finding grace.

A lot has happened since Tuesday. The past 24 hours have been extremely busy. Yesterday morning I got into a car accident. I was sitting at a stoplight, and all of a sudden, BOOM - a car crashed into me, causing me to hit the car in front of me. I hadn't even seen it coming, because I wasn't looking in my rearview mirror, since I was stopped. The impact sent my phone flying, my sunglasses flying off my face, and crushed my coffee cup, spilling coffee all over my console. I don't remember this, but apparently my face hit the steering wheel (yes, I was wearing my seatbelt), because my nose started bleeding. My right leg that had been on the brake banged against the dashboard and then somehow got wedged in the lever to move the driver's seat. I don't even know how it happened, but the impact was that great. He just never stopped. The driver admitted he hadn't been paying attention, and he'd had cataract surgery the day before. A Good Samaritan who witnessed it pulled over, called 911 and made sure we were okay.

Long story short, my Jeep had to be towed and I am waiting to see if it's totaled. My license plate was torn off and bent in half. The cop drove me to the hospital, and I did not have a concussion. They did x-rays to make sure there was no tibial fracture, and they don't think my calf muscle is torn. My orthopaedic surgeon wants to see me on Monday to look at my muscle, just in case. My shin is swollen and black and blue, and my calf is painful and bruised, but I am okay. I am sore all over, but I am alive and here.

Last night, when I got pictures of my nephew dying eggs, I realized how thankful I was that I was able to walk away relatively unscathed. Life really can change in an instant, and G-d forbid things had been worse.....no matter how bad things are, there is always some beauty and grace to be found. Maybe something or someone was watching over me.

So now, I am dealing with insurance companies and rental cars and so forth.....but I am alive and well, and that's all that matters, right?

There but for the grace of G-d go I.

wishing.

Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it. How often have we heard that? It's true. I hate writing this, because it sounds ungrateful, but I'm not sure I want what I wished for. I don't know if it's anxiety or fear talking - and it very well may be - but I don't know if I should go to Columbia. In all honesty, I applied thinking I'd never get in. Stupidly, again, I thought I'd get into UNC. My GRE scores were higher than last year's admitted students' scores, my writing sample (Master's thesis they wanted) got Honors, my rec letters kicked ass.....in short, I thought I would get to stay here in Chapel Hill. I wouldn't be faced with this. And I sent in my first deposit last week to Columbia, of my hard-earned money, and all I felt was dread. Fucking dread. Not even excited-dread, but full-on, from my toes DREAD. The main reason I sent the money in is because I didn't want to regret it later. Is that a good reason? I don't want to live in Manhattan again. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. I cannot even think of driving up North for good. I honestly can't even visualize it. Part of me thinks I would make it halfway, and end up driving back here. Or cry the whole 8 hours.

I struggle here. I work my ass off and live paycheck-to-paycheck, bill-to-bill. Did I think I'd be like this at 30? Not a chance in hell. But I love living here in Chapel Hill. It's the place I've lived the longest since college, and I have made a home here. It is familiar. I am healthy here. My soul is able to rest here. I have come home to myself here in a way that I'm not sure I'd be able to do in NY. Up North, there's always, always some sort of competition, or standards to live up to, especially in Manhattan. Here, it's relaxed. It's not about the latest bag, or clothes, or whatever. People are nice here. I have my tri club and am finally opening myself up to others and getting to know my teammates. I joined a running group, even though I'm only walking for now, because of my stress fracture. When I think about NY, I am not even happy. I should be. It's an Ivy League MFA. It's one of the top 20 in nonfiction writing. Alumni of the school include Kiran Desai, Dinaw Mengestu, Lionel Shriver, Alexandra Styron (William Styron's daughter), the Freakonomics author guy, and more. I will have opportunities to intern at magazines and papers and in writing programs at MSKCC.....but I cannot get excited about it. Is this just super-anxiety? Or is this my gut? I'm trying to tease this out.

The money I sent to Columbia could have gone toward my personal trainer exam. Part of me wants to forget about the rest of the deposit, get my certification, be a trainer and write. I don't even know anymore what the best thing would be for me. The thought of adding on 150k plus worth of loans makes me physically fucking sick. Would I get a book deal or make connections? Maybe, maybe not. There's no guarantee.

I don't know. I don't know anymore. How sad. I always thought I had my life planned out, a trajectory for success. And now I don't know anything and feel like I'm not quite going anywhere.

enough.

I am a Type A personality.

I think most people have probably already figured that part out, but I thought I'd mention it anyway. I have been this way ever since I can remember. In fact, one of my first memories that really stings is when I was put in the "lower" math group when I was in 5th or 6th grade. This may not seem like a big deal, but I went to a small religious day school - 20 kids in my whole grade. About 14 people were in the "upper" math group, and 6 of us were in the lower one. Mind you, I had never been in the lower anything. Just the year before, I was in Rogate (some sort of gifted group) and went to Rutgers to present something or another, and took the SATs as a middle schooler. I started kindergarten at 4 and was reading up a storm by the time I hit middle school. Failure was not something with which I was familiar. I remember crying for weeks at home, until I finally got to move up to the other group.

For college, I applied to one place, Early Decision. I've earned graduate degrees. I'm not what you'd call a "relaxed" person. If I can be better at something, I want to be. I feel guilty when I'm doing nothing. As a freelance writer, I have had to learn (not very well, either) that I cannot work ALL the time, that I have to schedule in "down time" as well. After 2009's colossal PhD failure, I have to admit, I was very nervous about MFA applications.

So when I was at the orthopaedic surgeon's office on Wednesday, I did not react well when I was told I had stress fractures in my 2nd metatarsal. I had suspected as much, since the top of my foot had been hurting, with some diffuse swelling since Monday. I admit, I actually started crying in the office. *sigh*. He told me it was common, and he's right - since my first metatarsal doesn't bend, the other metatarsals have to pick up the slack. And since my calf muscle and ankle muscle are weak on that side, that adds to my risk of stress fractures. So. Yeah. No impact activities for me. I can walk (slowly), swim and bike. I admit, though - I AM A BAD PATIENT. I will tweak guidelines and push it to the limit if told I can only do so much. I am stubborn and persistent and do my medical research. So my surgeon and his PA explicitly told me to TAKE IT EASY. And this time, I am following their advice. And it sucks. It is so hard to do nothing, to rest. I hate it. Walking slowly at a park the other day, I felt stupid and slow. I am an athlete; this is not who I am. Athletics is something I am good at, and to not be successful is a blow. I ran my first mile since March on Tuesday, and was finally starting to get my "runner legs" back - you know the kind; the visible quads and no flesh jiggling when you run. sigh. I'm planning on biking and swimming to at least stay in shape. And perhaps the elliptical for fitness maintenance. (ALL approved by my doctor, mom, so don't worry). Just when I wasn't planning on joining my gym right now because of the expenses I have for Columbia.

Talk about a metaphor for my life, right? At a time where my stress is so high I have crying jags from anxiety daily (about moving to Manhattan again, Columbia tuition and loans, leaving Chapel Hill, life, etc), I am being forced to stop and slow down. I am being forced to be still and silent, and rest my body and take care of myself. To nuture myself, when I typically castigate myself for never being enough, never doing enough, never achieving enough. I am being given time to reflect on what is: I am going to Columbia. And time to examine how I will put my life together in the city. And maybe, time to examine what's really behind my not wanting to leave Chapel Hill.....because it's incredibly strong, the pull not to leave.

And right now, maybe that's enough.

30 Before 40.

So it's settled. I will be attending Columbia for their nonfiction MFA in the fall. *deep breaths*. I just mailed my deposit, and unlike when I lived in nyc before and mailed my PCOM deposit, I am not going to run back to the post office and ask them to fish the letter out of the mail bin so I could have it back. My choice was pretty much made for me, since UNC rejected me, thankyouverymuch, which I still don't understand. And wouldn't you know, I come home to an email about an oncology freelance writing job here in NC. sigh. I just have to have faith that it will work out. Somehow, in the end, it will work out.

I'm a big listmaker. Since turning 30 in December, I've been feeling a little bit like time is slipping by, unnoticed until another year has passed. I'm not upset about turning 30 - I think this will be the best decade yet - but there are things I want to do before I am 40. So here's my list, of 30 things I want to do before I turn 40.

1. Get a book deal and get published.

2. Go back to Israel.

3. Visit Italy.

4. Finish a half-Ironman by the time I am 35, and a full Ironman before I am 40.

5. Run a marathon.

6. Get married.

7. Become a mother.

8. Visit Prague and Croatia.

9. Pay off a good portion of my student loans (although, with Columbia.....not sure how likely that will be).

10. Run the NYC marathon.

11. Start a psychosocial oncology writing therapy program at a major cancer center (besides Sloan-Kettering, who already has one and that I'll be volunteering with come fall).

12. Get my ACSM personal trainer certification, finally.

13. Read Ulysses by James Joyce.

14. Read a good portion of the "classics".

15. Learn Italian.

16. Start practicing yoga routinely. For real.

17. Visit California and my friends Jessi and Carrie.

18. Be the best aunt ever to my nephew Trey. :)

19. Maybe race the Kona Ironman (if I get in by lottery).

20. Meet Molly Barker, the founder of Girls on the Run. We've emailed and we're Facebook friends, but I have yet to meet her.

21. Get something published in The New Yorker.

22. Own a Balenciaga motorcycle bag.

23. Try skiing.

24. Come back to Chapel Hill to live.

25. Visit Niketown - THE Niketown, in Oregon.

26. Resting when I need rest and listen to my body, to avoid future injuries.

27. See Tori Amos in concert.

28. If the Stones go on tour one more time, see them in concert.

29. See Madonna in concert.

30. Be healthy enough to do even more than I thought possible in my 40s.

Trey's 4th Birthday Letter.

Dear Trey,

4 years ago I was introduced to a new kind of love. The kind of love you did not even know existed, that is so strong you can actually feel your chest expanding because your heart is swelling so much. The kind of all-consuming, bone-crushing, unexpected love you did not even know was possible for you to feel, let alone for someone you didn’t even know yet. I held you when you were a day old, and though I knew it was impossible, I could have sworn you looked right at me, taking in your surroundings. Right then and there, I knew that life would never be the same. I became an aunt, my most valued role yet.

Buddy, every time I see you I am amazed at the little boy you have become and are constantly becoming. Looking at you, I see your daddy, my brother; the similarities are that striking. Your laughter is infectious and you are able to find joy in the most mundane of situations. Watching you interact with people, you are like a giant heart with legs - your love spills over through every pore of your body, with every smile and hug and high five you give. Your brain is always working, and you question everything. Please don't ever lose that. You are sensitive, sometimes highly so, and I think this is a strength of yours. It will make you a wonderful man in the future. To hear you recite the words to the entirety of "The Polar Express" makes me smile; to wake up to your smile an inch from my face and hear you whisper, "Is it morningtime, JJ?" is the best alarm clock imaginable. I look at you and I wonder how we got so lucky to have such a wonderful little person in our lives. I know that everyone who meets you will be the lucky ones, that everyone whose life you touch is that much richer for it.

Though it has only been 4 short years, it is hard to remember my life without you. When I try to picture it, your absence is glaringly apparent. You have filled up my life and the lives of our relatives with such love, generosity and laughter, that without it, we would surely be the ones lacking. I cannot be there for your birthday this year, which breaks my heart, but know that I love you very much and wish I could be there. You are the best nephew I could ever imagine, and I am proud to be your aunt.

Love you boo,

Aunt JJ

the right kinds of regrets.

I still haven't made an official decision on school yet. Which is kinda dumb, considering I really only HAVE one acceptance yet. I'm still waiting on UNC, and to be honest, if I am accepted there, the choice may be really hard to make. And I'm scared that I may make the choice based on the wrong reasons.

Everyone on Facebook in the MFA group says not to go into debt. But from my standpoint, every graduate degree comes with some sort of debt. It's not an entitlement. I also am not getting this degree simply "for the craft." I see it as a means to an end, to be a teacher, and to be a professional, in addition to being a writer. I see it as learning the tools of the trade, of language and words, of English and composition. When I graduate, I don't have a problem with working full-time, whereas many of these people want to concentrate on their writing, or their books. Maybe that's the difference between where we're coming from.

But I worry that if I got into UNC, I would make the choice based solely on having less debt when I graduate, along with being able to stay in my life here, in a place where I am comfortable and safe and that I love. Less change and risk. In short, I may make my decision based on fear, rather than hope. I may sabotage my dream. I am fully aware of this.

I've mentioned before my "dirty thirty" post when I turned 30. I am trying to consciously avoid acting from a place of "no" and act from a place of "yes", but it's hard. There's a song I fell in love with back in December, and it's beginning to take off now - Tamar Kaprelian's "New Day." The chorus exemplified how I felt when I turned 30, and it's still true today.

Say goodbye, say goodbye

To the way I was before

Say hello, say hello to a new way

I was lost but I found

What I was looking for

Waking up, waking up to a new day

Am I ready to take the next step? Am I ready and willing to believe wholeheartedly in myself and my abilities? How much am I willing to invest in my dream? I don't want to have regrets - at least, if I do have regrets, I want them to be the right ones, as K said to me today. I chose PCOM over UMiami and regret it to this day. I don't want to do that again. I don't want to live with the "what ifs" and the "I wish I should haves." And I'm afraid that if I don't go to Columbia, I will have to live with that for the rest of my life. I feel, already, at the age of 30, that I have too many regrets already. When do I draw the line? Is regretting not going to Columbia a worse regret than pinching pennies for the rest of my life to pay student loans? What about the off chance that I wind up with an agent and book deal? I'll never know unless I take that risk.

fear of flying.

The decision-making is still going on. My stomach is upset pretty much 24/7. I even have dreams about NY and writing and nonfiction workshops. I talked with another nonfiction graduate who had her book published - and optioned for tv/movie - and she was a huge help. Everyone I have spoken to has raved about the program and vouched for the helpfulness of the professors. It is an academically rigorous program - twice the credits of most others - which makes me a bit nervous, but also reassures me that students get their money's worth. It is intimidating, for sure. I've never taken a writing class, never taken a workshop, and haven't taken an English class since undergrad.

I've been reading books by professors and graduates of the program, and I have to say, much of the time, I am blown away. My heart actually beats faster when I think about being in a class with one of these professors. That sounds crazy, but it's true. Is that a sign that this is the right place, that this is where I am supposed to be? If someone has a talent, wouldn't it be the most appropriate thing to have them go somewhere where it will be nurtured, honed and developed? And shouldn't that person go to the best possible place they can, to take their gift to the maximum it can be?

In December, on my birthday post, I said that I felt 2011 would be a year of blossoming. If I don't take this opportunity, would I be opting to instead remain closed tight in a bud? Choosing the familiar option, instead of the thrillingly new option that could potentially take me to new levels? The below quote is one of my favorites, by Marianne Williamson. Is this anxiety just my fear about taking a risk and possibly succeeding?? Failure is scary, but success can be equally scary, especially if it is more than we ever thought possible. I've explained my Columbia acceptance away time and time again - they take 25 nonfiction people, which is a big class; they just want tuition money; my writing isn't really that good - instead of really thinking, hmmm. The admissions committee saw something in me. They believe in me enough to offer me this spot. And by no means am I thinking I am all that. But would it kill me to believe in myself a little more and open myself up to the fact that maybe this huge risk (financial and otherwise) will pay off exponentially?

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We are born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

money matters.

Okay....I almost wasn't going to write about this, and I'm still not sure if I should be doing this. That being said, if people are just going to post comments that provoke even more anxiety in me, please don't comment at all. I don't feel like getting into a discussion about this, I'm just venting some of my anxiety.

I was accepted to Columbia. Yes, it's one of - if not the - most expensive MFAs in the country. It is also one of the most well-known, with an excellent track record of publication. Some of the most amazing writers I can think of teach or visit to teach there. Are there many other programs like this? Of course. I applied to programs in areas where I wanted to live, and where I could see myself pursuing employment, and for a writer, nyc seemed like a good fit *for me*. I know it's not for everyone. But people love to tear the school down, and I'm wondering why this is necessary. Yes, there's shitty funding. Let's get over it. The majority of students DO take out loans to go there, so it's definitely not "just for rich kids." When I was there for social work, I knew of NO ONE who *didn't* have loans. In the world of graduate education, student loans are typically a given. There is a trend in the MFA world to want to not pay for the degree; an expectation that it should be funded. Needless to say, fully-funded programs are highly competitive, for the sheer fact that tons of well-qualified individuals apply for them. While I see the argument in this, I would also say that insisting on not paying for the degree kind of reinforces the idea that the MFA is a "frill" degree. Yes, it is an art degree, and therefore seen as somewhat "less than" something like an MS or JD or MPH. But the arts matter. We need to insist that they matter and be taken seriously. In my experience, I've never heard of someone not expecting to pay for an MA, MS, MPH, etc. It is an investment, and I believe - I have to - that it will yield returns. I can't help but feel that by insisting we shouldn't pay for an MFA, we are reinforcing the devaluing of the degree. But that's just my two cents. In fact, I can't even take credit for that - someone else mentioned it to me last week. I had never even thought of that before, but the more I did, it makes sense.

Is taking graduate loans out for everyone? No, and I can understand not wanting to be under the shadow of debt. But the majority of graduate students do it, and financial aid for higher education is a reality for most people.

This all being said, does the sheer enormity of the loans scare the shit out of me? Of course. My days are constantly full of anxiety about this. I still haven't decided what I am doing re:school, and the money will certainly be an issue. But as much as we may hate it, labels and branding matters. Will the Columbia name help me? Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway, that's just my personal opinion. And again, I don't feel like rehashing this discussion over and over in the comments. That's been done on numerous websites, blogs and Facebook, and I'm not here to change anyone's opinion on the situation, or argue that one type of program is better than another. It all comes down to fit, in my opinion, anyway.

New York state of mind.

Me and my favorite little guy

Matching Shirts!

Sitting on the steps of Low Library at Columbia

So. I went into the city while I'm up North visiting, and it was the first time I'd been in the city since March 2009. To be honest, though I've really missed Manhattan, I haven't realistically thought about moving back. I love my life in Chapel Hill. I live in a wonderful New Urbanist neighborhood; the town feels like a small town, where the baristas and workers at the co-op know me and the employees at B&N and Dick's Sporting Goods know me as well....I've built a life there in the almost 4 years I've lived there. A large chunk of my wardrobe is Carolina blue, I live for March Madness and the hatred for Duke runs through my veins as though it's always been there. In short, I have become a Tar Heel. Anyway....as I got into Penn Station and bought the MetroCards for my mother and I, that familiar thrill started trickling into my blood - the electric undercurrent of the crowded station, the constant humming of the city and overstimulation wherever you turn. Riding the 1 train up to Columbia, I passed the old familiar stops that I used to frequent so much - 59th St/Columbus Circle, where my favorite Whole Foods is, as well as the Borders and J.Crew I would shop at; 66th St/Lincoln Center, where the B&N was that had the amazing 4th floor cafe where I would stare down at the city while drinking my coffee and doing homework; 72nd St with the Urban Outfitters, the station where I saw the man get hit by the subway train; and 110th St, the stop that would signal it was time for me to get off and walk the two blocks to my apartment on 112th, between Broadway and Amsterdam. Finally, we got to 116th and walked up the subway steps, and as we stepped into the sunlight and turned to the left, there I saw it: Miller Theater, Columbia University School of the Arts.

We stepped through the open gates of the University, and though I hadn't been on campus since 2004, I fell in love with it all over again, like I'd never been gone. The campus will do that to you. It is an oasis of beauty and green in the concrete jungle of the city. Personally, I've always been reminded of the movie "Dead Poets Society." Especially in Butler Library, where it is hard not to be blown away by the marble and chrome. My mom and I walked up the steps to the School of the Arts, and I kid you not, as crazy as this sounds, I was honestly excited and thrilled that I was actually here, that I was actually doing this, that it might become a reality. I met with some of the admissions people, the financial aid rep (who assured me that I would not have to sell any non-essential organs to afford the 50k-per-year tuition), and went up to the 4th floor, where the Writing department is. the students were on spring break, but I was able to see the classrooms, the student lounge and was given the student handbook, a course listing packet, a thesis anthology from last year's students and a copy of the literary journal "Columbia." Looking at the rooms where workshop and lecture would be, I couldn't help but think of the writers that have sat in those rooms before - Jonathan Ames, Tama Janowitz, Meghan Daum, Heidi Julavits, Susan Minot, Rick Moody, Vendela Vida, and of course, the infamous James Franco. I know college is a business, but it felt like they genuinely wanted me to go there.

I left there wishing that I didn't love it so much, that I wish I had found more - something, anything - wrong with the program, other than the tuition. In their defense, there are actually more financial aid opportunities than you might be led to believe otherwise....many of which start the second year, unfortunately.

Anyway. After we left campus, we had delicious falafel at Amir's, went to see my old apartment building, and stopped at Book Culture across the street, which used to be Labyrinth Books when I lived there. Then we went to Pinkberry (a great addition to the 'hood), and hopped a cab to the East Side, where we went to Dylan's Candy Bar (because I love it) and Bloomingdales, where we had coffee at David Burke (he of David Burke and Donatella fame) and did some shopping. It was an exhausting day, but very fun and very tiring.

So, other than that, I still don't know what I will be doing come fall. The New School has not found it in their hearts to even show me the courtesy to let me know their decision, even when I explained I was only visiting the city for a day; and UNC informed me they are STIIIILLLL making their PhD decisions. So. If college is a business, guess who's probably getting my money?

what does regret cost?

So. It's been a week since I was accepted to Columbia. I'm stiiiiiill waiting on UNC and The New School, although I'm not holding out hope. I don't know if I will go to Columbia. I am trying to weigh whether the debt will be worth it, if the internship experiences and connections there will help me get a job and experience, and what they can do for me as a writer. But is that worth adding six figures to my existing graduate school loans? I have been physically sick for a week, trying to figure this all out.

Let me explain this, since many people don't know. Writing programs are not easy stuff. Statistically, it is harder to get into an MFA program than medical school, considering the number of people applying and the actual spots available. There are many people in the Facebook group I'm in who did not get in anywhere, and they applied to 8, 9, 14 programs. Some of them, this is their second time around. I'm not trying to be obnoxious by quoting that, but too many people assume writing is an easy field that anyone can get an MFA in. Nope. It - like any other field - is work. It may not carry the prestige of medicine or law, but it is hard work.

Not many people know this, but back in 2006, when I was applying for PhD programs in psychology, on a whim, I applied to Columbia's MFA. Deep down inside, even then, I wanted to do this, but didn't think people would be too happy if I pursued it. So I applied and didn't tell anyone. Needless to say, I was rejected - which only makes this acceptance that much better. (I know, I am cringing slightly inside when I think about how maybe I should have just tried again the following year.....but then I wouldn't have moved to NC or worked at MSKCC, so maybe things worked out like they were supposed to).

Back in December, I posted that I wanted to make decisions in my thirties based on love and hope, rather than fear. I am afraid that if I don't take this once-in-a-lifetime chance, I am making that choice based on fear, and not hope. I am afraid I will regret it forever. At least with medicine/nursing, I can say, hey, I don't regret this, because I tried. I tried my hardest to succeed in classes, and it wasn't for me. I just couldn't do it. But at least I know. And I have no regrets. I wanted to embrace my thirties with abundance and authenticity - and this chance has presented itself. A chance to pursue what I love - and what I am truly, really good at - for two years. It can be hard sometimes to find what you are good at, and I am finally finding it; I'm finally accepting where I excel. That feeling, after feeling like you're okay at lots of stuff, but not really GREAT at anything, is wonderful. To learn to be an even better writer, intern at publishing houses and make connections and friends. What is this all worth? Is my regret worth 100k? If I don't go to NY, will that lingering regret cost me much, much more?

I know that if I go, there is no guarantee that I will publish books like Lionel Shriver, Kiran Desai or the authors of Freakonomics - all Columbia MFA grads. I know I do not need an MFA to be a writer. Dave Eggers, Jonathan Safran Foer and Nicole Kraus all do not have MFA's. I do need one, however, if I want to teach, since it's the terminal degree.

But do I give myself the chance anyway?