OK, so that movie. The Secret. I liked it alright. It had a good message; one I really believe. Simply that you can’t really have something until you believe you can have it. My man finds the entire concept to be some sort of cult-like infomercial but I know this: you can’t go through life as a impossibilitist because then you can never do things like run a marathon, have a baby, meet the man of your dreams or…….have the School of the Art Institute of Chicago call you this morning and say they are willing to defer your admission for one more year.
Yup.
I had applied to only one graduate school, SAIC. I got in and promptly found out there was some cell division occurring in my uterus. Normally not a reason to not go to school but Andy is in an apprenticeship program here in Montana and my going to Chicago was going to force us apart for two years. And that just doesn’t work with a bug. So, I deferred my admission for one year knowing that I still couldn’t go this fall because Andy still has two years left but I thought, well, I thought, something will work out because it always does.
And I got a call this morning–before I even had my coffee–from a number I didn’t recognize and usually I never answer those numbers but I answered and it was the School asking me if I was planning to come to Chicago this fall. I said I had changed my mind and Michael asked why so I told him my story of bug (not the whole story just that I have one) and that I understood that I was only allowed to defer for one year. To which he said hold on there, I think I can pull some strings or something to that affect.
I wrote this a little over a year ago:
My man and I are pregnant and I am excited, sure, but I didn’t pick this. And sometimes when things pick you, it takes a while to absorb. And I fully absorbed it yesterday when I saw the ultrasound and a tiny flashing light that I am told was the heartbeat. It wasn’t an epic moment for me or it was…but not how it I am told is was going to be. It was really neat but not life changing. I felt simultaneous excitement, anxiety, love and loss.
So I am committed to not feeling how I am supposed to feel and just letting myself feel how I feel. And I feel a little sad that I can’t move to Chicago. That I won’t ever move there like I was planning: alone, wide-eyed, afraid and pulsing. Now I will move to Chicago after my husband is done with school and with a kid, a dog, two cats and a house full of stuff. It will be beautiful and perfect. Everything is different now.
And so here I am in this role of future mama and dealing with all that the universe is dealing me including tons of judgment surrounding my seeming choice to use my uterus instead of my brain.
To all you gardeners, runners, artists, moms, professionals: I declare that I choose both.
I don’t think I could have really understood how profoundly my life would change with the grand entrance of Margot Bea last December, quite possibly the best thing that has ever happened to me. Since her birth, I have thought many times I wonder what I’d be doing right now in Chicago? Walking the city streets, espresso in tow, with my new art school friends, talking about the current trends in contemporary art theory. Then I look at bug and that seems so far away, not impossible, just not my reality. I am getting a different kind of higher education.
Realistically, I may or may not go to Chicago but I am electrified at the thought that it still an option for me. It was an exciting jolt this morning. I asked her what she thought of moving to Chicago for two years and she smiled, stuck her tongue out and made a raspberry. Sounds like she’s in.
