How much does a moment weigh?

...And, do we exist just so that snowflakes have a warm place to land?

Okay, philosopy wax aside, I need to post this.

This year has been brutal. Yes, it was launched with great hope because of New Year's. Yes, it is crashing and burning because of my failure to land the next big thing.

While in Charm City, I applied to five schools and applied for two grants. I submitted a paper to a student paper competition. So, all in all I've been awaiting answers to 8 questions. All but one are answered.


Harvard: Accepted, with loads of ca$h.

Johns Hopkins: Accepted, with loads of ca$h.

Wharton at UPENN: Rejected.

Princeton: Rejected.

Stanford: Rejected (with a smarmy, "We'll take you into our Master's program, for a fee, of course.")

Graphics Section of ASA Student Paper Competition: Slapped in the mouth. Four out of 24 papers selected, and mine did not make the cut.

Department of Energy Computational Science Grant: Slapped my grandma in the face. (This hurts worse than my face getting it).

The question still lingering is if I got the NSF Graduate Fellowship grant. It is a huge honor and a nice stipend. The proposed project is the same as that of the rejected DOE grant: to develop mathematical models to further Paired Kidney Donation.

I have an email sitting in my inbox.

It is from the NSF.

It has been sitting there for the last 4 hours.

It is my last stand for having a great year. A year that launches a thousand ships.

I do not want to look because I feel I will get distracted from my work this week if I do.

I have to finish my thesis this weekend. It is the reason I am in Charm City right now and not the Square State. I also, have to finish my revision of the graphics paper (the one that the ASA Graphics Section rejected) for two competitions with deadlines of April 1st.

I must stay focused.

But the moment weighs on me. It weighs on me like a thousand ships.

One thousand ships.

However, to draw it out even more, the anticipation, the excitement, the dread, I wanted to list evidence and superstitions in a "Point, Counterpoint" fashion of my speculation as to what the answer lying in that email is.

Point: Email was sent by Ryan R. Krausmann. I did a little research. Mr. Krausmann is the "Help Desk Team Lead - NSF Graduate Research Fellowship Program." If it was a positive response, they would have had Mr. NSF send the letter, not the male secretary.

Counterpoint: Frequently, all responses come via an administrative assistant because the high-ups are too busy rolling in money like Mike Meyers did in "54."

Point: Internet rumor, which was made known to me by Drewborg, who also applied for a NSF grant, said that the NSF always notifies on a Friday. I received my notification on a Thursday. Bad news always comes ahead of schedule.

Counterpoint: The rumor speculated that they tell applicants on Friday so that they do not have to receive hot-headed calls asking "Why didn't I win, Goat-f***er!" Therefore, they would notify the winners a day ahead so that they could receive calls singing "Thank you, and I love you. May I send you a case of Oatmeal Stout from the Square State?"

Point: The email is only 11k.

Counterpoint: You can't really apply the "small envelope" theory to emails.

Point: God will not allow me to have this grant because instead of waiting for him to provide a bread carrying raven to feed me, I went to McDonald's at 10:45PM after getting back to my hotel from working on my thesis at Bayview.

Counterpoint: God threw a shooting star down from Heaven across the sky upon my exit from said McDonald's. I wished upon it that I would win the NSF Grant.

Rebuttal to counterpoint: That wasn't a star - it was the tardy raven being chucked through the atmosphere by Gabriel.

Point: When I sent an email to Drewborg asking if he had received an email from Ryan Krausmann, he replied "Mum's the word." which means I am not telling which means he did receive it and the probability of us both not getting it is higher than the probability of both of us getting it so I didn't get.

Counterpoint: "Mum's the word" is British and therefore has no meaning in the United States.

Well, here's the deal. I am going to finish my graphics paper and review my thesis. Then, I will check the email.

If I do not get it, I will rack myself with a gunrack (not a riflerack, for all you irony loving fans of Full Metal Jacket).

If I do get it, I will go down to the 24 hour KFC in the Travel Plaza in the worst part of Charm City, order 54 chicken breasts (they should always come in pairs, baby!), take them up to my hotel room, dump them out on the bed I am not using, roll around in them as if I was Mike Meyers, a poor man's Mike Meyers.

Time elapses....

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Got my graphics paper done. Now I need to read my thesis.

Time elapses.

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Thesis is reviewed. I think I will check my email. Oh, dear, I need to log-in. Just a second.

Time elapses.

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I'm logged-in. And I'm nervous. I'm nervous and its okay.


And the results are:

Sorry, I got distracted. Slow internet here at the Best Western.

I just read this.

It appears that these fine folks received an email today as well, and did not get the NSF grant.

It appears I did not either.

But, not all is lost - I have received an "honorable mention," which is basically saying I got second place at the special olympics (psst...and I'm not disabled, but I'm going to be soon).

Bring on the gun rack.