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[14 Apr 2003|03:55pm] |
Late yet unfinished English essay
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[02 Apr 2003|10:23pm] |
Yeah, so after five minutes of thinking and two days of getting used to the idea, I am set on Hamilton college.
This is how it went.
I got into SUNY Geneseo and Binghamton (no surprise there, if you'll forgive my arrogance) and also Stonybrook, even though I never actually mailed in my supplement. This was no reassurance to me though, as I didn't really want to go to any of those places.
Then I got into Union college, my liberal arts safety. This is nice, except for the financial aid, which is minimal. I am expected to pay $30,000. Thus, this acceptance does not even count.
The next day I heard from Bates and Colby. Bates waitlisted me (the audacity!) and Colby accepted, but again, $30,000 is expected. That two colleges gave the same stinky offer led me to think that all colleges I was accepted into would do the same, which would be a disaster. Sorry Lena, but the SUNY's are just too big for me. I really wanted to go to a little selective liberal arts college. And it was beginning to look like that was an impossiblity.
Panic-stricken and depressed, I didn't get out of bed until the mailman came the next day. He brought a little envelope and a big one. The little one was Swarthmore, which out-right rejected me in the most impolite terms ("This letter is to inform you that you have not recieved a place in our class of 2007", was the first sentence). The big one was from Hamilton - it was an acceptance obviously, but more importantly, it contained a decent financial aid offer. I knew I was going to be okay.
Bowdoin and Middlebury both informed me in gentle tones that though I was completely qualified to be their classes, there simply weren't enough seats to go around, and I had thus been waitlisted. But that was okay, because I had Hamilton.
I decided that I didn't really want to bother with the stress of waitlisting, and doubted that I would get a better financial aid offer, so I think I'll just be going to Hamilton then.
Hamilton was one of the less selective of the colleges I applied to (that I actually wanted to attend), but this year I'm lucky to have gotten into anywhere! It's absolutely insane how many applicants there were this year. I know a lot of people who aren't even getting into their safetys. I have numbers to illustrate this:
Last year, Princeton accepted 11% of it's applicants, Bowdoin accepted 32%, and Hamilton accepted 39%.
This year, Bowdoin accepted 10%, Hamilton accepted 10.5%, and if Princeton experienced a similar drop, then it accepted -14%.
My guidance counselor says many colleges' SAT middle ranges have jumped 100 points.
Insane!
If these had been the numbers on which I based my application decisions, then I would not have applied to any of the schools I did. I would have considered them all out of my reach. And yet, by some stroke of luck, I got into a couple. How fabulous!
So Hamilton it is.
I'm not euphoric. I don't know why. Though I realize I am incredible lucky to have gotten into a school I liked in such a competitive year, I still think of it as one of my lower rung schools. Oh, but there's so much to like about it. I'm sure that as soon as I get used to the idea, I'll be much happier.
Hope everyone else's admissions go okay.
If they don't, don't take it personally.
This year, there are so many qualified applicants for so few spots, that all a rejection letter means is that you were "miney" instead of "mo".
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| Pompous and trite, the usual. But long! |
[05 Mar 2003|11:04pm] |
I have a theory that humans are like navigators all struggling individually across an endless plain towards the same point of enlightenment. This image can be expanded in many directions; one may dwell on the effect our starting points have on our paths, or the conflict and co-operation possible between navigators, or any other detail. I focus, however, on the instruments we all use in our pilgrimage. What do we choose as our compass? Religion? Science? Financial success? And what of the tools we use in surveying this world? The telescope's compound lens filters our vision two ways; everything we see passes first through the lens shaped by our true self, then through the lens shaped by our experiences. Thus in order to discern any of the truth in the world, we must understand our intrinsic and learned natures in order to perceive reality without their distortion.
With this idea in mind I took to heart the message "Know Thyself". But there was no Oracle of Delphi for me to go to, nor any person on earth who could explain to me my own self. Thus the task was mine alone, and as my form of divination I turned to a method in which my faith was absolute. Through the scientific method my ignorance would be thwarted by the force of slow, meticulous, and utterly invincible logic. Though never written down, my queries usually went something like this:
Question: Why do I remember and relive moments of stupidity so vividly?
Hypotheses:
(1) A clear recollection of mistakes serves the evolutionary advantage of preventing the repetition of potentially fatal errors.
(2) My ego is reliant on my perception of myself as intelligent and thus moments of stupidity are particularly damaging.
(3) Having been mocked ceaselessly as a child for occasional slips, embarrassing moments recall years of derision.
(4) I regard as stupidity as a sin and have not forgiven myself for transgressing.
In reality I came up with many more hypotheses (surprisingly, the creative step of the scientific method is the easiest; the potential amount of hypotheses is usually infinite, if you allow the absurd) and thus was feeling quite pleased with myself until I realized that I had no way of conducting any formal experiments. Science requires a controlled environment, and my mind and the world provided no possibility of one. I was crippled, stripped of the ability to achieve objective truth, my powers reduced to pure reasoning without factual evidence. Thus the only experimentation I could do was of the following sort:
Elimination of Hypotheses by Logic:
(1) There is probably a grain of truth in this, but it is insufficient as I most often repeat the experiences I most regret.
(2) This sounds plausible, but I would need to observe other possible connections between ego and intelligence in order to verify it.
(3) This one seems awfully psychoanalytical, but I can devise no way of disproving it.
(4)This is the most far-fetched, but may be supported by the fact that I often blurt out "I'm sorry" when remembering an instance of idiocy. This support is hardly proof, however; I have also been heard to blurt out "Beenies!".
Pretty pitiful, eh? I didn't even completely disprove a single hypothesis. The only way to achieve any sort of result was to invent lists of hypothesis for hundreds of self-analytical questions and assume that the most commonly occurring ones were true on some level. My pure logic had become a matter of probability. The only conclusion I could draw was that I had failed.
Yet, I persisted. After analyzing many aspects of myself I did find some hypotheses that cropped up quite often. I am in the process of verifying my hypotheses (2) as at least a definite part of the problem. A sea of theoretical data is yielding some success. But most things could go several ways, and there is a price to pay for using the roundabout method. Firstly, nothing can ever be certain, and secondly, everything must always be scrutinized. But worst of all, the more I learn the more I learn there is I don't know.
It's come to the point where I just want someone to tell me who I am, to reveal the subtle patterns that I am staring at to closely to see. I feel like an agnostic, who, feeling that his life was empty, began to search in vain for empirical evidence of God, and, finding the task impossible, prayed for the first time to ask for some inspiration that would show him his words did indeed pass through the ceiling. But such entreaties may never be answered. There is no way to circumvent the labor to find our own answers. Perhaps the answers are in the labor itself, in how we conduct the search. I really don't know. I don't really know anything, not about myself, or god, or humanity, or even my own immediate family members. I don't know how I ever will, the way things are going; I think I'll never have a real truth, just thousands and thousands of hypotheses. But I guess that's how it has to be. The distortion can never be subtracted. The lens that affects our view of the world also affects our view of the lens itself. Thus we are trapped forever in uncertainty, never able to see things for what they are.
But that's just a theory.
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| No apologies about my infrequent posts, I'll get straight to the point. |
[27 Feb 2003|08:44pm] |
Mr. Tomanelli told the best story today:
One day, he says, when he taught in an elementary school, a new girl came into his class, ten years old and very quiet. She never said a word without being called upon, and when asked to answer a question, she would respond succinctly and then promptly return to her attentive but tacit state. Several weeks passed without anything eventful happening, until one day, Mr. Tomanelli brought up the topic of Titan.
Titan, he said, was a desolate place, large as the Earth, yes, but not so welcoming. Titan was an oversized rock flung too far from the sun, exiled to an orbit around the beautiful but cold Saturn. No life could exist there, except perhaps microbial life, and if any surfaced it would faced a life of hardship and suffering. An inhabitable and undesirable place, Titan was.
Suddenly, without following the convention of raising one's hand, the silent little girl sitting near the back challenged his assertion with surprising articulation.
"You speak of things which you know nothing of," she said. "A planet's worth lies not in its distance from a sun; the joy of the universe does not emanate from a single point. Do not presume to judge those things beyond the realm of your vision. Distant Titan, which you, ignorant, would cast aside, is the fairest jewel of the galaxy."
Dumfounded, Mr. Tomanelli did not reply.
The next day, she was absent
And the next.
And the next.
Mr. Tomanelli eventually inquired as to what had happened to the extraordinary girl. He was told her family had moved. They moved around a lot apparently.
So he never heard about her again.
I don't much believe Mr. Tomanelli any more.
But I still thought that was a great story.
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[13 Jan 2003|11:04pm] |
College applications are really really tedious.
But I was so hyper today I didn't care.
Yay!
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[13 Jan 2003|02:09am] |
I hate economics.
And I smell like fish.
But my essay is done.
( Read more... )
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[12 Jan 2003|01:03am] |
Oh god, I don't want to write about this.
But I'm masochistic.
::sigh::
Today was the Brooklyn Wassail. A real wassail. Perfect.
But I didn't go. I stayed home to do 1000 college essays.
I stayed home while my whole family went out.
All day.
No one to distract me from work.
But I went online.
And read comics.
And played games.
And made Ramen noodles.
And then worked a little little bit on essays.
I did two.
They are crappy.
Now it is late.
This is the only time I have for sleep.
And I am writing this.
I can't believe this is who I am. I have lost all concept of the value of time. I just waste it waste it waste it and then when there is nothing left I accept it as though it was not something I could have prevented.
Why the heck does everyone think I'm so smart?
If any college accepts me it reflects poorly on them
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[08 Jan 2003|09:57pm] |
This is so awesome - its a site that searches for your name on Google and puts up the results in these short little phrases. So this is all what people are saying about me (or other Alisons) on their websites. I didn't make any of these up, I swear, although I have reorganized them. Try it out yourself at www.googlism.com
alison is the subject of this fine retrospective
alison is a scary individual
alison is a mystic in the great tradition of sufism
alison is discovered by the paparazzi
alison is examining everything
alison is allergic to chocolate and ate her last mars bar in 1980
alison is first lady of the sky
alison is tipped
alison is evicted
alison is described as young and wild
alison is living proof that you can't judge a book by its cover
alison is seriously pissed off and needs cheering up
alison is up for it
alison is given a pipe bowl which once belonged to the micmac indians
alison is surely one now
alison is a wicked character
alison is not suiting up
alison is clearing out her closet
alison is now wearing a golden satin dress with sequin adornments along the collar
alison is seen wearing those horrible white "keds" with her blue jeans
alison is using state funds
alison is currently lobbying for a new system by which staff would be able to choose a certain number of books for each decade that they had been alive
alison is under the stress of applying for her major
alison is originally a graduate of biological sciences
alison is the latest addition to the school of nursing and midwifery
alison is likely to be a neuroscience concentrator at brown
alison is a fine art degree graduate from manchester metropolitan university in england
alison is currently responsible for the following lecture schedules
alison is having trouble fitting in at college
alison is originally from willoughby ohio and a graduate of eastern michigan university
alison is always very busy
alison is responsible for a myriad of duties
alison is 100% committed to insuring that her services meet your needs
alison is also a brilliant composer and a vibrant and innovative performer
alison is an international artist who performs in cathedrals and churches worldwide
alison is recording a new album and touring with her band
alison is one of very few specialist classical mandolin players
alison is one of the greatest voices in bluegrass
alison is in demand as a jazz vocalist
alison is noted for both architecture and interior
alison is a recognised authority on environmental communications
alison is a published author and professional astrologer with around twenty years of experience in astrology
alison is a senior principal research scientist
alison is a partner in an airline freight business
alison is featured in the November issue of seventeen magazine
alison is now the lead singer of rock band
alison is observed by lord richland
alison is my girlfriend
alison is the model going to bermuda with jack
alison is in a bad mood
alison is devastated
alison is the second smallest one in the litter
alison is either infuriated by her or nice about her
alison is great
alison is an extremely gifted and committed individual
alison is cool; she waits for us
alison is a great book to read if you're 10
alison is wonderfully supportive and immensely instructive
alison is tall and slim
alison is thrilled with the beauty and diversity of the minnesota?s landscape
alison is able to take a highly technical topic and present it understandably
alison is constantly seeking her inner wisdom and compelling all whom she touches to do the same
alison is known for her strong work ethic
alison is available to offer advice on her areas of expertise when requested
alison is fresh
alison is a woman with many talents
alison is enthusiastic
alison is a natural choice for this honor
alison is passionate about teaching people to live more fulfilled
alison is literally one of utah's finest treasures
alison is the bomb
alison is quite happy with the comparison
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[07 Jan 2003|12:44pm] |
Apparently I have become renowned for my ghettoness.
There are sarcastic people in this school.
Anyway, school is horribible.
I have so much homework that I didn't know about.
Gar.
And my Middlebury application is late.
And I fell asleep in Religion class and missed a debate about Iraq.
Boo.
I just want to go home
and sleep
and be very happy.
On a bright note, I finished my Middlebury and Colby essays.
And Elizabeth wrote me the most charming personal recommendation.
So life goes on.
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[01 Jan 2003|02:09pm] |
Ah, good old sleep.
Actually, what pulled me out of the rut was reason.
Nothing really went wrong with Swarthmore, all I needed to do for Bates was send a letter telling them to disregard my accidentally sent supplement, and the Bowdoin supplement I'll just have to send by regular mail. It may be late, but at least the Common App went through...
Anyway, I reassured myself by concocting a plan of action and executing it.
Ha ha, Execute, that was a pokemon...
See? A better mood indeed.
I'm still not a fan of New Year's Eve though.
There are no traditions, no celebration other than getting drunk and watching the ball fall. In Hawaii they have a wonderful ceremony, with traditional foods and things. But I wouldn't move to Hawaii just for that.
My brother goes back to school tommorow and I don't! Ha! How much fun it is to gloat!
Anyway, how was everyone's Christmas?
Mine was blah. I never really got into the spirit, and I didn't really get much of what I wanted.
I did get a sewing machine though. I've been thinking for a while how cool it would be to make my own clothing. For so long I've dismissed anything to do with clothing as superficial to the point of being immoral, but if I made my own it would be a creative expression that's visible to anyone you see. I've un-demonized an interest in attire. So long as you're not just wearing what everyone else is. That's still evil. Unless it's what you naturally like. Which I doubt.
Anyway, now that my college application frenzy is past I can enjoy what's left of my vacation. I think I'll squander it on Tropico. Viva La Presidente!
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[01 Jan 2003|12:29am] |
And thus as the new year was born, a journal rose from the ashes.
I am back, with all the whining and self deprecation you were doing so well without.
And it just so happens I have a fresh load of crap to unload.
A new year, a new number to memorize, but nothing new in my life.
Blah.
I have a bunch of New Year's Resolutions. I wonder if I'll keep any of them.
#1: Hate myself less (blew it already)
#2: Don't Procrastinate (fat chance)
#3: Start writing on livejournal again (score!)
#4: Spend at least two hours per week on some art project
#5: Stop cursing (I've started to pick up the habit)
And there are others. But I can't remember. And I couldn't keep them anyway.
Geez, I'm starting the year on a pessimistic note.
Well, New Year's Eve is typically bad for me. It's my Friday the thirteenth.
The first thing I did in 2000 was vomit.
This year I wrecked my college applications, and what I did succeed at, the computer wrecked.
It feels hopeless. Why would a college let me in if I'm too much of a moron to get the application in correctly?
This isn't making me feel better.
I'll go to bed.
When I'm asleep I don't know how much of a screw up I am.
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[13 Dec 2002|09:33am] |
I thought I was going to let this journal die, but I just thought I might mention that tonight is the opening night for the Christmas Revels, so wish me luck.
I'm not being self serving at all...
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[05 Dec 2002|01:19pm] |
In case you didn't know...
IT IS SNOWING!!!
Why am I inside?
Goodbye.
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[02 Dec 2002|12:09am] |
No, I'm not dead, just no longer committed to posting without quality.
Anyway, here is my common application essay, due to be sent to seven colleges.
I've been working on it for nearly two weeks and I'm still not satisfied.
I can't get it down to 500 words.
Anyway, I am satisfied with it enough to release it to the public.
PLEASE comment. Tell me how much it sucks, and why. I need to know.
( Read more... )
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| I sing of tests and of the girl; who, driven by boredom... |
[02 Nov 2002|10:51pm] |
At first light having waked,
grumpy and apprehensive on account of the tests,
which,
though unprepared and plentiful in fear I was commanded to take,
the trek to the test center as well as the writing SAT II,
with it's fearsome essay twenty minutes and length,
and that of the literature,
though the outcome of these,
on account of a lack of predictability,
I will not venture to guess,
by me dutifully were completed,
and afterwards,
briefly having rested,
and of snacks,
mostly candy from Halloween's remaining bounty,
partaken,
in the apartment between the streets of fifth and sixth,
having walked there,
the young girl by silly word problems,
concerning goldfish,
algebra I explained,
and,
having money earned and in pocket placed,
for home bound,
but at Barnes and Nobles stopping,
for the purpose of more from Baudolino,
written by Umberto Eco,
reading,
and for a greater reason,
though,
while this is how a great amount of time was spent,
in practicality The Aeneid,
by Virgil,
that great poet who in Latin very slowly wrote,
needed to purchase,
by the order by Mrs. Perone long ago given,
which though less enjoyable I found,
my reading of it the amusing result had of this serpentine and illiterate,
by standards of English,
sentence causing me to write.
That which this morning would have caused me to cry has become a source of laughter.
How happy a shift in perception can be!
At least to those who delight in the illogic of Latin.
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[28 Oct 2002|04:31pm] |
Life is boring and I am busy.
No posting allowed.
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[17 Oct 2002|03:32pm] |
Kill me. Kill me now. That way I won't have to live with the knowledge that I just wasted an hour and a half in which I was supposed to be doing my economics report - which was due last week!
RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!
Kill me!
Quick!
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[17 Oct 2002|06:14am] |
I feel guilty - I haven't posted for so long and when I do it's just to put up another essay.
Sorry.
I'll post for real soon.
This is an economics essay due last week.
It's still not even half done.
But at least I've been working!
As always - don't read.
This isn't for you, it's for me.
( Read more... )
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[13 Oct 2002|07:25am] |
Happy Sunday, everyone - Did the SAT go well for all those who took it?
I was so surprised by my score last time that this time I'm trying not to make any predictions.
Anyhoo, this weekend I'm going away to visit colleges - in MAINE!
I'm seeing Middlebury, Colby, and Bates.
Should be beautiful in the fall...
Anyway, I'm not getting home until midnight on Tuesday.
(And I still haven't done my economics essay!)
Well, see you on Wednesday!
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[11 Oct 2002|10:17am] |
Sick again today.
This is a message for Tracy (or anyone at DA who happens to read it, I guess).
( Read more... )
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alittleunstable's journal