Footnotes to a Former Life.

Hello to any readers still out there,

Wow… it’s been a while.

I unintentionally entered an all-consuming “logging off” era. After the quarter ended, I realized just how brutal it had been. It completely drained me and left me feeling defeated. So, I did what I probably should have done months earlier….I stepped away from electronics. I didn’t open my laptop once.

I just couldn’t.

As much as I needed the break, I really did miss writing. I was so excited to start this blog, but when push came to shove, grading, answering emails, and interacting with students took just about every ounce of creative energy I had. By the end of the quarter, I didn’t have much left to give.

But I’m back!

There are so many updates that I don’t even know where to begin. I think I’ll save some of them for future posts, but I do want to catch you up on what has happened since I first started this blog.

When I created it, I was… lost.

I had been rejected from several graduate programs that I had worked incredibly hard to get into, including the school I was already attending. Isn’t that wild? Apparently, I wasn’t “art historical” enough. Looking back, I can laugh a little, but at the time it absolutely crushed me.

I was accepted to a few programs, but none of them felt like the right fit. Some even promised funding during the application process, only to tell me later that, actually… they didn’t have any funding after all.

What?!

Why tell students they’re fully funded if they aren’t? That one still stings.

So, I stayed another year in my post-baccalaureate program (it’s a long story for another day). Honestly, I was in a slump. I started wondering if maybe I just wasn’t good enough for graduate school. For a while, I even considered giving up on academia altogether.

Thankfully, my advisors and friends refused to let me quit. They kept encouraging me to apply again, so I did.

This application cycle felt even harder than the first. More applications. More essays. More waiting. More rejection.

Then, in January, I attended a conference without really knowing what I hoped to gain from it. Surprisingly, I met so many wonderful people who encouraged me to keep applying. Several of them even suggested I apply to Ivy League schools.

My response?

“Dear God… absolutely not.”

I told them I’d be rejected immediately.

But they all said the same thing:

“You never know.”

For some reason, that sentence stayed with me. It kept nagging at me for weeks.

Eventually I thought…

“Eh… why not? I’m getting rejected everywhere else anyway. What’s one more rejection?”

So I applied.

In February, I attended another conference…this one much more aligned with my research interests. While I was there, I received an email from one of my dream schools.

I opened it.

“We regret to inform you…”

I was devastated.

The timing couldn’t have been worse. I spent the rest of the conference feeling defeated. I barely wanted to network. There was even a department chair from another university there promoting a program that would allow students to spend a year in Italy.

Normally I would’ve been all over that.

Instead, I remember thinking,

“Why bother? I’m not getting in anyway.”

Around that same time, I started this blog because I wanted to rebuild a part of myself that had disappeared. I wanted to write independently. I wanted to write because I enjoyed it, not because I had another paper due or another stack of assignments waiting to be graded.

Of course… winter quarter had absolutely sucked the life out of me.

So instead, I spent the next three months doing what I can only describe as a combination of bed-rotting, traveling, and trying to remember what it felt like to exist outside of academia.

Then March rolled around.

Applications were still trickling in. More waitlists. More rejections. More schools I wasn’t particularly excited about.

Then one evening, while I was sitting at home watching a basketball game, I got an email.

Late at night.

They even misspelled my name.

It began:

Dear Footnotes,

Congratulations on your admission…

Sincerely,

Columbia University.

I froze.

No.

There was absolutely no way.

I immediately opened my application portal, which somehow took me twenty minutes to find. Twenty minutes feels like a lifetime when your entire future is sitting behind one login screen.

Finally…

There it was.

I had gotten in.

I GOT INTO AN IVY LEAGUE.

What?!

I honestly thought I was going to pass out.

And then, somehow, things became even crazier.

One by one, more acceptance letters started arriving from incredible institutions I never imagined would say yes.

After years of wondering if I belonged, years of rejection, and years of questioning whether I was good enough…

It finally happened.

All of that hard work had actually paid off.

A few weeks later, I flew to New York City. I toured campuses, wandered around Manhattan, explored museums, and completely fell in love with the city.

It still doesn’t feel real.

However, ladies and gentlemen, you are officially reading the blog of an Ivy League student!

Not only did I somehow get accepted, but I was also awarded an incredible scholarship to attend. If you had told me a year ago that this would be my reality, I would’ve laughed in your face.

Now, as amazing as all of this has been, the journey wasn’t entirely smooth. There were plenty of mishaps along the way, unexpected obstacles, and even a few people who tried to diminish what should have been one of the happiest moments of my life.

But…

That’s a story for the next post.

These are the footnotes to whatever comes next…

Footnotes to a Former Life.

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