acceptance week.

Or, if you’re a cup half empty sort of person, rejection week.

Just a few thoughts:

• I kind of wish I’d applied to a few California schools. Except… not really, because that’s OD far from home and I’m not really as self sufficient as I wish I was. Also, I’m a poor ass mofo and no parental backup would kick my ass.
• This is what I get for being a lazy sack of Japanese mushrooms. (Am I being lame? I feel like I’m mostly lame. Yeah.)
• At least I’m going into this knowing that I can transfer if I am completely miserable at the end of first semester. And it would be TOTALLY OKAY since I’d be going to school for just about free if I go to my safety. If my high school has taught me anything, it’s get out while you can.
• I actually feel good about all that self sabotage I did while I was supposed to be filling out applications. It turns out, I really don’t care anyway. Ha. I commend myself.

Hope you got into your schools. And if you didn’t, suck it up. It really doesn’t matter.

diseased

I think I have some sort of disease. Maybe a syndrome, more so. It’s called anti-senioritis. Or maybe it’s just post senioritis. As strange and paradoxical as it sounds, I’m willing to do more work as a second term senior than as a first term senior. This boggles my mind. Absolutely boggles it. This is also probably another way my self destruction tendency manifests itself. Just to screw with me, my subconscious likes to make me do the wrong thing at the wrong time. I’m a clever one, really.

In other news, it’s Chinese New Year. And even as fake-Asian as I am, I still get gobs of money thrown at me for doing a little bowing and scraping. Then I happily trot off to spend it on things I can (legally, if not healthily) shove in my mouth. And office supplies. Staples sent my mom a beautiful coupon, which means I can buy that set of 10 liquid highlighters that I have no real need for, but compulsively need to purchase.

head meets wall

The last week of classes. Usually a time of much rejoicing as in the normal course of things we don’t do anything. Except, somehow, this week is turning out to be the worst week to ever be in the last 3 1/2 years of high school. I’ve heard two accounts of it being Hell Week. There are in class finals and term papers and term projects due every day this week. The last ditch effort at finding a college that will accept you is tomorrow.

And to what end? I’ve watched my grades sink like a stone this term. I’ve endured misery and frustration and sheer terror and I’ve been unspeakably lazy. But who cares? I just want to get out of here.

Yeah, I’m a bitter whiner. I know. Nobody else can bitterly out-whine me. At least it’s a title.

the most wonderful time of the year

“So… what did you do over the break?”

“Oh, you know, I watched TV and slept… and did college apps.”

“I applied to college.”

“I went away for a few days… and then I did my college apps.”

“Slept. Ate. Watched some movies. College apps.”

“College apps. It sucked.”

“I caught up on my sleep and I applied to college.”

“I started my term paper and I finished my college apps.”

“Oh, it was cool. I got a lot of sleep and just kind of vegetated. Oh! And I hung out with some of the kids who got into my school too. It was pretty fun. And I started some of my projec–”

And then I bitch slapped her and ran away crying “I hate you!” as I tried to stop the tears with my hands.

Okay, so I was just kidding. I didn’t slap anyone. I didn’t cry. I didn’t utter the words “I hate you” all day. Be proud of me. I mean, I think I deserve a gold star.

no dice

No, I didn’t get in. It sucks. I know. There are better schools out there for me. I know. It’s ridiculous. I know. Thanks. Intellectually, I know all of that. I know that I could probably think and write circles around most people that did get in. (That’s my general world view. My superiority complex is slightly larger than Canada. In fact, I probably think that I’m better than you.) But I still feel like shit.

And, preemptively, I would like to thank everyone who might offer words of comfort and support. But really, the best thing you could do is just not talk to me about it. At least, you know, not until April. Or maybe next December. As much as I can objectively think about this and realize that I have more important things to think about, I still can’t really trust myself to not break out crying right now.

Expect a more revealing post later on. If there’s any sort of silver lining, it’s that this blog gets to go on.  I do enjoy this blog. Go promote it for me to make me feel better.

the end?

It’s weird to think that at this very moment my college acceptance/rejection is hurtling towards my mailbox. Okay, maybe not quite hurtling. More like getting pushed along at a brisk pace with a ton of other mail. The brave USPS worker battling through wind and snow, wondering, “Why did I ever take this God-forsaken job? Was it maybe to deliver important news such as college letters? Or was it my calling to support physical spam?”

You can tell I’m scared because I’m making up stupid things that a mailperson (politically correct!) would never say. Except maybe the part about the God-forsaken job. I know I would say that if I was a mailperson.

But anyway. It would be the one day I want to get home as soon as possible, I have to stay in school for an extra couple of hours. It figures. Maybe it’s a sign. Like, maybe God is telling me that I don’t want to go home and read about my rejection which would inevitably depress me, so he’s stalling me here in school. Or maybe it’s a good sign, like He’s saying, “The best things are worth waiting for!” I’m babbling. Okay. So I sit here, torn between calling my dad and having him rip it open the moment he gets it to call me and let me know or getting to be the first one to know by opening it myself.

Why, why, a million times why, can’t The School just do it over the internet???

typo

So… my mother just pointed out that Application has been spelled wrong this whole time. And I never noticed! I’ve had this blog since August and I never noticed the title had a typo. Well… I always said I was an idiot.

So, humblest apologies if that offended you. It’s all in the past now.

neener neener

I had a dream last night about getting accepted to The School. I came home from whatever it was I was doing on December 8th (not December 15th, but a whole week early!) and found a package from The School informing me that I was accepted. Except, it was one of those times where you don’t know that it was a dream. It feels like it’s actually happening. So then I woke up for school and forgot that I even had the dream.

And then… and then on the way to school, I remembered. And it sucked. Because it’s still November and it’s raining and I’m still obligated to walk into this place called school every morning for the next 7 months. (Closer to 5 or 6 with holidays, but still.)

Just my subconscious’s way of taunting me. Thanks for that, subconscious. Really.

nausea

Is it bad at this point if imagining life post ED rejection makes me feel slightly nauseous? The consequences of getting rejected aren’t really that dire. I’ll have to fill out a ton of applications, but it’s not the end of the world. The most upsetting part would be all the dashed hopes and anticipation. I really am looking forward to being able to go to The School and be a part of that community. All the little traditions and idiosyncrasies unique to The School– I would be upset that I wouldn’t be a part of that, that all the pictures I have in my head would never happen. It would be a whole new level of crushing disappointment.

(Okay. This sounds really bad. Even worse now that I’ve actually articulated it in words. Let’s cut the drama with some selfish-sounding teenage speak.)

All that and that fact that I totally need to know that I have an escape route from this house and my parents. Ugh! It’s always check this for grammar or help me edit that. Um, hello? You’re like a zillion years older than I am and you can’t do this yourself? I totally have better things to do.

why, hello there.

Hello, Early Decision school! (You’ll understand if I don’t specifically name you. Privacy reasons and all that.) I’ll bet that you can see what a glowing and effervescent personality I have. If you’d like to direct any of the acceptance packets my way, feel free. It would make my day. Actually, it would probably make the last 17 years of toil worthwhile on a whole different level.

As for the rest of you. Why are you giving a shoutout?, you might ask. You can’t possibly be that paranoid that the college will actually look for your blog, especially since there’s no mention of a name. But you would be wrong. No, I have actually provided this fine institute of higher learning with a link to my blogs.

Now, now, hold back your gasps of surprise. Why would I ever do that, you ask, when most people endeavor to hide their blogs? I rationalize it this way: if the whole point of a college application is to give them a clear view of who you are as a person, why should I try to cover anything up? At worst, they think I’m an irritating twit and won’t accept me. At least I know I’ve done everything humanly possible to show them who I am, and if their conclusion is that I’m an irritating twit, then so be it. I can accept that, as I can personally attest to the fact that I’m an irritating twit. (The first step is acceptance. Or something like that.)

But I digress.

The point is, show them who you really are. If they don’t like it, then it probably isn’t the school you want to be in anyway.

(Hey, ED school, did you get a load of that? I’m glowing, effervescent and wise. Neat, huh?)