I’ve Just Been Through the Love Blender! ! !*
The most brilliant thing I’ve heard in the past few days came from my mother. She told me that I’m at the point where I’m choosing among wallpaper patterns. I can’t really screw it up; I decided back at Sternbergers that these were the designs I liked best, but get ‘em home, and suddenly scalloped shells or abstract wavey things become life or death.

I should enjoy this. I’m somewhere I’ve never been before and possibly will not arrive at ever again, or at least for a long while: This moment of being courted not by one entity, but by four; four different MFA programs, all of whom want to know Where I Stand in my Decision Process, all of whom want to know, what are your questions? What are they? What? And act all surprised and miffed when I let on that I’m considering other programs with timetables that vary from theirs. They make sharp nasal exhalations and say Well, fine. Whatever. Just, call us, then. In the meantime, [cold voice] what other questions do you have?
So I ask one or two but then my mind goes blank which proves I was never any kind of journalist or decision-maker.

So, which is it?
Is it the school with the people who say, “Oh, Alice. We just love your work and all you do and might I mention you have a lovely phone voice plus you’re pretty. How do we know? We can just feel it,” like I’m Truman Capote and not just someone with the four essays I sent them plus the work on Small Publication’s website. Who insist that They’re the Program for me, no matter what my question is. Example:
Alice: Does your program teach any x-type of nonfiction? Because I’m really interested in that.
School: Oh, whatever we do, you know, I’m just certain that we are the perfect fit for you because you’re so neat and we are too.

Is it Fancy ‘n Cold, the place with the Name in Nonfiction, the place that won’t offer me an assistantship, seemingly because I should just be glad I got in? That shrugs and says, “We don’t care if you say yes or no. Because only 2 ½ people got into our fancyland program and 50 more are waitlisted, so if you decide to come then, yes, the connections here with Harpers and Jesus Christ could guarantee you Fancy Fame, but on the other hand, we coddle no one and it’s up to you to figure everything out while you’re here and don’t expect to actually receive an ounce of sympathy or support for the next two years, furthermore there is the distinct chance that a fellow student will actually cut your throat while you’re busy writing and guzzling Tums.”

Or is it the place whose director I totally hit it off with on a personal level on the phone? It doesn’t make sense to go somewhere because you’d like to have coffee with one guy.

And then there’s the Place Out West. And there’s Calexico-lovin’, Never-Been-West, romantic me. (except California. Whole different enchilada, and I flew.) “Ooh! Cowboy hats! Okay, I’ll go there,” a voice says.

And yes, I’m considering financial thises and thatses, and yes, I’m going over every little detail about who teaches where and yes, I’m getting the names of current students to talk with. And yes, yes and yes. But basically, it’s wallpaper time. And so, I’d like to open this up to you, dear reader. What do you think it should be? Where should Alice go? I await your sage wisdom. Please, comment below.

(*“Love Blender.” See Love is Hell: A Cartoon Book by Matt Groening. Copyright 1982-1986. Pg 2)