I had an emotional breakdown today. I was looking at all these horror stories about graduate applications, you know all the stuff that has caused people not to be accepted into graduate programs. Granted, many of these stories came from people applying to really selective schools, but it is a tremendous fear that lurks in the back of any applicants mind. There are stories of admission committees arbitrarily accepting or rejecting people because of the applicants research interests, not that they wouldn't fit with the university, but because the professor wanted someone with interests like theirs getting into the program instead. Or the one that scares me even more than that involves quibbling over three freaking pecentage points on one of the components of the GRE - say 87 compared to 90 and how it would be tragic to accept the person who outperformed 87 percent in lieu of accepting the other.
I just fell apart, curled into the fetal postion and left the world of the sane for a lttle while. After regaining my cognitive faculties, I decided that I would not focus on that stuff for a while, deciding rather to check up on my friends around America via xanga, or facebook, or yes, even blospot. After that rousing game I went to my grandmother and told her my dilemma:
Me: I had a breakdown.
Gma: Did you break something?
Me: No, I had a breakdwon!
Gma: What did you break?
Me: My brain.
Gma: That's the most important part.
Me: No, I mean I had a mental breakdown.
Gma: Did you throw a temper tantrum?
Me: No, but I'm about to. I'm really nervous about school
My grandmother - geeze. I think that maybe she's crazy. Not really, but sorta.