Get cover note, then notarized copy, then graduation certificate, then transcript (“Ninth, tenth, eleventh, twlefth- ok.”), then letter (“This one is two letters… This is also with councillor recommendation.”), then graduation from honors program, then essays if needed, then stick it all in an envelope. Then repeat. And again, and again, and again.

Endless repeat of the same thing, endlessly dreary, endlessly pointless feeling. Only it was all done with a smile on my lips and a song in my heart, because I was almost done, so close to the ending of this long, intense, difficult, stressful period of applications to colleges. And now it’s done.

I cannot muster the strength to think about it anymore tonight. As it is, I feel my dreams will be full of addressing envelopes and struggeling with online applications. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s all behind me now. Tomrrow the applications will be sent and I won’t have to think about them until I begin to get my rejection and/or acceptance letters. I’ve done the best I could, and now, with a sigh of relief so loud and strong that I believe my screen was a bit buffeted, I shall climb into bed, read a book, and fall into an exhausted, pleased sleep.

Sweet Relief – and Some Zombies

I just finished my application for the University of California schools. Meaning three campuses, three schools really. UCLA, Berkeley and Santa-Cruz. The application process was long and grueling, confusing and upsetting, disturbing and tiring and most of all FINISHED. It’s finished.

My brain feels so incredibly fried up and used and dried and broken and exhausted and strange and zombified. But at least I got this done. It’s a wonderful feeling, to have the weight of the first deadline off my mind. True, four down and still fifteen to go, but that’s something nonetheless.

In celebration, and laziness, a haiku to explain the way my head feels:

Zombies ate my brain,
Because zombies don’t eat trees,
Carnivorous swine.

Short Answer

I cannot truthfully say that I understand why the stage calls to me. Shy and timid for most of my girlhood, I nevertheless jumped at the opportunity to join a drama class of young girls and boys such as myself. I played my little heart out in costumes and masks, had fun inventing crazy and strange situations to place our heroic characters in, and had a merry time all around.

The first time I got to read lines though, was something I will always remember. It felt a little naughty, a little wrong, like reading a letter over someone’s shoulder. I knew, of course, that the playwright had put the words down on paper specifically so others would get to read and enact them, but still, I felt like I was prying.

It didn’t matter though. I loved it even though, or perhaps because, it felt a little wrong. I loved trying on someone else’s face, a face that wasn’t even partly mine, not like the characters I’d invented on my own. Trying to find reason and depth in the character’s words and actions – it thrilled me.

This was going to be my short answer for the common application. Since I wrote this, I have written two others that are shorter and that my mother thinks I should use. I decided to see what the verdict on this one was though, just out of curiosity. Hopefully, this sounds collegiate and well written, despite being short.