swim now, and the facility that separated me from my previous company is shared by all. Many have practiced their swimming technique so much that I seem to be the opposite of what I once was. I'm nowhere near as comfortable on the deep end as they are, and I've begun to realize my relative limits.

I'm applying to 11 schools with 11 different pools of applicants and I'm worried. The pools there are all adult swims, requiring everything I have and some things that I've yet to develop. No more swimming circles around other kids in the pool, no more treading lazily in the middle, and no more doing elementary tricks. Everyone else will have passed this stage and already developed unique techniques.

I wish so much sometimes that I'd used the time I had to hone my craft instead of remaining complacent in my abilities. Now I have to hope and pray that I, by some grace of God, am accepted into the fold, that I'm skilled enough for the adult world, that I perform well enough in the deep end to warrant inclusion into the "big boy" crowd. Oh God. I long for the days when I was confident. I wish for some sense of security. There are approximately 3 months until I know for sure if I'm good enough. I'm anxious and deathly afraid.

I applied to eleven schools and I don't feel especially confident about any one of them....Failure scares the crap out of me, but mediocrity enrages me, especially when its my own...

Busy...

It's been a while... The time flies by so quickly; hours, days, weeks, months enter and exit at the blink of an eye, and I am still standing in the same place, grabbing at air as I just miss every thing I attempt to reach for. I wish that life would slow down enough for me to at least see what's going on. It's like sitting in a car on the highway and watching the railings go by in one extended blur. Each individual spoke is discernible up until a certain point. Your eye can compensate for the speed until the pace of your surroundings begins to eclipse your physical ability to follow. They become an indefinite mass of things you once knew to be, individually, familiar.
* * *
This semester sucks...hard. I can't focus on anything completely, my prospective future looks, at best, bleak and I'm an adult in a world that only seems to care about those on either extremes of life. The young are to be protected and the old are to be pitied but those in between…well… I'm "studying" for the GRE's, taking classes, working two jobs, constructing a senior thesis, beginning my "statement of purpose", looking for letters of recommendation, researching grad schools and having a life. Is this some "rite of passage"? Am I really going to have to deal with this sort of ridiculousness for the rest of my life? If not, will there be new types of ridiculousness? If so, will I be able to justify the extent of these trials in the title that will eventually appear before my name? Are the (highly) possible 10+ years of a brutal, hyper-Darwinian, subsistence living, "apprenticeship" even worth it?
* * *
I wish I didn't have to ask myself questions to which I already know the answers, but it seems to be the only way I can be sure that I’m not crazy. I know that life isn't fair. Things that require the most work often receive the least (perceivable) payment. Still, seeing the punch coming doesn't make it hurt any less. If anything, it only serves to frustrate, because just as sure as I know it's coming, I also know that I can't move out of its way. In this decision to grow and learn, I’ve chosen my fate: to be a proverbial punching bag until I’ve grown strong enough to wield gloves of my own. This I understand. I'm just frustrated at those individuals and systems that constantly deal thinly veiled "low blows"/ unnecessary hits/ obstacles that only serve to further assuage their fear of internal inadequacy. My cross is heavy enough to bear without the guilt, anger and pain of theirs.
* * *
If the spokes are going to remain indistinguishable, if this is, like a rite of passage, unavoidable, if I must continue to take the punches, if this cup will not pass from me and I must bear this cross, if I am forced to be the scapegoat for other's insecurities, I will, through clenched teeth, frustrated gesticulations and ironic smiles, endure it all, because, in the end, I will be the better for it. I just pray that I have the strength to forgive after it's all said and done.