So, I submitted my grad school essays tonight. I finished most of the material and editing two days ago, but have been waiting to submit them until I have peace of mind about it.
I began thinking about grad school my freshman year of college. I remember getting on Harvard Divinity School’s website when I was living in the corner room of Rice Hall. I never imagined that I would be applying 3 years later. It was just a distant thought at that point. Years, essays, exams, a hiatus in Oxford, and a paradigm shift later, I’m laying in bed having just submitted applications to Yale, Oxford, Duke, and Vanderbilt. I have no clue what will happen but I am trusting God to lead me where He wants me. I will go where I am supposed to be and where I will do the most good for the world.
I have been dealing with the application process for about 8 months. I began studying for the GRE in May and was stalking websites and visiting the schools throughout the summer. Shockingly, after I submitted my applications didn’t feel immediate relief or excitement, I felt nauseous. Yes, nauseous. Like everything became uncertain and I no longer had control over anything. Releasing those applications to the schools was like giving part of myself to them. I had poured hours into writing, probably days into thinking, and years hoping and planning for this time of my life. It is now in the hands of the admissions committees to decide if I should get in. And if they should give me money. Let’s hope both of those answers are a loud, resounding “Yes!” =)
Que sera, sera. I trust the Lord to guide my path and He will place me where I ought to be.
“Become a possibilitarian. No matter how dark things seem to be or actually are, raise your sights and see possibilities — always see them, for they’re always there.”—Norman Vincent Peale (via julie911)
“You are not your bra-size, nor are you the width of your waist, nor are you the slenderness of your calves. You are not your hair color, your skin color, nor are you a shade of lipstick. Your shoe-size is of no consequence. You are not defined by the amount of attention you get from males, females, or any combination thereof. You are not the number of sit-ups you can do, nor are you the number of calories in a day. You are not your mustache. You are not the hair on your legs. You are not a little red dress.
You are no amalgam of these things.
You are the content of your character. You are the ambitions that drive you. You are the goals that you set. You are the things that you laugh at and the words that you say. You are the thoughts you think and the things you wonder. You are beautiful and desirable not for the clique you attend, but for the spark of life within you that compels you to make your life a full and meaningful one. You are beautiful not for the shape of the vessel, but for the volume of the soul it carries.”—(via nancylicious)
I have considered writing the things I loved about him. All of the great feelings, thoughts, experiences I had with him. I did not want to do this to remember him, but to record him. Someday my heart will be entirely detached and it will be valuable to know what I appreciated about him. Right now I appreciate the positives, but could not possibly create a list of good times without writing a complimentary list of negatives. And ultimately, a list of negatives will only make me mad, which will show that I care, which will get me upset that I care, which will make me care even more. So instead of creating a list or recording the past, I will not think of our relationship in positives and negatives. I will remember everything that helps me grow and forget everything that makes me hurt. I have hurt enough for a lifetime, and never want that feeling in the pit of my stomach to come back haunting me, making me feel like it is about to burst from my throat. Joy and freedom are what I choose. Joy from the reconciliation of the parts of my heart that ached when I was with him. Freedom from the seemingly obligatory commitment to revolve my life around someone else’s plans.
I may have loved him, but there is no reason to dwell on it. So here we go. Embracing the present, growing from the past.
Everyone says this is unbiblical. That we’re meant to be together.
Yes, we are. I’m not being heretical (now). But what does it meant to be together?
I love my community, my friends, my family (usually one in the same). They keep me sane, they keep me crazy, they keep me rational, they keep me imaginative. I am impacted by them every day. I use them to process my world and get joy out of assisting them in processing their worlds. The extroversion of my nature is reliant on those that I love.
So if it is 8 at night and I am by myself, am I supposed to be unhappy? Is there something wrong with me if I’m not? If I sit in my room, reading Henry Miller or Charles Bukowski or Judy Bloom or Erwin McManus or whomever I feel like reading. Or watching Gilmore or Modern Family or Friends or Community or Glee or whatever I feel like watching. If I am entirely content reading and writing and thinking on my own, what does that say about me?
Perhaps I am a narcissist. Or a skeptic. Or a cynic. Or a masochist.
Well, even if I am any of those, I am also content and joyful and peaceful and serene and life itself is lovely.
“You need to learn how to select your thoughts just the same way you select your clothes every day. This is a power you can cultivate. If you want to control things in your life so bad, work on the mind. That’s the only thing you should be trying to control.”—Eat, Pray, Love (via pickmeadaisy)
“Jumpstart my kaleidoscope heart
Love to watch the colors fade
They may not make sense but they sure as hell made me
I won’t go as a passenger, no
Waiting for the roads to be late
Though I may be going down
I’ll take in flame over burning out
Compare where you are to where you wanna be
And you’ll get nowhere”—Sara Bareilles—Uncharted