So as of this weekend, I have officially completed the applications to seven universities! Now I only have ten more to go! Forgive my lack of enthusiasm.
What's even more interesting is my descending level of confidence in my applications. I was struck a few nights ago by how small I seemed in the face of the larger scheme of college admissions. Here was a girl who was fairly unremarkable compared to Siemens competition winners or National ________ champions. How am I supposed to put all of the reasons I have friends into a single essay?
I can't talk about how much I love to design clothing, knit, and sew, and I've already made my love of cooking the centerpiece of my common application essay. But the admissions readers can't taste the subtle earthy creaminess in my asparagus pesto, or the bursting tart gems of pomegranate against sandy soft apple pears, baked in a flaky package of phyllo and spiced with cinnamon and brown sugar. They don't know the pains I take to adjust each recipe for my prospective audience, just as I try to portray the characteristics of myself best suited to their school in each of my applications.
They can't see that I know more nerdy jokes than pickup lines, though there is some overlap between the two categories. They don't know that I'm addicted to webcomics and read over 20 series on a regular basis. They don't know that I used to hate reading so much that I read to chapter 2 of Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone and quit, only to pick it up again out of boredom after moving to South Carolina and realizing that no, I wasn't supposed to finish any assignment in a timely manner and actually get all of it right. They don't know how I struggled to find motivation under the rules of "No Child Left Behind", which my mother and her friends called "No Child Going Forwards". They don't know that I read nearly the entire school library in fifth grade and resorted to reading the parental-permission-only books as the only section I had not read (I became rather scarred for life by Briar Rose and its horrific depictions of the Holocaust). They don't know that I don't like competing harshly, because all of my competitors have eventually become my good friends. They don't know that I am applying to all of the toughest schools because I know I can thrive under pressure and motivate myself to excel no matter the situation and surroundings. They don't know that the part of college I am most intimidated about is the admissions process; I can't control whether I'll get in once the application is sent. Staying in and staying up is the easy part compared to getting in; I can control the quality of my work and the balance between working hard and playing hard.
They don't know that I can come up with song lyrics for any situation.They don't know that I can strike up conversation with five-year-olds or philosophers. They don't know that I make fun of my own shy little asian girl appearance but will agree to an arm wrestling match or dance off at a moment's notice. They don't know that I'm talkative, always eager to help, and full of smiles and laughter, despite my ripped jeans, corset, and punky accessories. They don't know that I love to sing and play piano at the same time outside of my intense performances of Russian piano literature, or the way I enjoy the mellow vibrations of a viola being played under my chin. They don't know that it's so hard for me to pick a topic for an essay, because there are simply so many things that I am passionate about. I'm constantly high on life, on all of the possibilities and intersecting realities. And it's just so hard to make them see this in a mere set of essays, an hour-long interview, and recommendations I cannot control.
It's hardest to accept the fact that I will never be able to let them see how much I want to go to their school. For my top choices, and they know who they are, I would give an arm or leg (which is pretty valuable, in terms of all the things I love to do with them) to have to opportunity to spend four years of my life as a student there, learning and living in such rich environments with meaningful knowledge, relationships, and developments. But this assertion makes a rather weak essay. I can't express that feeling of want; it's just a dull ache in my heart that throbs whenever I consider how small my chances are of being accepted. I know I belong at these places; it's just a question of whether I can open those barbed, wrought iron gates that bear the crest that I long to wear.
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On a completely unrelated note, my current homework cram is something called our Group Four project, or, as our school dialect tends to pronounce, Group Foh'. IB splits the subjects into groups, and science (biology and chemistry for us) is group four. As a result, our project was to survey various areas of land for abiotic factors and biotic specimens, and draw correlations between the two. Our group chose to survey areas in a river and the surrounding land, as opposed to other groups surveying land.
As the designer for our group, I was responsible for creating the powerpoint presentation we would present as a group for a major grade. However, I ended up doing many of the tests as well. I find it hard to trust others to perform quality work, especially if I am aware of their usual work ethic. I've gotten better at distributing tasks to keep everyone busy, but I have a tendency to keep the most important tasks under my supervision and attention. Thus, I chose to take the position as designer rather than manager in our group of four students: I wanted to be able to have full control over the creation of the powerpoint that would be so crucial to our grade.
So the presentations are due tonight, and I just found out that the peson in our group responsible for taking pictures is unable to connect her camera to the computer. I have taken the camera and will search for a cable at home, purchasing one if necessary. And that is sufficient proof for today's episode of "Why Helena Likes To Get Everything Important Done By Herself To Decrease Precarious Dependency On Others."
I am reminded of a line from Atlas Shrugged, my favorite book: "She would not descend to an existence where her brain would explode under the pressure of forcing itself not to outdistance incompetence." The "she", of course, is Dagny Taggart, a woman who I admire greatly. I'm sick and tired of people complaining that they are incapable because they are sick and tired. I'm looking to go somewhere where I will not be limited by the unmotivated while trying to solve their very problems. I'm looking to get in to those universities that I know will let me experience that. I just only wish I could let them know that they need me as much as I need them.
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