Well, today I got my Fulbright email telling me that my application had not--and I repeat, not--been forwarded to the Spanish Commission for consideration. At first by brain spewed all the data proving how absurd this was (e.g. I'm trilingual, I have a Masters Degree, I have 5 years of teaching and tutoring experience, I'm well-traveled, I've never visited Spain before, I wrote 2 very polished, honest and persuasive essays that even Dean Akai appreciated, I had a 3.96 GPA at Notre Dame, I have a solid, ambitious and workable secondary project), but then I realized it was just like applying to the JET program last year--I'm probably too old for them, maybe my GPA at Oberlin wasn't high enough, and realistically, I may seem overqualified to be a classroom robot. But maybe I'm flattering myself.
But ultimately it doesn't matter. I don't feel bad about this rejection at all even though I put so much time into my application for the simple reason that now Erika and I know where we're gonna live, now we can move to the city we've dreamed about living in: BARCELONA! And instead of finding out in May that I had to move to Galicia, or even worse, nowhere at all, now we can plan our new life in España tomorrow. And I'm delighted about this. So, fuck you Fulbright! Thank you Fulbright!
Another thing which I'm stoked about is that I have the perfect diversion to keep me busy between now and 6 Feb when I give my reading at Notre Dame in front of a decent-sized crowd of people from my novel BLANK and my new collection of stories called 2. I've already submitted my resumé to my first job and this week I'm planning on revising and then translating my CV into español, after which I'm gonna bomb companies with my CV and see if I can score a job antes de llegar, which would be so rad.
So Barcelona it is. ¡Vamos!