A New Day.

At the bottom of the stairs hangs the poster from Jen Lemen about today being a new day.

At night, when I tuck Maymo in after a difficult day (for him, me, or both of us) I will say, “And do you remember, Mr. Maymo, what tomorrow is..? A new…” and then toss in a random word like banana or shoehorn or piglet.. just so I can hear him scream, “NO! TOMORROW WILL BE A NEW *DAY*, MOM!!”

And.. today is a new day. It is infinitely better, happier and all ’round superior, to yesterday’s mulchy-feeling, miserable, sleep-deprived madness. There’s good stuff afoot!

A few days ago I applied to a 2-year college diploma program that made me giddy to ponder. I knew it was a long-shot, what with most people applying to college pre-December, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to try.

(That’s my newest life motto, by the way. “It never hurts to ask.“)

The program I applied for is considered highly competitive – with only 44 students accepted each year. It’s also only available full-time and only on-campus. There’s a co-op part of it. It sounds AWESOME!

And oh, man, I want to be in that class!

Then, after I had filled in all the forms, they noted that I had to send in my university transcripts and.. my heart dropped. No way around sending them that paperwork.

In 1993, I was in my first year of university. I lived in residence, in Toronto, and I was majoring in psychology. It was a huge adjustment to be on my own, away from home, and I was trying hard to balance academics, a social life (with all new people) and getting to know my way around a huge city for the first time.

And then, in early December of my first year, my mom suddenly died. It was unexpected and I, only 17 years old, was completely and utterly stunned. I spent the next few years – literally – wandering around in a haze of misery, depression and bad-decision-making.

In 1995, over a decade ago, the university kicked me out. I wasn’t attending classes (I was lying in bed staring at the wall) and I wasn’t doing well on exams (assuming I showed up for them or even knew when they were happening). I was drinking excessively and weeping excessively and, honestly, when they told me I wasn’t coming back it didn’t upset me in the slightest – my only fear was how to tell my Dad.

(In the end, I told him that I had “decided” to take “a break”. He was fine with that.)

So.. The idea that someone would base a decision to admit-or-not-admit me to college on THAT transcript? Oh man. Not good. Not good at all.

But, as required, I requested my transcripts from university to be sent to the college. And I felt sick, thinking that I was wasting money just by applying. And I felt sorry for myself, to boot.

Yesterday, though, I gave some thought to what I’d advise someone else if they presented this problem to me. I’d have asked them if they were positive they wanted to go back to school, in this particular program. And if they said yes, I’d have told them to do everything they could to make it happen.

So I wrote an email to the admissions department of the college and asked if I could include a personal letter along with my application, explaining why my university marks were so abysmal and what had changed, in the past decade+, to make admitting me less of a risk.

This morning I got a reply that they would look only at my high school marks for admissions (which I know were all in the 80%+ range, since that’s how I got my scholarship to university) and that they’d only consider my university marks as “additional credits” if I chose to apply them later.

They told me not to worry.

!!!!!!!

As long as they get my high school transcripts ASAP, there’s a very good chance I’ll be accepted to start in September.

No guarantees. But.. I’m leaping around anyway.

If I’m accepted, I’ll tell you all about it.

(And I may just put that “College Fund!” donation jar up!)