Application Essay - Draft #1

SWF seeks graduate program for intellectual development, personal growth, and candlelit picnics on red-checkered tablecloths (Oh, and an MFA). Broke with my first love (DU) with a BA in '02 but am ready to give my heart again. Must enjoy passionate discussions, constructive criticism and the whole, wide world of words and wit and wonder. Excellent vocabulary and respect for double entendre a plus. Valid Poetic License a necessity.
Me. 26. A graduate of the University of Denver and resident of the world, America, Arizona, Maricopa County, Phoenix, second apartment on the right. Look for the Chinese Market: non-beheaded fish and 366 types of tea. Because there should be a tea for everyday, even in leap years. Turn Right. Yup. Right, right there.
I love Sudoku but not math, hiking but not running and Steinbeck, Cisneros, Morrison, Bukowski, and Amy Bender. I love pocketing $8 from friends by making a queen-high, spade flush on the last hand. I hate hearing about certain specifics "looking good on my resume" because the only thing on that piece of paper that will take me where I crave to go is the addition of some all-important letters--M, F and A. Give me a P, H, with a little 'ole d, someday. My yoga sticky mat is my best friend. I feed a cold and a fever. I feed everything and everyone with fresh herbs, soy protien and love. I like to write evolving sentences, with endless commas, that spin a thought away from itself by degrees with the force of free association, like dominos, like true thought. Or at least, my thought, whose train might not cross tracks with anyone else's. Where each one is a catalyst, each thought birthing another and another until unconsiousness takes thought's place and, BOOM, you're dreaming. I've been told that I have an excellent telephone voice and a lot of literary potential. I like to the think that both are true.
Goals. To integrate more folate, calcium and stout beer into my diet. To quit my day job. Cure breast cancer. Sit in one of the stuffy, fluffy chairs at a national book store and hold my name in my hand. To mortar letter to letter and word to word, inserting puctuation in mostly correct places, and to frost it all with a cover and buttercream roses. Make a souffle. Sing in a slinky dress while perched on a piano. To become a rebel without a genre, subverting everything I lay pen to, be it a predictable metaphor, a standard trope, or a social norm. To teach. Oh, to be immersed in the dynamic, bubbling, naive world of the college student forever with their pourous world views and burning sense of purpose. Contributing to the life of the mind and a life of learning.
SWF seeks graduate school, for third consecutive year, that will deign to take her money and change her life. Sprinkle some fairy dust and make my dreams come true. So, if you know anyone, well, hey, let me know. Okay?