Resisting the Spiral

Today's mail brought my second rejection letter--this one from my first-choice school. Because it's one of the best programs in the country and I didn't really expect to get in, I'm not as upset as one might expect. But I won't deny that some serious self-pity is starting to swirl in my head. I get caught up in the idea that because I went to a state university (where I know I got a good education), because I'm not solidly bilingual, because I'm not a published writer, because I don't have a fantastic story about overcoming adversity to come just this close to achieving my one dream (to be a writer and literary critic and college professor), and because I've lived in the same unromantic state for 26 years, I will never be among the handful of people selected from the hundreds of applications. For days now, I've been subconsciously convincing myself that I'm utterly unexceptional. And damn it, that has to stop.

So my goal for today, after I do the dishes and before I work on writing an article I've been toying with for almost a month, I'm going to sit down and make a list of the reasons I should get into at least one PhD program. Because if--if--I don't get into any, I need something to save me from interpreting that experience as hard evidence of my own unworthiness.