Rejection x 6, on behalf of 20-somethings

This is not a rejection letter. It is six rejection letters, edited into one very clear message: I am not going to enter a PhD program in Anthropology this year. Taken individually, the letters are not terribly difficult to rationalize-- "It probably wasn't the best fit," "I kind of bombed that interview," or even-- "Oh well, it's cold there." Taken as a whole, this NO means a strange mixture of opportunity and quarter-life crisis. 

Ambato, Ecuador

 Exactly one year ago today (April 3), I received notice that I won a 10-month Fulbright grant to Ecuador. It was a truly happy day, and the months that followed were hopeful and sure. Fulbright bought me a round-trip ticket-- Depart Columbia, SC on October 4, 2010/ Arrive Columbia, SC on August 4, 2011. The plan was to enter a graduate program upon returning to the States. I proceeded, under the impression that the plan would work as long as I committed to making the plan work. I'm writing to announce that the plan didn't work, despite my best efforts.

Muisne, Ecuador

I'm not very familiar with rejection. Likewise, those of you reading my blog are probably not familiar with me being rejected. In my 22 years, I've had almost every door I knocked on opened. While I won't diminish the accomplishments I made after walking through those doors, it often goes overlooked that my educational/socioeconomic/athletic/etc background provided keys and a cushy red carpets that few other people enjoy. So I was surprised to receive 6 rejection letters. I believed I would be admitted to at least one program, or else I would not have expended the financial/intellectual/emotional resources applying. I was not, however, angry or indignant, because I applied out of hope-- not entitlement. Top PhD programs in Anthro are competitive to the point where past red-carpets (ie Fulbright, fancy greek letters, shiny graduation cords) don't really guarantee anything. 

Oregon Inlet, North Carolina

I'd like to explain the experience of being an early-20-something to everyone who is not an early-20-something today. We are capable and optimistic. We are young professionals, grinding away for small salaries and often one benefit: the hope of eventually meeting the minimum requirements for a job that won't suck quite as much. We turn our resumes into academic cv's and then back into resumes. We fight tirelessly to prove our independence, to blaze our own path, and sometimes wake up thinking "I'm on my own!" and sometimes wake up wondering "why am I alone?" We date, casually, and know what casually dating means. We re-evaluate our career paths on a weekly basis, make bucket lists, go dancing until 4 am, stalk Facebook to compare ourselves to other 20-somethings, and get together with each other so we can laugh until we can't breathe. We talk about how great it is to be 20-something and free. But in the space between our last sip of our beer and next exclamation of "I love this song!", we silently acknowledge that it sometimes sucks, too.

I'm still 22 and living an absolute dream in South America, and I am confident I will find something to do that both pays bills and offers satisfaction. But I'm still not ready to talk about August 5, 2011. I have many more sleepless nights and phone calls and peaceful sunrises before I can announce my "now what" post-Fulbright life. Today I understand a little better why Rainer Maria Rilke said, "The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things," and what Samuel Beckett meant by "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."