It’s the night before I am to know, and I’ve decided that the radio is the sonic telling of my destiny.
It begins with “Take a Chance On Me,” which reminds me that I’ve become accustomed to the idea that I’ll only be accepted to a school on the grounds of my being “unorthodox” applicant. I wonder what chance an unorthodox applicant stands.
I switch to the Top 40 station, bombarded with the pop bliss of “I Feel It Coming.” I feel it coming too, Abel—but “it” is indiscernible. It could be fun and exhilarating, a beautiful relief, or it could be disappointing and sad. I am scared and excited and nervous, but I mostly just want to know.
Pop2k is next. I don’t think Chingy’s “Right Thurr” holds much significance. It certainly offers no consolation.
From the college themed station plays Tame Impala’s “It Is Not Meant To Be.” It is not meant to be. My acceptance is not meant to be. But many things could be meant not to be: A first line reading “Thank you, but…,” the disappointing visits to counselors and teachers to explain that their tireless efforts were not the magical push I needed to get in, the phone calls and texts at 5 AM, all sent to voicemail.
I switch to 90s on 9 where, with near perfect timing, Lisa Loeb tells me she turned the radio off. I follow suit.
The next day, I find out: I got in. ♦