Blind leading the blind

I just found out from reading the comments on this article that not waiving your right to access academic information, including your teacher recommendations, means you get to read them before they're sent.

That sounds pretty bad, as if I meant to read each recommendation before it was sent. Actually, I didn't get to read any of the recommendations, nor have any reason to. I simply chose not to waive my right to access the recommendations because, well, I'd like to know why they weren't as strong or were strong after I received my decisions for the school.

It's a little late to change it now; I've already sent out most of my applications. So for any of those wonderful admissions officers who might be reading this blog: Please refrain from assuming that I combed through my recommendations and inserted superlatives like sprinkles. I honestly didn't read any of them; I trusted the teachers and just didn't want to waive rights in case of something terrible. I simply don't like waiving my rights to things that I was given the rights to in the first place.

I guess I just feel kind of lost in this whole process of admissions, because my parents are fairly inexperienced in the process of American college applications. Hence, the title of this post. I'd like to ask others for help, but there's a certain bit of privacy that comes with applications as well, and it probably won't surprise you that, even though my parents are very liberal for Asian parents, they still insist on a certain degree of discretion when talking about college to people who are prospective competitors. Though I still don't know of any Helenas who want to make robots and study engineering and cook and write and draw and sew and experiment and talk and people watch and teach and read as much as I do.

In other news, this article is rather interesting, particularly the slide about science and engineering, the field I hope to enter (and stay in). Kind of sobering, but also still a source of motivation. I just asked my friend sitting next to me, who agrees that I don't "act like a man", but I admit to feeling some pressure every now and then, usually a passing suggestion to "get a guy to do it for you" or something of that nature. I'm determined to break the mold; I'll show the world that it's entirely possible, and almost normal, to be smart, capable, and feminine at the same time. Or if not the world, at least those who work with me. So a cliched shot of confidence (from fellow blog Book Calendar):