I’ve been a lil silent here lately. It’s mainly been because I was locked in crippling fear about my future.  Now that I know to some small degree what the next few months hold for me, I’m paralyzed in fear.  At least when I was crippled I could wiggle around a little bit.

Okay, I’ll stop being vague now.  I was accepted into the Dramatic Writing Program at NYU‘s Tisch School of the Arts … in Singapore.  The idea of me relocating to Singapore was not some grand pre-existing life path I’d put my self on. It actually thinly presented itself to me as a simple check off box in my NYU Tisch New York application.

“Would you like to be considered for Tisch Asia?”

“Sure!”

I thought.

“Why the fuck not? Since I’m applying to grad school why not just balls it all the way out!”

I check the box, complete the application and submit all the required hutzpa by 11:59 pm 12/1/11. Then I proceed through four months of self induced torture, applying to grad school after grad school only to have my spirit swallowed whole and shat out by the  Ivy’s, The “First Choice” school, and even my shit kicking “safe school” (those bastards rejected me FIRST – there will be blood.)

The only institution left was NYU, and it wasn’t looking too promising.  I’d sent the app four months before and heard not word the first. Then …

“Dear Graduate Dramatic Writing applicant,

Greetings.  Your application has been selected as part of a small group of semi-finalists under consideration for the M.F.A Graduate Dramatic Writing program at NYU Tisch School of the Arts Asia in Singapore.  We would like to request an interview with you regarding your admission to our program.”

My sphincters tightened. My mind raced. I hadn’t even sent my materials to Singapore as the application had called for. I was confused. It was an interview though, and after having endured a grad app process reminiscent of 300, some redemption was in order.  On March 9th 2012, I interviewed  and it was fantastic.  They liked me.  They really liked me. More important, I liked them.  It seemed as if the program was made for me and had been placed in front of me randomly because, quite frankly, I’m a coward. The idea of attending school abroad is slightly horrifying.

I then began to consider Singapore, for real this time.  I did a little internet digging and discovered the beauty of the country and how doable the transition from here to there would be. Still, after the slaughter I’d been through, I didn’t allow myself to explore much further.  I went back to life as usual.

Then I began to notice the calendar.  Days eeked by. Hours. Minutes.  I scoured the grad forums for answers.  The ones I received only made me desperate for more.  I swore the forums off, then went back five minutes later.  We were tortured souls yearning, burning, dying to be liberated from purgatory! Then it hit me.  I could call!  So, I called NYU New York and got the most loving caring rejection I’d received all season. I was reminded to keep Tisch Asia in mind and that their decisions were just around the corner.

Gently let down, and still quite defeated, I attempted to go on.  I threw myself into work, and in the back of my mind lingered thoughts of Tisch Asia.  I’d almost resolved that I wasn’t going to get in this round until …

“Dear Stacey,
 
Congratulations! You have been admitted to the Tisch School of the Arts.”

I came completely unglued, interrupting every business deal and break up chat at the Starbucks I was in.  Baristas came to check on my psychological well being.  It was fandamtastic.

Since then, the black fog of fear has settled in for what I hope is a brief stay.  Among the shit storm stirring in the fog are the thoughts:

“Yeah, you’re scholarshipped, but it doesn’t nearly cover everything.”

“Bitch, it’s Asia.”

“What are you gonna do with that boy?”

“BITCH, it’s Asia.”

“Will you have to work?! Shit, you can work and go to school in Charlotte!”

“BITCH IT’S ASIA!”

All of this while trying to live a semi-normal life over the past three days.  The good news is I know I’ll survive. The not so good is that I’ll have to re-live my middle school/high school emotions during the process. There is a hell of a lot of grown up work for me to do and it’ll suck having to do it while still feeling like a chubby wheezy nerd that Jake Ryan will NEVER ask to the prom.

Yes, a new chapter in the life of this completely sane lunatic has begun. Pull up a chair, grab some concessions, and join me.  This shit outta be good.

Rosie.

*Update:  I’ve set up a fund to help pay for my trip over!

“Throw Stacey On The Plane!”  make it rain please.

gracious thank yous!

Oddly this was one of my favorite commercials when I was a tyke.