Compelled.

I have been pretty sad since my last post. The first step toward the vision I had for, well, the rest of my life, started with that June residency. As if that wasn't enough, I have been hit with other heartaches relating to my daughter and the love of my life, with whom I am now, no longer in contact.

Marlon. It's because of him that I stay single. I know no-one who moves me as he does. But I gave him up, sent him away, because he's not mine. After some six years of never quite making it, it turns out he belongs to someone else...

So two nights ago, I stayed up all night, after receiving yet some more disappointing news. I have cried recently more than I had in years. That night, two nights ago, was just more of that same unusual flow. My restlessness was compounded by calls of concern throughout the night that ensured that any chance I had to be taken over by sleep was consistently and thus permanently interrupted. My loneliness made me feel as if my head was under a blanket, I kept grasping for air, and fighting the urge to block my number and call him. This was too much to have to deal with by myself, but he couldn't be here for me anyway. I had no one who could satisfy my need for true, connected, immersed support.

I figured I'd have to let something go, and it would not be my baby's future. I wouldn't be compromising the dedication of time and self to her. I'd have to give up everything related to music - which is a big part of my life. Another loss.

To make up for my sleepless night, I slept throughout the day yesterday. First, however, I hung in my mind, sorting out the problems, and beginning the solutionary process. It was time to get it together. I sucks that I have to do this by myself, but that's the reality, so I just have to do it. I began to map out a plan, set a schedule for writing it out and beginning to implement it. The process of finding solutions is comforting to me. It let me sleep.

I love Edwidge Danticat. Maybe, I thought, I could approach her to mentor me as a writer. My circumstances may allow her to consider that. My acceptances may ensure her that my writing has reached a level that would warrent her consideration. As a fellow (amazing) writer and graduate of an MFA program, she'd know the significance of my situation, may be sympathetic. I would be. I have and continue to mentor, why should I not expect that someone would be interested and willing enough to mentor me?

I spoke to the lawyer representing NYU today. He said that NYU will allow me to use my transcripts to apply to NYU's MFA program. Their program is awesome, but doesn't have Non-fiction. I wonder if I should apply anyway. I write in poetry and fiction, but I really did want to go into a non-fiction program. I'd love to strengthen my poetry. I was accepted in poetry as well as non-fiction, so it's possible and applicable. I didn't apply in fiction, because I feel so weak in that area, but I really am very interested in developing my fiction chops...

I intended to study all three: poetry, fiction and non-fiction.

Sigh! Bennington.

With my transcripts, I still don't have a BA, I simply have enough credits to qualify for federal financial aid. Will NYU even consider me without a BA? That is what I thought was the big question when I began the process of applying to Bennington and Lesley. But the challenge lay elsewhere. What are the hidden challenges to these new paths, should I choose to forge one of them?

And really, as far as that goes, do I really have a choice?

Some will say I always have a choice. Those would be people who don't know me as one driven by compulsions, such as the compulsion to fight, and never give up.