Top Choices at the moment:

• UNC Greensboro (duh)
• NC State University (Raleigh)
• University of Texas at Austin, Michener Center (dream BIG!)
• University of Minnesota, Minneapolis
• University of Alabama, Tuscaloosa
• University of Arkansas, Fayetteville
• University of Arizona, Tucson

Potential reruns:

• University of Indiana, Bloomington
• University of Montana, Missoula

Other runners-up

• Colorado State University
• Vanderbilt University (Nashville)
• University of Wisconsin, Madison
• Arizona State University

DISCUSS!

First off, I have new real estate on the internet, and I will blogging primarily here now: http://emilyabenton.com

Yes, that’s my real name, and I’m sorry for keeping it hidden for the most part here. And I know it’s a real pain in the rear to edit your Blogroll or RSS feeds once more, but please, if you will, add that address to it. I’ve already added most of your links there. However, you don’t have to erase Reality Writes, as I may be back here from time to time (especially next fall…see below). But the other blog will now be my main locale. It’s slightly different, although a more cohesive version of my self(selves), I think.

I’ve spent the majority of Reality Writes talking about my MFA application experience, and I’m thankful to have had that outlet. Some of you may be relieved to find that my new blog will not include any of that. But for those who have been following, here’s my other major announcement:

I’m not going to school this fall.

I heard from the director at UNCG on Monday and he said they won’t have any openings for me to move up from the waiting list. They will, however, help me defer my application to next year so I can avoid resending paperwork and fees and already be, theoretically, at the top of the stack. The director also kindly offered to help me pick a list of other schools to apply to that will better match my portfolio and are more likely to give me funding.

I know some of you are scratching your heads as to why I have not taken one of my other acceptances, because they certainly were good ones - great ones, even. But I learned through gut instinct and long, hard (ow! It hurts!) thinking that they were not the right places for me. Some of the factors leading up to that decision include the lack of funding and an overall feeling that I would be too distracted or too isolated in the communities hosting these programs. On the other hand, when I visited UNCG, I felt overwhelmingly comfortable around the people I met there (for reasons of similarity and also diversity), with the low-pressure lifestyle of Greensboro, and also with what the funding situation would have been for me had I gotten off the waitlist. Had I not visited Greensboro, I could have very well ended up taking another offer and probably done OK in a program, although I think it would have been really hard for me to get by financially - or at least without a heavy burden and lots of stress - and I also don’t think I would have fully “fit in” with those programs. That isn’t to diss anyone at these schools - they certainly were welcoming and I’m grateful to everyone who gave me a glimpse into their MFA experience. It was only by comparison of those programs with UNCG’s that I gained a lot of perspective about what my needs were for an MFA - some things I couldn’t have known from merely filling out applications and researching websites, although I do think I put more time into that than most people.

I’ve run into many friends lately - the ones who’ve heard me decline offers to hang out because I was working on applications, or have heard my voice shakey with the excitement of the possibly studying with X writer at X school - and when I tell them my news, they tilt their heads and ask, “Are you OK?”

It’s a perfectly valid question to ask considering how passionate I’ve been about every step of this process, and how much I felt was at stake when I put those fat envelopes in the mail. But my answer is Yes, I’m OK. I don’t feel defeated. Maybe I would feel that way had I not been accepted anywhere. But considering the places that did accept me, I feel a little empowered. I know now that I am good enough to do this. I know that I can be competitive with my art, even though I’m young and not as experienced as many other writers out there. I know I have more choice in the process.

And although I’m not going to school this year, I’m left in a good place. I don’t hate my job; it gives me enough cushion to get by and not have a miserable life full of worry. (In other words, it’s not like I’m being kicked out of a dorm room without a clue what to do. I’ve been on my own for a few years now, and I’ve got this independence thing down.) I’ve also in the past month or so met some writers who are giving me the feedback and exchange I’ve needed. I can now workshop with them and warm up those muscles that were getting pretty tense and out of shape a year ago. I also lost my professional freelance blog, which at first was a slap in the face because I wasn’t expecting it to end so early, but I now see it as a “blessing in disguise,” to quote my mother. It’s the kick in the head I needed, and it’s freed up a lot of time in my schedule to work on poetry or other forms of writing. I’m going to focus now on spreading my byline wider, while also pushing myself to write poems I was saving for the MFA experience. (I know, that was a completely stupid way to approach my writing. But I was letting fear, recognition, and other commitments get the best of me.)

So, at this point, I will be applying for MFA programs again in the fall, but I’m going to take my time getting back to the paperwork. I spent way too much of last year obsessing over the details before the clock was even ticking to turn stuff in. Not to mention, I already have half of the work done, right? I may re-apply to a few schools, but there will be a lot of new players in this year. I’m certainly not going to settle for just applying to UNCG. I’m going to throw my net wider, but I also may not apply to as many places. I won’t have fallback schools. This round will be more of a poker game, rather than throwing paper at the wind.

So yeah, I’ll be coming back here to write about the whole MFA process again, because - and this is really important - I can’t talk about it on my other website. That means you can’t talk about it there either, and I’ll delete any comments that bring it up. The reason is that my boss and other coworkers may read that blog since it’s easier to find (by name) and I’m promoting it more, and I don’t want them to get the idea that I’m on my way out and fire me for it. And as far as I know, I could end up not going to school next year either, or dropping the whole plan to live a “normal” life without a graduate degree. So I don’t want to raise any red flags. Capiche?

But thank you for reading this incredibly self-indulgent blog post - and all of Reality Writes - and for reading my new website if you so choose to subject yourself to more me. I could try to leggo my ego and chill for a bit, but that wouldn’t be Reality, would it?

still no answers on the UNCG front. I did officially turn down VCU, though. And I’m assuming SLC knows I’m not going there since I didn’t send them a check by their deadline.

It’s weird to feel that after this whole process, even after getting some good acceptances, I may end up exactly where I started, just a few hundred dollars poorer. I guess a few hundred is better than a few thousand, though.

I packed an elaborate lunch for myself today that consists of venison taco meat, chopped romaine and red onion, light Daisy (sing the song) sour creme, and shredded cheddar cheese - all individually tupperwared. Yet I got in my head yesterday afternoon that it’s been almost two weeks since I had my last Showmars Greek salad, and once you get the idea of Greek food in your head, it’s impossible to remove it until you have it in your mouth. So against my better judgment, I might just save the taco salad for dinner and get out of the office for the Greek takeout. Because life is about making spontaneous Greek food decisions sometimes.

I sat on the couch and said

I normally consider myself to be emotionally stable

You said you believed the same

but my face kept drooping into the pile of tissues

and the pillow, I laid it in your lap

Was I trying to make you my mother?

Three times this week into the phone

I said I was OK

You called and asked Should I come over?

Was that a trick? You said no. But you were ready

to leave after I shushed you

The meds have my hands shaking, my head

Loopy after daylight awake for hours

The bottle said take half a pill nightly

I took a whole one the second time

and could barely hold the broom

The hailstorm had me staring out the screen

The cat ran wildly for ten minutes

from the window to the box to the room

My doctor did not tell me that the pills

prevented seizures. She said I am like the other girls

with high anxiety and then unbuttoned my shirt

The pins and needles in my fingers are real.

The fizzy noises from my coca-cola

are real. The ceiling moving, real?

You did not say you were going to leave tonight.

She did not say these pills would make me quiet.

…or at least that’s what I’ve kept saying to Scott the past couple of days while I’ve coughed up my lungs and removed slugs from my sinus cavaties.

and then I heard from my new editor at the newspaper the other day that they want to kill my freelance blog this week or next because of budgeting cuts. this is disheartening because I really needed the extra $200 a month before the move, and I oh so wanted to depart with a dramatic puff of smoke stating that I was leaving town to pursue a graduate degree worth nothing. but I can’t spill the beans just yet since my employer reads that blog and they may decide they want to cut me early, too!

I’m working on a Plan B to be disclosed at a later time.

also this week, I’m in MFA pergatory still as UNCG and I await a student to leave their acceptance list. I also am still waiting for potential funding at VCU. Both schools say they should know by early next week. But… today is the deadline for me to accept at Sarah Lawrence! I woke up at 4 a.m. going back and forth in my head on whether or not it’s worth giving them a $150 deposit just to stay in the game. I can’t decide if I don’t get into UNCG if I’d still consider SLC as a fall back. That’s a lot of debt to swallow. And although I had fun in New York, it wasn’t telling me I should move there immediately. And I still get that icky feeling when I think of VCU. You just have no idea what type of weekend I had up there. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone.

And as if I needed any more proof that this whole process has been super stressful, my doctor told me yesterday that she thinks some neurological/cardiovascular symptoms I’ve been having could be caused by anxiety and therefore she prescribed me a pill to help calm my nerves. I’m still a little skeptical but I’ll proceed with the trial period before ruling it out.

I wonder if any other applicants have gone through a similar diagnosis?

sorry I’ve been M.I.A.

I’m sick. Nasty cold aggrivated by allergies. I got it before getting on the airplane Saturday morning. As in, I got it the night before, then overslept, and had to run to the gate at 5:45 a.m. and try not to get even sicker as we rode through turbulance and some kid puked in the aisle in front of me. Lovely.

Sarah Lawrence was cool but the amount of money I spent in just my 3 days in New York was a real eye opener to the reality I would be facing if I went to school up there, even if I lived near campus and got some meaningless job to support myself.

I took yesterday off of work to try to recover a little bit, and then grabbed Scott and jumped in my car and drove up to UNC Greensboro to meet the director and students up there. I’m on the waiting list - waiting for one person to drop their offer and I can get in. If I get in, I’m pretty much guaranteed some sort of Graduate Assistantship my first year, and then I can try to get on the staff of the Greensboro Review my second year. I’d probably still have to pay in-state tuition but my oh my is that cheap.

After meeting with the director and students, I got this swelling good feeling inside that I would totally fit in there and also be working with some of the smartest writers. Everyone has a different background - rocket scientist (aerospace engineer), playwrights, journalists (like me!), musicians - hardly any of their students come from an English degree. Greensboro is a bore but Scott and I both kind of sighed of relief at the idea of slowing down for a bit, spending only about $700 for a 3-bedroom house, and also being only an hour or so from the music scene in Chapel Hill.

So cross your fingers for me that I get into UNCG. It’s my top choice now and I can’t even consider the others anymore. As in, I may defer if I don’t get into UNCG this year.

More thoughts to come and I have a bunch of pictures from NY to post, too.

xo

the director at UNC Greensboro just told me that I’m at the top of their list, if I’m interested.

Before scene opens, our two main characters, Emily and Scott, have just left a “party” where red wine was consumed with giggly MFA girls, and have been driving about 15 minutes down one long stretch of highway to reach their hotel that is on the outskirts of town. They’ve passed about 10 gas stations at this point, all of which were closed. It is about 12:30 a.m. on a Saturday.

Emily: “Look! That one’s open!”

Scott: “What? Where! Oh yeah - awesome!”

Emily turns wheel into parking lot, where two cop cars are surrounding another vehicle. They park, walk past a small diner full of teenagers, and enter the convenient store. They walk toward the neon sign reading “BEER” in the back of the store.

Emily: “What? Where’s all the cold ones?”

Scott: “It looks like they’re locked away.” - motions to closed “beer room,” and then starts pacing the aisles.

Emily: (looks through locked glass doors to beer room, everything is dark)

“I don’t understand.”

She follows Scott to the juice aisle, and then turns around and crosses paths with pixie-looking girl and lip ring boy with long hair

Emily: “Excuse me, we’re from out of town. Can you help me?”

*blank faces*

Emily: “Is there some sort of law here about buying beer at night?”

Pixie Girl: “Yeah, you can’t buy beer after midnight.”

Scott: “WHAT??”

*nervous laughter by all*

Lip ring boy: “Yeah, it looks like you’re out of luck. The bars are open until 2 a.m., though.”

Emily: “Oh, yeah..hmm…well we just wanted to go to bed with a Tall Boy.”

*awkward silence*

Scott: “OK thanks…”

*Exit Scene*

unless you count all the emails back and forth, back and forth between people I will be visiting in the coming weeks. oh and I wrote a silly thing for the magazine at work about what albums I’ve been listening to. by the way, get the new R.E.M. album (out as of last Tuesday). and Jamie Lidell (out April 29). everything else I think is already noted on my sidebar.

Last week though I did have a great time meeting with my neighbor Coleen to go over poems and her short story. this was our first time hanging out without other neighbors around. we decided on the neutral place of Common Market. before we had been thinking of coffee or just sitting on one of our couches, but we were like, wait a minute. there are places with beer. places where the beer is endless - rows upon rows of imported beer in a refrigerated section. and this is where you should go on first dates. or first dates with writers. or women. and so we sat out on the patio at CM and commenced with the beer, cigarettes, and writing talk. guys, I must tell you - I am such a lightweight when it comes to beer. liquor and wine are better friends to me. they are like old cousins. but I tell you that the excitement of workshopping for the first time in four years brought out the Irish in me and I drank five beers on an empty stomach. and close to 2 packs of cigarettes. we were ON FIRE. and people kept calling us or sitting with us and we kept blowing them off and then Scott showed up with his friends and ordered a pitcher. one look at me and he started laughing, and had to point out to everyone what a rarity it was to find his girlfriend drunk on a Wednesday, much less out in public. it was 11:30 p.m. by this point. usually when I am whining to brush our teeth. that’s when I realized that I had not eaten since noon. Coleen hadn’t either. so she called the Penguin on speed dial and we ordered grease takeout. then brought it back to the market and chowed down before trolloping home. I am writing about this a week later because that’s how much fun I had. on a Wednesday.

and then last night I also went out with people for Linnea’s birthday. I ate a veggie plate and had a Baker & Ginger and smoked 3 cigarettes and went to bed at midnight.  Wednesday is becoming my new Thursday, and Thursday is becoming my new Friday. except for that whole getting up early the next day.

so I guess this is to say that I have been socializing. more is better.

and my free cable TV went out last month and it’s become one of the best things. I do not pay for cable, just network TV. but I had become hooked on the free cable that showed up when I rearranged my furniture 6 months ago. I watched Bravo almost every day, folks. and Food Network. it became a ritual to me, for no good reason. Sure I love Top Chef and I hate that I’m missing this new season but really this is all preparing me for grad school and perhaps a lifetime of better media consumption so I am thankful. I’m still on with network TV, though. the only thing I care to watch on network TV is Jeopardy!, Saturday morning PBS cooking shows, and Wednesday night Top Model, the latter which I’ve missed the past two weeks so I guess it doesn’t matter that much.

oh, and I started painting again. for the first time in four years. this is my new painting (in progress):

If I had a corner office and more time on my hands at work to mess around on the computer, I’d Photoshop a picture of my head onto the side of a small airplane to illustrate that I’m leaving one place to visit another like they do with the contestants on America’s Next Top Model. OH THAT’S HOW THEY GET FROM POINT A TO POINT B? AHA! I know, this blog really needs some more visual explanation.

I booked my flights for New York City for April 12-April 14. I’ve been playing phone tag with the Sarah Lawrence graduate office so that we can set up an appointment for my campus tour. I’m sure the staff up there is standing around their answering machine right now over coffee and bagels, chuckling over my messages on speaker phone. My Southern accent always kicks into high gear whenever I’m nervous, sweet-talkin’, and leaving messages for people I don’t know. Hiii, this ii^iis Eee^eeemmillyyyy cawwwling from Chaawwwrlawwttte, North Caaeeaarroliiinaaa….

Anyway, I’ll be in the city if you care/dare to meet and/or guide this boondoggler around. Fortunately, I’ll be staying with international news reporter and friend Gillian who will give me a primer on navigation - that is, if I can make it to her Manhattan apartment from JFK. But if I can do Paris, London, and Chicago, I sure as hell better make it through New York.

But before all this, Scott and I are going to drive up to Richmond late on Saturday (April 5), spend the night in a hotel, and drive back late Sunday. We’ve got a few pals up there with Plan 9, but the rest will be up to our curiosity. I won’t be able to tour the VCU campus or meet the director; I’ll just be getting a feel for the place. And I’ve started hearing back from students I’ve emailed so we may bump into one or two of them along the way. But we’re really just excited about having an impromptu mini-vacation, and using the hotel room to catch up on all the crime TV we missed since the cable cord was gnawed through about a month ago. (to be cont.)