In

Dear Temple University,

They said it couldn't be done! My high school's guidance department viewed me as a hopeless case from the start and didn't even attempt to "guide" me, opting to just send me on my merry little underachieving way. "Yes, Joe, your applications are in. Now, you're blocking my way to the cafeteria." An ex-girlfriend said I was too stupid to succeed. My own mother was wracked with concern. "Is it too late to apply to West Chester?" she'd ask. "But why?" I'd ask in return. "Oh, you know, just to be safe..."

You see my friend, you really were an enormous risk. For the sake of my rigorous "Stay as Relaxed as Possible (SRP)" approach to being alive, I decided to only apply to two schools: Drexel and yourself. Drexel at first glance appeared to have much to offer, but when you and I first met on the first day of classes, D had nothin' on ya baby! You were everything I wanted! It had to be you, babe! Now, we know my grades are no good, but I worked on improving them first semester. I also took this time to think about what I wanted to say to you. Things finally clicked a little before Thanksgiving (fitting, seeing as that's my favorite holiday). I told you about all the books I have read and how inspiring those have been and how that inspiration was fuel for a budding writer, a regular fucking Salinger; and I told you my birthday and my social (you're so trustworthy!) and my address. Mr. Tischler told you how wonderful I was and how I would thrive anywhere there was healthy discussion. I fucking wrote this! With my hand, with a Pilot G-2! You were going to fucking weep. You were going to say "We can let his grades slide. He is going to flourish here. We are going to prod and we are going to be part of something beautiful - the spark to this boy's career fire."

I handed this document to Mr. M in an orange folder but not before being hassled by Mr. F. "Why are you doing it in print? Online is so much more convenient." "Um..." I responded, really quite awkwardly. I'd soon find out though just how convenient when my application materials weren't mailed out until nearly a month later, just before Christmas break. But I could rest easy - I would know of my status early in the New Year.

Like applying in print, this too was wrong. A few weeks went by. January got warm. I finally got a word out of you though. The word was "Hold" and I was to remain on it indefinitely. Or at least until March. Well, fuck me. The world starts spinning. I got into Drexel. My friends made decisions. I explained, countless times to curious relatives that I "was still waiting on Temple, was on hold. Hold? Hold means they are having doubts!" "Oh, but you got into Drexel, did you not? You oughta be fine." "Yes, you're probably right..."

They're wrong of course, Drexel's standards are surprisingly low.

Anyway, you sly dog, just as I was getting impatient and bored of this hold game, you told me something new. No, I wasn't quite in but I was...waitlisted. To be honest, it kinda sounded like the same thing. Now, I was having second thoughts. Did I really want to go to a school that would jerk me around like this? Bob Saget, Obama girl, who cares. Fuck all. Culinary school, that's where I'm headed...

Whoa, Grandfather. He got me an in! I saw grandfather in Florida. He said he'd talk to a friend. We'll call him Mr. P. All you have to know about Mr. P is that he's very important. I met with Mr. P today and It was absolutely swimming. "Temple is just full of nice people like you," he said. We were best friends. He sniggered at my (award-winning!) piece about cheeseburgers. He said he'd make a call later that morning, open up a dialog. I got a call. You called them.

I'm in, I'm in, I'm in, I'm in.

Let us end generically and say that this, my friend, is the start of something very good.

Sincerely yours (or is it love already?),

Joe