Delaware Loves It Some Bedingfield

I have great tidings of reasonable spiffiness.

First, UNC-G made its courtship official. Now I must set in motion the hope of in-state tuition. It would appear to be a fruitless endeavor, but with no stone left unturned I won't then kick myself in the ass too much.

Second, honestly, Deleware must love Natasha Bedingfield - for I have been accepted into their Economics Doctorate program. Huzzah? Huzzah.

Huzzah for two reasons. The first is the inherent coolness of being accepted into their program, even if it is not nationally ranked. The second is Delaware's obvious love of dance pop. Bare with me.

You see, I had this grand scheme. I would write my official statement of purpose with no specific University in mind and then tweak like a masochist for every school I applied to. Things were good, things were fine. Until Delaware required three essays. Three.

Three.

This in the midst of my last semester and dealing with...a lot besides school. So, what's a boy to do? What any right-minded fella would do - take his well-crafted and *shivers* glorious paper and gut it into three. I shiver with excitement, because while I was in a state of shock about where to begin, the entire process was like a work of modern art. A piece here, a piece there - a genre here, a genre there. Tragically, I fell in love with my writing at this point. More in love than usual, at least. And when I fall in love, I get...grand. My father often says, ripping off someone much more famous than he of course, if a writer thinks a sentence or phrase is the bee's knees it must be cut. Yet I did not cut. I was not too grand though. For even I can recognize when my amorous intentions with the pen become too much.

As I ended my last of the three essays (the key to each essay was the end, popping and locking was my only hope), I compared myself to a book. It is an old image but one of import. And considering my first essay contained a description of my education as a window unto the world (I know...), I figured that another over-the-top metaphor might not be so out of place. So...my life is a book. And there are pages in it yet to be written on. My last sentence stated my hope of writing upon those pages at Delaware. Cute, eh? I just hope it came across better than I'm sure it did here. Cute my writing is not. I like to think of it as, shall we say, bloody.

So, cute my writing may have been. It may have also been a direct plagarism of Natasha Bedingfield's recent hit "Unwritten" which is a delightful pop song about writing for yourself the pages of your life left to you. It was an incredible shock to hear Bedingfield's song about 2 weeks after I submitted my Delaware app. I suppose it is too much to hope that one of my application readers saw the book metaphor and laughed at my apparent plagarism?

Well, a boy can hope.