My Mind is a Twisted Place

After some reflecting, I have decided that last night was a strange night. I do not know if it was something I ate- or didn't eat, as the fact may be- or is my mind just decided that it was time to Hash Shit Out and therefore it decided that torturing me was not completely out the realm of things it likes to do.

That said, it was not really that bad. I had the strangest dream, but I think I have successfully resolved that. The only problem is that I thought it was resolved before. Maybe it has been resolved all along, and I am just now realizing it. Who knows. The subconscious is a strange, strange thing.

The other mental roundabout of the evening was the grad school debate. Yes, it rages on. I realized this summer that it was assumed- even by myself- that I was going to grad school for sociology, and I am not sure that that is what I really want to do. I think it's interesting and I love it, but I'm not sure that pursuing it academically is for me. Yes, this DOES plunge my future into abject poverty, but let's face it: I've been heading the dirt poor route for some time now. Part of the problem with this is that it seems like a waste: I have struggled and worked hard to go above and beyond and sociology, and I'm not sure it's what I want to do with the rest of my life. I like many aspects of it, but I am not sure that I have what it takes to excel in the field. I am afraid that I would be working hard and striving all the time, and one thing doing this project this semester has taught me is that I can't do this all the time. I just can't. I am not sure that I am cut out for it.

And the more I think about it, the more I think I want to go for my MFA in creative writing. This opens up a whole other flow of thoughts of inadequacy and not being good enough. I know, I sound like I'm begging for sympathy and pitying myself like crazy, but it's actually not that at all. Or, well, not entirely. I am trying to be objective about it and recognize my own shortcomings, and to be realistic. My writing style isn't really what grad schools are looking for, I think. I think they want a more modernist approach, and I quite honestly think that that has its merits in some ways, but for the most part is absolute crap. It works for some people, but not for me. So, if my writing is even good, I am not sure that I would be able to get into an MFA program with it. I'm not even sure I'd be able to put together a decent portfolio in time to apply. But assuming that I get my act together and apply to places I want to go, I can't shake the feeling that my odds of getting in are slim to none. Perhaps this is my pessimism at its strongest.

I started considering this dilemma last night while at the pub. If I get the MFA, I want to be a writing professor. I have realized that, I have recognized it, and now I want it. If I don't get the MFA, I think I may want to go into publishing. But I could also go after the sociology PhD and teach students how to write soc papers, a skill which I am learning is both difficult and elusive, and no one seems to be able to find a consensus on it.

What I might end up doing, to both my and my parent's chagrin, is applying for both. Applying to like five soc programs and five MFA ones, and letting the dice fall where they may. The compromise in this sounds delightful, but part of me wonders if its actually a smart path or not.

Clearly, I label my own lacking confidence as a strict eye to what I consider realistic and unrealistic. This could be either good or bad.