endings and beginnings

Today was Muhlenberg's graduation. I remember my graduation from there 9 years ago (my Lord, I can't believe it's been that long) like it was yesterday, right down to my uncomfortable wedge flipflops from J.Crew. I remember the bittersweet feeling I had, knowing my time there was done. They have a great tradition at the school - freshman year, one of the first nights you're there, your RA gives you a card. You are supposed to write yourself a note. You get it back the night before graduation, and it's really a great thing. They do the same thing with a Candlelighting Ceremony.

After graduation, my family and I went out for dinner, at an Italian place, and then I went back to campus, where I spent the rest of the day/night packing up last minute things in my sorority house, and spending the night down the street, at a house where my friends Alex, Kate, Matt and Brian were living. A bunch of people came over, and we spent the night drinking beer, reminiscing about old times and laughing. At one point, late in the night, we decided to walk over to our freshman dorms. We ran into Campus Safety and asked them if they'd mind opening the dorms for us, and they obliged. It was awesome, to go back and see my freshman dorm. The Campus Safety officer showed us the secret staircases the dorm had (it used to be an orphanage, I think), and even offered to take us up in the college's bell tower. I guess they were used to students walking around on graduation night.

The next day, I remember throwing the last bags into my Jeep and driving back to NJ, where 2 days later, I had my first bunion surgery.

Its funny, how sometimes it takes time for you to realize how special things are. I don't think anyone in college realizes what a unique time it is.

Oddly enough, at work today, I heard Dispatch's song "The General", which is an older song, but we listened to that on repeat graduation night.

wow.

So. The last post doesn't even begin to touch what my life has been like in the past few weeks. I had said no to Columbia, because I was freaking out about housing and living costs, you know, the day-to-day. And they came back today with an offer I just cannot refuse. In fact, when I read the email, I was getting a PO Box for the summer and nearly had a heart attack in the post office. I kept rereading it to make sure I wasn't reading it wrong. It's that great. So for sure, definitely, absolutely, positively, I will be going to Columbia in the fall for my nonfiction MFA. I am excited, and more calm than I have been in a while about it. When I said no last Friday, I spent the weekend crying and thinking about what I'd done. I realized I made the decision out of fear and lack of self-confidence. And I didn't want to keep making decisions based on fear. I've done that for so long now, always taken the safe route, kept expectations low so I don't get disappointed......but this time, I'm going balls-to-the-wall, all out, giving it 150% and allowing myself to bask in the fact that they've pursued me and have given me this great opportunity. I've worked too hard for this not to slow down and really appreciate it.

I still have the summer in Chapel Hill, to work and save money (hopefully) and enjoy North Carolina for a few months. :)

There's a reason why Columbia kept coming back, after I kept saying no. I can't help but think I am supposed to be there, and whatever Higher Power there is made sure it would happen - they could have gone to their wait list, but they didn't. I am so grateful for this opportunity. So grateful.

thinking out loud.

Alright. So. Just when life seemed to be falling into place, things may not be as they seem. I've been having doubts about Columbia for a long time. The cost alone is staggering, the amount of loans I have to add on causes me physical illness, and the cost of living in NYC is a little ridiculous, no matter how much I may love the city. I am giving serious thought to low-residency programs. I am making pro/con lists, and right now, the major (only) con to Columbia is the cost. I've already made contact with someone at MSKCC to volunteer with their Visible Ink writing program, which is something I would love to do, since it meshes psychosocial aspects of cancer with writing (hello, this is like, MY LIFE). Every alum I've spoken with says no doubt the program has enabled them to get an agent and published. But is this all worth the price tag? Will I recoup my investment/losses? I'm not sure.

If I stayed here, I would like to take my CPT exam and be a trainer while continuing my freelance writing, and I've been applying to various jobs. The job market is terrible ANYWHERE, but we'll see what happens.

I am looking at several places, including Queens U of Charlotte, Vermont College of Fine Arts (VCFA), Bennington, UC-Riverside and Lesley University. ALL are cheaper - a lot cheaper - than Columbia. And because of student health insurance, I'd also be saving A LOT of money on health insurance as well. Let me put it to you this way: 2 years of a low-res program, even the more expensive ones, would still be less than half of what I'd need to take out in loans for the first year of school/living at Columbia. How can I argue with that?? How can I, in good conscience, then go to Columbia? If I had no graduate degrees and was graduating from undergrad all over again with no debt, it'd be a no-brainer. Of course, I'd take on the debt and just GO to Columbia. But now.....I'm 30. I have 2 grad degrees. Do I really want to do this? Is this going to be worth it? But everytime I think I have my answer, I think of how many times I've been in the library lately and picked up a book by a Columbia MFA grad. Or how many authors from the New Yorker's 20 Under 40 List went to the program. Or - as obnoxious as this may sound - what the simple name "Columbia" might mean to some agent or publisher, and thus open a door for me.

I am a mess.

mending.

So. I am still super sore, my leg hurts a lot and I am waiting on an MRI appointment. They want an MRI because of the amount of swelling and bleeding under the skin - it is hard for the doctor to palpate the muscle, and he explained that up to 25% of Achilles tendon tears are missed by the ER. He's not concerned about the bottom of the tendon, but the top - under the gastrocnemius, the big overlying muscle of the calf. He said that if there is even a small tear and we don't know it, years from now when I am exercising, I could really hurt it. And we definitely want to avoid this. So he wants to make sure there are really no tears in my leg muscles. I appreciate that, since Lord knows, I've already had enough. At any rate, this has forced me to take a break from ALL activity. I cannot even swim right now, because of the fact that the movement could hurt my calf muscle if there is a tear. It hurts to stand for a long period of time, so I am pretty much a blob right now.

I am still really conflicted about Columbia. I am beginning to wonder if I should choose a low-res program instead. This way, I can stay in Chapel Hill, work, do the MFA work, still make payments on my student loans....and even Queens University of Charlotte, is only about 13k a year, as opposed to Columbia's 50k+. That is A LOT easier to stomach. A lot easier. How low-res programs work is you apply, like regular MFA programs. They're NOT "MFA-lite". They are demanding, but you do the work while working your regular job and at home. Once a semester, there are "residencies", which are usually a week long, and you go there and meet with your peers and professors. During the semester, you send your work in to your advisor, participate online on message boards and forums, etc. There are actually a lot of creative nonfiction programs, including Vermont College of Fine Arts, which is very well known, Queens, Bennington and Goucher College. I don't know. The more I think about this, it seems like the best of all worlds. Is this crazy? Would I be crazy to give up Columbia?

Someone told me a quote last week: How do you build a house?.....One brick at a time.

It's easy to want to build a house all at once, with broad strokes and rushing construction and losing perspective that lots of tiny bricks make up the larger whole. At the age of 30, I am finally really starting to realize the little bricks that go into building the house I am creating for my life, and the work it takes to create the mortar and build upon each previous days' progress.

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.