After many years of wanting to I have finally applied for an MA.
At Central School of Speech and Drama.
My application was late.
My statement was hurried.
My essay was rushed.
I talked too much…
I could go on about how the interview and application process went but hey, I think you might be getting the gist already. It was a week ago. They said I would know within two weeks whether my application was successful. I’m playing the waiting game. The longer I wait the more sure I am that I didn’t do a good enough job. This would be manageable if my desire to getting didn’t grow every day I don’t know. I feel like a love struck teenager waiting for the call. Had I followed the more traditional performing arts route of auditions galore, I would, no doubt, be a bit more used to this… As it is I feel awful.I’m not enjoying the wait one little bit.
I’m back, just had to check my emails for the 37th time today.
It’s fairly normal for artists to be a bit bonkers, I’m aware that I fall into this category and that it can be a bit tough on the nearest and dearest. Life is a roller coaster baby….one just has to develop a thick skin.
My brain can’t accept that there will not be an email sent at 4 am. That Central School of Speech and Drama will not be staffed at this hour of the morning. The admissions department are just not feeling the same as me about this information.
At 9am the temptation to call and yell” Just tell me if I got a place ! ” is diluted by the fact that I’m getting ready to say goodbye to the family as they whisk off to cousins in Dorset for the day. I’m staying here. I have a class to teach this afternoon and then a free taster workshop at …yes, you’ve guessed it, Central, this afternoon.
The house rattles me and my jitters around like beans in a maracas. I don’t call Central. I prepare food for when the gang will return this evening. I check my emails… again and again. The post arrives. I tidy the back room, plan my class for this afternoon, have a coffee (wise move with these jitters? I think not) I go to have a shower up the stairs, past the big white envelope sitting on the doormat. The big white Central School of Speech and Drama post marked envelope on the doormat. The even though I’m six stairs up I’m going to thunder back down to get you envelope. Now, I’m on my own. No moral support, no one to get excited, nervous, terrified, or jubilant with me. Is now a good time to open it? ARE YOU KIDDING ME……..?
I can’t believe I was accepted. Somebody just pressed GO on the roller coaster ride.