If you asked me a week ago, I would have said I wanted to go to Penn. Unequivocally.
Did I believe it?
Deep down, I have always wondered if I was ready to choose one path and stick with it yet. I don't think I'm cut for med school because I can't say, right here and right now, "I want to be a doctor. Nothing else." I can't do that. I have vague ideas, but nothing solid.
So why Penn?
Luckily, Penn deviated from its traditional "Why Penn?" essay two years ago. Now, it asks for specifics. The small things. I can say those, even if they may not be necessarily true. I made a journal of my future day at Penn and included all of the things I wanted to do.
But what would make me choose Penn over another school?
What would make me choose Chicago over another school?
Chicago's decisions come out tomorrow. I want to know, in a perverse, curious way. I do not care for the school—I applied because it was an early action choice and because it was in Chicago. I hold ties to places I have lived in before. The land calls out to me and stirs within me some sentimental frivolity. So I applied to Chicago.
Am I going to be accepted?
I want to know because I want a definite answer, because I don't want to wait, because it is so close. And while I was so calm going into Penn's decisions, I am strangely anxious. Is it because I have been deferred once? Or is it because I just want to be accepted by Chicago? If it is the former, why wasn't I nervous before, even though I knew I didn't really have a chance at Penn? If it is the latter, why do I want to be accepted to a school that attracts me only because of its location?
Am I lying to myself? Do I even know what I want?
Maybe on some subconscious level, I want Chicago for whatever reason I have long since forgotten. Returning to past lands is always a reason, but then I could apply to Northwestern and be even closer. Is there something else?
I don't know.
What would make me choose Chicago over another school? Or, more precisely, what would make me choose Chicago over McGill?
Is it because some stubborn, vain part of me does not wish to return to Canada, because it would seem like such a defeat, if I came out here for three years only to go back again. I am not applying to Toronto for that reason. I would feel so much regret I don't think I would be able to truly enjoy my first few months there.
So what about McGill?
What about McGill?
It is a good school. Has a program I really want (joint major in biology and mathematics). One of the best med school in Canada. In the beautiful city of Montreal. Lovely, lovely school. I can even practice my French there.
So what about McGill?
If I am accepted at Chicago, or anywhere else that is not in Canada, what will I do?
The knee-jerk reactions is, "I'll go there. I'm not going to McGill if I can go somewhere else."
Really? Is that what I want?
Chicago doesn't have an engineering school. But it does have a strong economics department. McGill is not best known for that—Queens is, UBC is. It is not best known for engineering either—Toronto is, Waterloo is.
So I guess it should come down to what I want to do with my life. Going back to the med school statement, I don't know if I can make a decision yet.
Should.
Why am I so eager to choose Chicago over McGill then?
Is Chicago that lovely? Yes, it is. Of course it is. Is that my only reason? No, it is not. It cannot possibly be the only reason.
Is it because I am afraid of the huge class sizes at McGill? Is it because I am afraid I will not be able to compete against so many people? Is it because I feel as though I deserve so much more than McGill?
Do I? Do I really? Do I even deserve McGill, or is it the more relaxed system towards US high school students?
This is all stupid. I will know if I am accepted, deferred, or rejected soon enough. Tomorrow. And then I can say what I will choose based on what I am given. But if I could choose any school, I don't know what the triggering factor is that would make me instantly pick Chicago over McGill.
Showing posts with label Penn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Penn. Show all posts
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
Not Enough Time
I am falling apart at the seams, save me, save me please?
I thought you said you didn’t need saving. Said you could save yourself.
That was before. This is now.
You’re not desperate enough.
[There are some dreams that cannot be salvaged. Because they never existed.]
The steps to 30 Reading Street was covered in filmy moss. When Katie climbed them she almost slipped, but years of subway-riding training gave her the quick reflexes to steady herself and keep on going.
“Careful there,” Nick said. He held out his hand, hovered behind her back.
“Don’t worry about me,” Katie said. “I’m fine.”
She reached over and pressed the doorbell. No sound came from inside, and Katie wondered if she should press it again, or knock on the door. Would it be too rude? She stared at her reflection in the glass.
Perfectly groomed hair. Make-up applied so seamlessly they were dreamy. A neat cardigan over a navy cotton dress and ballerina flats. Her appearance was so youthful and carefree she thought she could almost mask the haunted look in her eyes.
After a few minutes, the door creaked open. Amanda’s weary eyes replaced Katie’s from behind the glass.
“What do you want?” They both said at the same time.
“Am I that predictable?” Amanda asked, a half-smile on her face.
Katie returned it with more optimism than she thought she had. “It is partly my fault. I usually only call on you when I need something.”
“Well then. How are you?”
“Good, good. How are you? How is Nick?”
“He is good,” Amanda and Nick said at the same time. Except this time, Amanda did not react. Katie shot him a dark look before turning back to Amanda.
“I am glad to hear that. You are good too?”
“Yes,” Amanda said. “Yes, I am.”
They stood a while like that, in silence. Katie remotely remembered why she never called upon Amanda. She pulled up a smile again and said, “Want to go get coffee with me some afternoon? I have a really flexible schedule now, and I get most afternoons off.”
“You don’t have a schedule anymore,” Nick said. “You don’t even work anymore.”
Amanda said, “That sounds nice. I am free Wednesday afternoons, and Nick does not get home until late. It is nearing dinner-time today, so maybe next Wednesday?”
“Yes, that would be great,” Katie said. “Absolutely lovely.” Absolutely fucking lovely, but she managed to cut off the curse. Nick should be proud.
The conversation fell into another lull. This time, Amanda smiled. “No hard feelings?”
“No hard feelings,” Katie said.
None at all.
“Yes, no hard feelings,” Nick said, and laughed. That dry, hacking laugh. “Wish her a happy marriage. I dare you.”
“I hope you will be happy with Nick,” Katie said. “You two are perfect for each other.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said. “I was afraid—well, forgive me, but with your history with Nick, I was afraid that you might be upset at the news.”
“No, not at all. I am happy for you.”
“Well, thank you again. I hope you will come to the ceremony? I was going to ask you to be my bridesmaid, but Jessie really wanted—”
“That is not a problem,” Katie said. “I would hate to be so responsible anyway.”
“But the ceremony?”
“Yes, I will. I have to go now, but next Wednesday at Miguel’s café?”
“Of course.”
“Good bye.”
“Good bye.”
The door closed, and Katie was left with her reflection again. The hair still unruffled. The make-up pristine. Her outfit as cheerful and preppy as before. Her eyes just as hollow, but she was glad Amanda was not too perceptive.
Katie went down the steps, taking care not to slip on the moss again. She asked, “Why didn’t you clean this place up?”
“Not my problem,” Nick said. “Amanda can do it if she wanted.”
“She is your fiancée.”
“She is.”
“So what if she slips and falls? What if she gets hurt? You still won’t do it?”
“You were pretty gutsy back there,” Nick said. “I thought you wouldn’t have said it.”
“Don’t change the topic,” Katie said.
“I’m—”
A sky-blue car pulled up in the driveway in front of her. The door opened, and Nick stepped out. He just stood there, staring at Katie, and she could see something in his eyes that she often saw in her own.
“Hey, Nick,” she said.
“Katie,” Nick said. His voice did not have that sardonic tone anymore. It was more subdued, with an edge in it that made Katie’s throat contract. “What are you doing here?”
“I was visiting Amanda. She is my friend, you know.”
Nick cringed, and Katie knew what he was thinking. That drunken night she had called Amanda on a dare, the night she had introduced Nick to her. Because “you don’t have any decent friends,” as Nick had said.
“Yes, she is your friend,” Nick said. “I would have never known that.”
“I had forgotten that,” Nick said. “How are you then?”
“Good. Good enough,” Katie said. “How are you?”
“Good,” Nick said.
“Good,” Nick said.
One with contempt. One with hesitance.
“Amanda invited me to your wedding,” Katie said. “I hope everything goes well. Don’t drink too much—I don’t think she would be happy to wait by the toilet for you to finish throwing up.”
“Thank you.” The other Nick did not say anything.
“You’re welcome.”
All civil. Not a single go to hell, or fuck you. They had grown up, after all. Katie scoffed. If this was what growing up meant, she knew why all the grownups she had known as a child were always so stuck up.
Being grown up meant there were some things you wanted so desperately to say, but never said out loud.
Like, “If I had not called Amanda that night, what would have happened?”
Katied wondered. But she knew the answer already. Had she not called Amanda, Nick would be marrying some other girl. Katie herself would still be on barely-speaking terms with him. They would still find each other in this state, perhaps not at his house, but maybe a coffee place or a supermarket.
Still this awkward. Still hating each other.
And Katie would still hear Nick’s voice wherever she went.
. . .
This is all over the place, I admit. I had other things in mind when I was writing this (Nick was supposed to be perceptive and realize that something was wrong with Katie, for example), but it got long and I knew if I didn't finish this today I will never get to finish it, so I cut it off.
This is a much less morbid version of the other Nick, Katie, and Amanda story I had in mind. That one involves a funeral, and in some ways links to this one, so if I do get to fix it up I'll post it as well.
. . .
I was deferred to Penn. Surprisingly, I am not distraught, nor am I that upset. I think I wanted to get in somewhere early so I could just get it over with, but I am not entirely bought on the whole Penn thing. Maybe I was just persuading myself because I had already said I would do it and I hate to go back on my words.
I still love Penn.
But maybe it's not the one.
What does the one look like? I don't know. But MIT's as good a start as any. And yes, I know it's probably not the one either. But to be honest, I don't think I have to go to any one school, nor do I know what I would want for the next four years right now. In this regard, at least, I agree with Mario.
. . .
In English, someone was going to get cough drops from the nurse's office, and Sergio asked for one as well. Then someone else asked for some tissues.
Mr. Littney then said, "Get Dino a sucker pop as well."
We watched the last scene in Hamlet today. Where [spoiler alert] everyone important dies from poison (or, in Laertes's case, also from falling off a balcony, and, in Claudius's case, also from being squished by a chandelier). And Fortinbras marches his troops into the castle only to find everyone dead on the ground.
What a happy sight.
Apparently Aristotle's view of a tragedy is that after reading (or watching) one, we should have learned something about ourselves from it. So what have I learned? (Except for, as Mr. Littney pointed out, "the inability to shut up gives one longer life," as evidenced by Hamlet having being stabbed with poison first but dying last.)
I would say it's my inability to act. My indecision. My ease of just talking things over and not putting them into action. I am like Hamlet in that aspect. And I am missing out on many opportunities, and I am pushing myself off track with each minute I wait.
I can't decide.
I wrote about that in my EOQR as well, and my portfolio. Of course, in my portfolio, I said I learned how to decide, but I don't think I really did. I still don't have what it takes to stick to one decision and its consequences.
Just like colleges.
Just like Nick.
But that would be linking too many things together into one.
I thought you said you didn’t need saving. Said you could save yourself.
That was before. This is now.
You’re not desperate enough.
[There are some dreams that cannot be salvaged. Because they never existed.]
The steps to 30 Reading Street was covered in filmy moss. When Katie climbed them she almost slipped, but years of subway-riding training gave her the quick reflexes to steady herself and keep on going.
“Careful there,” Nick said. He held out his hand, hovered behind her back.
“Don’t worry about me,” Katie said. “I’m fine.”
She reached over and pressed the doorbell. No sound came from inside, and Katie wondered if she should press it again, or knock on the door. Would it be too rude? She stared at her reflection in the glass.
Perfectly groomed hair. Make-up applied so seamlessly they were dreamy. A neat cardigan over a navy cotton dress and ballerina flats. Her appearance was so youthful and carefree she thought she could almost mask the haunted look in her eyes.
After a few minutes, the door creaked open. Amanda’s weary eyes replaced Katie’s from behind the glass.
“What do you want?” They both said at the same time.
“Am I that predictable?” Amanda asked, a half-smile on her face.
Katie returned it with more optimism than she thought she had. “It is partly my fault. I usually only call on you when I need something.”
“Well then. How are you?”
“Good, good. How are you? How is Nick?”
“He is good,” Amanda and Nick said at the same time. Except this time, Amanda did not react. Katie shot him a dark look before turning back to Amanda.
“I am glad to hear that. You are good too?”
“Yes,” Amanda said. “Yes, I am.”
They stood a while like that, in silence. Katie remotely remembered why she never called upon Amanda. She pulled up a smile again and said, “Want to go get coffee with me some afternoon? I have a really flexible schedule now, and I get most afternoons off.”
“You don’t have a schedule anymore,” Nick said. “You don’t even work anymore.”
Amanda said, “That sounds nice. I am free Wednesday afternoons, and Nick does not get home until late. It is nearing dinner-time today, so maybe next Wednesday?”
“Yes, that would be great,” Katie said. “Absolutely lovely.” Absolutely fucking lovely, but she managed to cut off the curse. Nick should be proud.
The conversation fell into another lull. This time, Amanda smiled. “No hard feelings?”
“No hard feelings,” Katie said.
None at all.
“Yes, no hard feelings,” Nick said, and laughed. That dry, hacking laugh. “Wish her a happy marriage. I dare you.”
“I hope you will be happy with Nick,” Katie said. “You two are perfect for each other.”
“Thank you,” Amanda said. “I was afraid—well, forgive me, but with your history with Nick, I was afraid that you might be upset at the news.”
“No, not at all. I am happy for you.”
“Well, thank you again. I hope you will come to the ceremony? I was going to ask you to be my bridesmaid, but Jessie really wanted—”
“That is not a problem,” Katie said. “I would hate to be so responsible anyway.”
“But the ceremony?”
“Yes, I will. I have to go now, but next Wednesday at Miguel’s café?”
“Of course.”
“Good bye.”
“Good bye.”
The door closed, and Katie was left with her reflection again. The hair still unruffled. The make-up pristine. Her outfit as cheerful and preppy as before. Her eyes just as hollow, but she was glad Amanda was not too perceptive.
Katie went down the steps, taking care not to slip on the moss again. She asked, “Why didn’t you clean this place up?”
“Not my problem,” Nick said. “Amanda can do it if she wanted.”
“She is your fiancée.”
“She is.”
“So what if she slips and falls? What if she gets hurt? You still won’t do it?”
“You were pretty gutsy back there,” Nick said. “I thought you wouldn’t have said it.”
“Don’t change the topic,” Katie said.
“I’m—”
A sky-blue car pulled up in the driveway in front of her. The door opened, and Nick stepped out. He just stood there, staring at Katie, and she could see something in his eyes that she often saw in her own.
“Hey, Nick,” she said.
“Katie,” Nick said. His voice did not have that sardonic tone anymore. It was more subdued, with an edge in it that made Katie’s throat contract. “What are you doing here?”
“I was visiting Amanda. She is my friend, you know.”
Nick cringed, and Katie knew what he was thinking. That drunken night she had called Amanda on a dare, the night she had introduced Nick to her. Because “you don’t have any decent friends,” as Nick had said.
“Yes, she is your friend,” Nick said. “I would have never known that.”
“I had forgotten that,” Nick said. “How are you then?”
“Good. Good enough,” Katie said. “How are you?”
“Good,” Nick said.
“Good,” Nick said.
One with contempt. One with hesitance.
“Amanda invited me to your wedding,” Katie said. “I hope everything goes well. Don’t drink too much—I don’t think she would be happy to wait by the toilet for you to finish throwing up.”
“Thank you.” The other Nick did not say anything.
“You’re welcome.”
All civil. Not a single go to hell, or fuck you. They had grown up, after all. Katie scoffed. If this was what growing up meant, she knew why all the grownups she had known as a child were always so stuck up.
Being grown up meant there were some things you wanted so desperately to say, but never said out loud.
Like, “If I had not called Amanda that night, what would have happened?”
Katied wondered. But she knew the answer already. Had she not called Amanda, Nick would be marrying some other girl. Katie herself would still be on barely-speaking terms with him. They would still find each other in this state, perhaps not at his house, but maybe a coffee place or a supermarket.
Still this awkward. Still hating each other.
And Katie would still hear Nick’s voice wherever she went.
. . .
This is all over the place, I admit. I had other things in mind when I was writing this (Nick was supposed to be perceptive and realize that something was wrong with Katie, for example), but it got long and I knew if I didn't finish this today I will never get to finish it, so I cut it off.
This is a much less morbid version of the other Nick, Katie, and Amanda story I had in mind. That one involves a funeral, and in some ways links to this one, so if I do get to fix it up I'll post it as well.
. . .
I was deferred to Penn. Surprisingly, I am not distraught, nor am I that upset. I think I wanted to get in somewhere early so I could just get it over with, but I am not entirely bought on the whole Penn thing. Maybe I was just persuading myself because I had already said I would do it and I hate to go back on my words.
I still love Penn.
But maybe it's not the one.
What does the one look like? I don't know. But MIT's as good a start as any. And yes, I know it's probably not the one either. But to be honest, I don't think I have to go to any one school, nor do I know what I would want for the next four years right now. In this regard, at least, I agree with Mario.
. . .
In English, someone was going to get cough drops from the nurse's office, and Sergio asked for one as well. Then someone else asked for some tissues.
Mr. Littney then said, "Get Dino a sucker pop as well."
We watched the last scene in Hamlet today. Where [spoiler alert] everyone important dies from poison (or, in Laertes's case, also from falling off a balcony, and, in Claudius's case, also from being squished by a chandelier). And Fortinbras marches his troops into the castle only to find everyone dead on the ground.
What a happy sight.
Apparently Aristotle's view of a tragedy is that after reading (or watching) one, we should have learned something about ourselves from it. So what have I learned? (Except for, as Mr. Littney pointed out, "the inability to shut up gives one longer life," as evidenced by Hamlet having being stabbed with poison first but dying last.)
I would say it's my inability to act. My indecision. My ease of just talking things over and not putting them into action. I am like Hamlet in that aspect. And I am missing out on many opportunities, and I am pushing myself off track with each minute I wait.
I can't decide.
I wrote about that in my EOQR as well, and my portfolio. Of course, in my portfolio, I said I learned how to decide, but I don't think I really did. I still don't have what it takes to stick to one decision and its consequences.
Just like colleges.
Just like Nick.
But that would be linking too many things together into one.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Generalizations And My Inherent Laziness
When I say "I don't know," half the time I do know, but I feel disinclined to say what I know out loud. It has been a point of contention between my parents and me. They have been trying to get me to say every thought I have, instead of keeping them all within my head.
It doesn't work that way, I want to tell them, but that would require actually saying the words out loud, and that is exactly the problem.
A vicious cycle.
I have been wondering lately if I have been turning this blog into a diary. There are so many "thoughts" posts, and not enough "events" posts or "story" posts. So much inner monologue. Like Hamlet.
So to make amends I will talk about math team, as I have promised (many, many times).
. . .
Since our last math meet was also Argon's birthday, Yuma and I tried out this really cool cake mix and whipped cream cookies recipe. Except it turned out to be more like cake. I think it was because we put all the batter on one tray, because we were running out of time, so the resulting glob of stuff was too thick and therefore did not have cookie chewy/crunchy consistency.
Oh well. It was still really delicious.
On the bus ride to Spearheadville, Bryant, Tybalt, and Dino started talking about college. Which reminds me, Penn's ED results are out next Friday! Can you believe it? Less than a week away! It is both exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time, and I don't know (really) which one is winning right now.
Anyway, college has definitely overtaken our lives. Perhaps things will get better in a month or so?
Once there, we found our normal banished-to-the-corner tables, and started our normal soda-talk, commonly known as, "Did you know there is partially brominated fats in opaque-looking sodas?" And then everyone at the table deciding to drink only the transparent sodas. And then Grob coming over and grabbing the one soda with said fats in it.
We had a short-lived discussion on whether Grob will turn out okay after freshman year, as Micro had. I sure hope so. And maybe he will start taking those headphones out of his ears, because he is missing crucial advice (we did warn him about the soda, but he didn't hear).
Then came the actual competition (and food). I did rather horribly this time, but the questions (matrices aside) were really fun. Team round too, although I didn't really like the geometry question this time. Too much guessing and checking.
I did my French homework after that, so I missed out on lots of conversation (but I did catch Tybalt showing Argon, Reno, and Summer the projectile launch lab—the one with the moving car—because they were doing stationary target launches).
That is all I really remember for now. Oh, and the bus ride home, but that was self-explanatory and I actually don't remember much from it anyway.
It doesn't work that way, I want to tell them, but that would require actually saying the words out loud, and that is exactly the problem.
A vicious cycle.
I have been wondering lately if I have been turning this blog into a diary. There are so many "thoughts" posts, and not enough "events" posts or "story" posts. So much inner monologue. Like Hamlet.
So to make amends I will talk about math team, as I have promised (many, many times).
. . .
Since our last math meet was also Argon's birthday, Yuma and I tried out this really cool cake mix and whipped cream cookies recipe. Except it turned out to be more like cake. I think it was because we put all the batter on one tray, because we were running out of time, so the resulting glob of stuff was too thick and therefore did not have cookie chewy/crunchy consistency.
Oh well. It was still really delicious.
On the bus ride to Spearheadville, Bryant, Tybalt, and Dino started talking about college. Which reminds me, Penn's ED results are out next Friday! Can you believe it? Less than a week away! It is both exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time, and I don't know (really) which one is winning right now.
Anyway, college has definitely overtaken our lives. Perhaps things will get better in a month or so?
Once there, we found our normal banished-to-the-corner tables, and started our normal soda-talk, commonly known as, "Did you know there is partially brominated fats in opaque-looking sodas?" And then everyone at the table deciding to drink only the transparent sodas. And then Grob coming over and grabbing the one soda with said fats in it.
We had a short-lived discussion on whether Grob will turn out okay after freshman year, as Micro had. I sure hope so. And maybe he will start taking those headphones out of his ears, because he is missing crucial advice (we did warn him about the soda, but he didn't hear).
Then came the actual competition (and food). I did rather horribly this time, but the questions (matrices aside) were really fun. Team round too, although I didn't really like the geometry question this time. Too much guessing and checking.
I did my French homework after that, so I missed out on lots of conversation (but I did catch Tybalt showing Argon, Reno, and Summer the projectile launch lab—the one with the moving car—because they were doing stationary target launches).
That is all I really remember for now. Oh, and the bus ride home, but that was self-explanatory and I actually don't remember much from it anyway.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Interviews, Take Three
Okay, fine. Take two was my Penn interview, in which my interviewer said, "I have to write a paragraph or two about you to give to the school, so what do you want to talk about that you haven't mentioned in your application?"
Quite literally.
It's almost as bad as McGill's major scholarship's essay prompt #3, namely, "Write a letter of recommendation about yourself in 3rd person."
Ginny is a good student. Ginny does not like talking in 3rd person. Ginny thinks this is enough fooling around.
So onwards to take three, my MIT interview. Courtesy of MIT's "please contact your interviewer before Dec. 10th if you are applying regular decision," or something along those lines, I had a nice surprise when my interviewer contacted me in mid-October.
But anyway. We met at Starbucks, and luckily it was not as awkward as Ariadne had described it, namely because there was this group next to us who was talking animatedly and thus did not really notice us. We talked while my interviewer took notes, and then I waited while he took multiple phone calls (one in some language that I was pretty sure was not English, and two from his daughter who I think was close to missing some sort of deadline for applying to med school and was panicking—also, Gretchen, you should've gotten my interviewer, you could've talked so much more about med school and stuff).
All good stuff. I mean, what could go wrong during an interview? (Cue lots of little kids running up and down the cupcake display, screaming in delight every 20 seconds. Yes, this really happened.)
I had also asked Yuma to meet me at Starbucks (some time after my interview), so when I was done I looked around for him, but he wasn't there yet. So I went downstairs, bought a cup of hot chocolate, and went upstairs again to see if I had somehow not seen him.
Now imagine interviewer guy staring at me oddly. And me awkwardly going downstairs again, where, thank goodness, I found Yuma coming up the stairs (apparently he had gotten lost while biking down some street I have never even heard of before).
Later on, we (mostly Yuma) discovered that another guy was up there being interviewed. By my (well, I guess he's not mine anymore) interviewer. What fun.
To make up for the week of weird (I use the term loosely) interviewing, Yuma and I sat outside Starbucks for an hour actively confusing Brian, who was asking for senior write-up help. Which, by the way, I have decided I am not going to write. But I do need to order the yearbook soon.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Honesty First
On the online application for any retail job at a Stop&Shop store, it asks (something along these lines), "Have you ever taken supplies from the store (minor office supplies not included) without telling your store manager?"
Then you get to choose how much you took or, if you didn't take anything, the "none" option.
For the ShopRite application, not only does it warn you that the application will take around 45-60 minutes, it also makes you sign up for an account so you can save your information prior to submitting. I don't understand why they can't just make the applications shorter and cut out some of the stupid questions. Like, have you stolen money from your previous employer?
Seriously? If I had, would I be telling you?
Anyway. Bryant today tried to tell me about his woeful Friday, when he has five tests, and I nodded along, trying to pretend I was paying attention. Honestly, Bryant, I don't care how many tests you have. Stop complaining to me. I've got enough to worry about for myself.
But of course, instead of saying that out loud, I listened to him speculate that we would have a multi test within this week. And whine about his utexas. Among numerous other things I would not have expected to come from him, but since I never really sat close to him for extended periods of time, maybe I've just not been exposed to his more, uh, not content side.
In other (more interesting, perhaps) news, the Penn representative who was supposed to come to our school today did not show up. Or at least, I think she did not show up. The bell rang fifteen minutes after she was supposed to come, and I had an econ test next, so I told myself, "Oh, I'll wait a few more minutes." Then I saw Mr. Wollen walk by the door, so I decided, oh well, econ test is more important than listening to something I probably know already anyway.
I got an email later from my counselor saying that the rep is coming on Thursday. During my free.
A little sacrifice, but I can deal with that. I mean, I'm applying ED to this school, I should be able to sacrifice some things.
Which reminds me, yesterday, after I asked Bryant if he had a blue tie (he doesn't, but he has a red one and gold one), he randomly asked, "Just out of curiosity, where are you applying early?"
I wonder how long he's been waiting to ask me that?
I asked Dino too (about the tie), and he said, "I don't have any ties," and refused to answer my question as to why his profile picture clearly shows him in a tie. Then, as I elaborated that I'd like stripes on that tie, he asked, "Are you kidding?" Way to trust my totally legitimate inquiries.
Later on, he told me that Tybalt had such a tie, which is a complete lie.
Then you get to choose how much you took or, if you didn't take anything, the "none" option.
For the ShopRite application, not only does it warn you that the application will take around 45-60 minutes, it also makes you sign up for an account so you can save your information prior to submitting. I don't understand why they can't just make the applications shorter and cut out some of the stupid questions. Like, have you stolen money from your previous employer?
Seriously? If I had, would I be telling you?
Anyway. Bryant today tried to tell me about his woeful Friday, when he has five tests, and I nodded along, trying to pretend I was paying attention. Honestly, Bryant, I don't care how many tests you have. Stop complaining to me. I've got enough to worry about for myself.
But of course, instead of saying that out loud, I listened to him speculate that we would have a multi test within this week. And whine about his utexas. Among numerous other things I would not have expected to come from him, but since I never really sat close to him for extended periods of time, maybe I've just not been exposed to his more, uh, not content side.
In other (more interesting, perhaps) news, the Penn representative who was supposed to come to our school today did not show up. Or at least, I think she did not show up. The bell rang fifteen minutes after she was supposed to come, and I had an econ test next, so I told myself, "Oh, I'll wait a few more minutes." Then I saw Mr. Wollen walk by the door, so I decided, oh well, econ test is more important than listening to something I probably know already anyway.
I got an email later from my counselor saying that the rep is coming on Thursday. During my free.
A little sacrifice, but I can deal with that. I mean, I'm applying ED to this school, I should be able to sacrifice some things.
Which reminds me, yesterday, after I asked Bryant if he had a blue tie (he doesn't, but he has a red one and gold one), he randomly asked, "Just out of curiosity, where are you applying early?"
I wonder how long he's been waiting to ask me that?
I asked Dino too (about the tie), and he said, "I don't have any ties," and refused to answer my question as to why his profile picture clearly shows him in a tie. Then, as I elaborated that I'd like stripes on that tie, he asked, "Are you kidding?" Way to trust my totally legitimate inquiries.
Later on, he told me that Tybalt had such a tie, which is a complete lie.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Not Now, Professor Snape
Harry, Ron, and Hermione are in a room that looks suspiciously like my living room, except with more red cushions scattered everywhere. They are discussing something, but I (if I even exist, at this point) can’t hear what they are saying. No matter. Snape to the rescue! He barges into the room and asks, “Where is your wand, Potter?”
“Here, Professor,” Harry says, while pulling out something that looks like the end (that you hold) of those wooden things people use with honey. I’m not sure what they are called. Ron and Hermione both pull out these weird wooden rods as well.
“What are these?” Snape asks. I am surprised he has not exploded and docked 100 points each from Gryffindor for their insolence.
“They’re wands, Professor,” Hermione says, as though it were the most obvious thing since the Basilisk killed people. “We bought them. There’s even a review questionnaire we can fill out on how well these wands work.”
“So do they work?”
Hermione used her wand and tapped at the paper. Nothing happened. “Well,” she says, “it sometimes works if you tilt it the right angle. But the makers respect customers’ privacy, so we gave it an F+.”
“It doesn’t work,” Snape says. “I’m giving it an F-. But how will you protect yourselves when the Death Eaters come?”
“Oh, we have a plan.”
And they call out some white-haired girl, and Snape is about to ask, “How is she going to help you?” But the Death Eaters come at this moment, and they shout, “YOU TRAITOR, SNAPE!!!”
Well. I don’t think he’s going to be asking many questions right now.
They run up to punch Snape (uh, what about wands, people?) but the white-haired girl does some really cool magic trick (finally! magic...) and repels the Death Eaters. Snape sighs in relief. And then—
I woke up. Yeah. Not too exciting anymore. I hate it when I wake up right in the middle of some really cool action. But I guess it’s out of my control. REM periods are only so long.
Anyway, I have decided upon a new approach for my Penn essay (this one is actually going well), and while I was doing research, I came across their food vendor’s map. Below, they have notes on where to find different restaurants and such, and I saw:
3. Original Le Anh Chinese Food,
and
5. The Real Le Anh Chinese Food.
Gee. I never knew Le Anh Chinese Food was so popular. Does that mean that #3 is a fake and #5 is a copycat that copied #3? But that would be a paradox, because then #5 wouldn’t be real either, so it’s not “The Real” anymore. And if it’s not “The Real” anymore, then #3 wouldn’t have to be fake, and then #5 wouldn’t have to be fake either, and—
Complicated. I am so glad #3 Fruit Salad and #4 Fruit Salad did not decide to add prefixes as well.
“Here, Professor,” Harry says, while pulling out something that looks like the end (that you hold) of those wooden things people use with honey. I’m not sure what they are called. Ron and Hermione both pull out these weird wooden rods as well.
“What are these?” Snape asks. I am surprised he has not exploded and docked 100 points each from Gryffindor for their insolence.
“They’re wands, Professor,” Hermione says, as though it were the most obvious thing since the Basilisk killed people. “We bought them. There’s even a review questionnaire we can fill out on how well these wands work.”
“So do they work?”
Hermione used her wand and tapped at the paper. Nothing happened. “Well,” she says, “it sometimes works if you tilt it the right angle. But the makers respect customers’ privacy, so we gave it an F+.”
“It doesn’t work,” Snape says. “I’m giving it an F-. But how will you protect yourselves when the Death Eaters come?”
“Oh, we have a plan.”
And they call out some white-haired girl, and Snape is about to ask, “How is she going to help you?” But the Death Eaters come at this moment, and they shout, “YOU TRAITOR, SNAPE!!!”
Well. I don’t think he’s going to be asking many questions right now.
They run up to punch Snape (uh, what about wands, people?) but the white-haired girl does some really cool magic trick (finally! magic...) and repels the Death Eaters. Snape sighs in relief. And then—
I woke up. Yeah. Not too exciting anymore. I hate it when I wake up right in the middle of some really cool action. But I guess it’s out of my control. REM periods are only so long.
Anyway, I have decided upon a new approach for my Penn essay (this one is actually going well), and while I was doing research, I came across their food vendor’s map. Below, they have notes on where to find different restaurants and such, and I saw:
3. Original Le Anh Chinese Food,
and
5. The Real Le Anh Chinese Food.
Gee. I never knew Le Anh Chinese Food was so popular. Does that mean that #3 is a fake and #5 is a copycat that copied #3? But that would be a paradox, because then #5 wouldn’t be real either, so it’s not “The Real” anymore. And if it’s not “The Real” anymore, then #3 wouldn’t have to be fake, and then #5 wouldn’t have to be fake either, and—
Complicated. I am so glad #3 Fruit Salad and #4 Fruit Salad did not decide to add prefixes as well.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
A 250-Word Fortune (Cookie Slip)
I don’t know what the admissions people are thinking.
Even the fact that I’m referring to them as “the admissions people” prove that I am out of tune with them. I am sure they are individuals with vibrant personalities and a love for their school, but it’s hard to imagine that when I’m imagining them reading my essay. All I can imagine is a room lit with some overhead lamp and a wooden desk with tons of qualified students’ essays in a pile, and my essay is being read, and there’s no face associated with that person. I just can’t do it.
I am having trouble writing my Penn essay. The essay people at CC say is just a revamped (and more specific) version of the traditional “Why Penn” essay. I beg to differ. In my (truthful) “Why Penn” essay, I would write, “I fell in love with Penn from the first day I heard of it, which was in a crossword puzzle from the New York Times.” And that would most likely not go well, but that is what I think when I hear, “Why Penn?”
In this new essay, I am supposed to explain what I am going to do when (if) I go to Penn. Honestly? I don’t think I can tell you that, and if I did, it’ll most likely be a lie. Two years ago I thought I’d be taking precalc this year, not to mention two frees and (if I was lucky) maybe stat. And you know how that one turned out. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think I can appreciate all of what Penn is like just from their website and a rainy-day tour (which I haven’t written about yet). I know there are things that I am going to find fascinating that I don’t even know about yet. And I know I’m supposed to write with what I know now, but it just doesn’t feel real.
It’s all too trite, I think.
I’m writing about how I love math (isn’t that one obvious?) and how I want to major in math. But there’s only so far I can go with this. I’m talking applied, and connections, and fundamental skills, and they’re rolling on my tongue but they’re so detached I don’t think this is what I really want. I mean, I want the math, yes. But I want to experience moments of, “Aha! I can solve this problem using that technique I learned in math class!” I want those moments, not just talks of theory and abstract problems. I guess that’s also a reason I never quite liked algebra. Too abstract and intangible, unlike geometry (well, the geometry we’re learning, anyway).
This essay isn’t really tangible, either. It’s asking me to imagine the intangible, conditional future. For one, I have to be accepted first (and that, in turn, depends in part on this essay). I’m afraid to imagine that (in case I jinx it) but I could if I had to. Then I have to not change my mind, because if I do I don’t know what I’ll change it to (and if I did know I think I’d change my mind right now). And then, I’ve got to imagine a limited, lackluster Penn, because a few lines of text and some blurry pictures don’t quite capture the spirit of things, and I’ve got to imagine what I’m going to do in this toned-down version of the school.
I’m also sad they took away the autobiography optional essay. I rather liked that one. Yes, it can also be about the future (and its intangible qualities), but it’s more creative. I know everyone wants to know if these applicants (myself included) are best suited for the schools, but they have got to realize that people are applying to lots of schools that ask the same question, and beyond the first school (that gut-feeling school) I don’t think anyone can really say too many passionate things (there must be a reason why these schools weren’t chosen as “the one”).
Yes, I am frustrated. I can write hundreds of words for this post, and for my Chicago extended essay, and even for MIT, but those 250 words Penn is asking me to write is eluding me. And I wish I knew how to get over this semi-writer’s block (or would it be an essayist’s block?) and just finish writing my essays and be done with it. I wish I knew.
So, basically, I want to know both what the admissions people are thinking, and also what my subconscious mind is thinking. I guess the latter is easier to achieve, because I really want to go into researching neuroscience and especially the subconscious mind and dreams. As for the former, perhaps that will happen after I am accepted into college and when (if) I help out with the admissions people.
Even the fact that I’m referring to them as “the admissions people” prove that I am out of tune with them. I am sure they are individuals with vibrant personalities and a love for their school, but it’s hard to imagine that when I’m imagining them reading my essay. All I can imagine is a room lit with some overhead lamp and a wooden desk with tons of qualified students’ essays in a pile, and my essay is being read, and there’s no face associated with that person. I just can’t do it.
I am having trouble writing my Penn essay. The essay people at CC say is just a revamped (and more specific) version of the traditional “Why Penn” essay. I beg to differ. In my (truthful) “Why Penn” essay, I would write, “I fell in love with Penn from the first day I heard of it, which was in a crossword puzzle from the New York Times.” And that would most likely not go well, but that is what I think when I hear, “Why Penn?”
In this new essay, I am supposed to explain what I am going to do when (if) I go to Penn. Honestly? I don’t think I can tell you that, and if I did, it’ll most likely be a lie. Two years ago I thought I’d be taking precalc this year, not to mention two frees and (if I was lucky) maybe stat. And you know how that one turned out. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think I can appreciate all of what Penn is like just from their website and a rainy-day tour (which I haven’t written about yet). I know there are things that I am going to find fascinating that I don’t even know about yet. And I know I’m supposed to write with what I know now, but it just doesn’t feel real.
It’s all too trite, I think.
I’m writing about how I love math (isn’t that one obvious?) and how I want to major in math. But there’s only so far I can go with this. I’m talking applied, and connections, and fundamental skills, and they’re rolling on my tongue but they’re so detached I don’t think this is what I really want. I mean, I want the math, yes. But I want to experience moments of, “Aha! I can solve this problem using that technique I learned in math class!” I want those moments, not just talks of theory and abstract problems. I guess that’s also a reason I never quite liked algebra. Too abstract and intangible, unlike geometry (well, the geometry we’re learning, anyway).
This essay isn’t really tangible, either. It’s asking me to imagine the intangible, conditional future. For one, I have to be accepted first (and that, in turn, depends in part on this essay). I’m afraid to imagine that (in case I jinx it) but I could if I had to. Then I have to not change my mind, because if I do I don’t know what I’ll change it to (and if I did know I think I’d change my mind right now). And then, I’ve got to imagine a limited, lackluster Penn, because a few lines of text and some blurry pictures don’t quite capture the spirit of things, and I’ve got to imagine what I’m going to do in this toned-down version of the school.
I’m also sad they took away the autobiography optional essay. I rather liked that one. Yes, it can also be about the future (and its intangible qualities), but it’s more creative. I know everyone wants to know if these applicants (myself included) are best suited for the schools, but they have got to realize that people are applying to lots of schools that ask the same question, and beyond the first school (that gut-feeling school) I don’t think anyone can really say too many passionate things (there must be a reason why these schools weren’t chosen as “the one”).
Yes, I am frustrated. I can write hundreds of words for this post, and for my Chicago extended essay, and even for MIT, but those 250 words Penn is asking me to write is eluding me. And I wish I knew how to get over this semi-writer’s block (or would it be an essayist’s block?) and just finish writing my essays and be done with it. I wish I knew.
So, basically, I want to know both what the admissions people are thinking, and also what my subconscious mind is thinking. I guess the latter is easier to achieve, because I really want to go into researching neuroscience and especially the subconscious mind and dreams. As for the former, perhaps that will happen after I am accepted into college and when (if) I help out with the admissions people.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Just Because I Speak French
Doesn't mean I live outside the US.
I know I have said that I will probably be posting again once school starts, but there has been a change of plans because I have more time on my hands and more things are happening lately. This seems paradoxical, I know, but there is no other way to explain it.
Anyway. Lest I forget, the important things.
First, Penn's supplement is finally out. I've been waiting for this since summer vacation started, and for the month of July their website said, "The Penn supplement to the Common Application will be out on July 15th." (Well, more or less those words.) So I checked in late July, and they said it'll be out on August 1st, when the common app comes out. Then, on August 1st, during the common app frenzy, they pushed it back again to mid-August, whenever that is.
Well, mid-August in Penn-world is around August 25th, just so you know.
Then, there is the news that I passed my open-book honors-level-bio exam! I am not sure that the "open book" part still makes it an honors-level exam, but I shall have faith. And did you know our school doesn't have enough AP bio textbooks? I'm not too surprised. There are four classes, after all.
And probably the most exciting of all—Google Voice. I'm still trying to figure out how this works, but it looks really promising (not to mention free calls to Canada). The only thing is, I can't use Gmail in French to call people yet, because it's only out in the US so far, and apparently people in the US only speak English.
That is unfair. I live in the US, and I like my Gmail in French, thank you very much.
Still, you can't beat unlimited free SMS. That's got to have the major mobile carriers mad. And once again, I am falling deeper and deeper into the Google products chain. I use Gmail, Google calendar (although only occasionally), Google reader, iGoogle, Google (the search engine), Google docs, Google maps, Google books, Google trends (this one is really cool), Google translate, Google sites (HUSH portfolio), Chrome, Blogger (hey, this blog!), and now Google voice.
I am not obsessed. Not at all.
I know I have said that I will probably be posting again once school starts, but there has been a change of plans because I have more time on my hands and more things are happening lately. This seems paradoxical, I know, but there is no other way to explain it.
Anyway. Lest I forget, the important things.
First, Penn's supplement is finally out. I've been waiting for this since summer vacation started, and for the month of July their website said, "The Penn supplement to the Common Application will be out on July 15th." (Well, more or less those words.) So I checked in late July, and they said it'll be out on August 1st, when the common app comes out. Then, on August 1st, during the common app frenzy, they pushed it back again to mid-August, whenever that is.
Well, mid-August in Penn-world is around August 25th, just so you know.
Then, there is the news that I passed my open-book honors-level-bio exam! I am not sure that the "open book" part still makes it an honors-level exam, but I shall have faith. And did you know our school doesn't have enough AP bio textbooks? I'm not too surprised. There are four classes, after all.
And probably the most exciting of all—Google Voice. I'm still trying to figure out how this works, but it looks really promising (not to mention free calls to Canada). The only thing is, I can't use Gmail in French to call people yet, because it's only out in the US so far, and apparently people in the US only speak English.
That is unfair. I live in the US, and I like my Gmail in French, thank you very much.
Still, you can't beat unlimited free SMS. That's got to have the major mobile carriers mad. And once again, I am falling deeper and deeper into the Google products chain. I use Gmail, Google calendar (although only occasionally), Google reader, iGoogle, Google (the search engine), Google docs, Google maps, Google books, Google trends (this one is really cool), Google translate, Google sites (HUSH portfolio), Chrome, Blogger (hey, this blog!), and now Google voice.
I am not obsessed. Not at all.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
PPS: Perhaps This Is The (Perfect) One
[The much awaited "proof post" about my immense, often irrational love for Penn.]
Continuing on my analogy on love: I think I've mentioned this before plenty of times, but I can't say it enough. Penn is my first love. I come from a college-conscious family; my parents come from an era in China where college graduates were considered "the only future," and the government fully funded all such education. My second aunt on my dad's side bought books on the Chinese "Harvard Girl," hoping my cousin would follow in those footsteps. If you asked any of my family's friends about which colleges were "good," they would answer, in a similar order, "MIT, Stanford, UC Berkeley, Caltech, Cornell." Harvard. Yale. Big names. I knew about the prestige, but not much about where I really wanted to attend.
Falling in love with Penn is much similar to the usual way I fall in love. Something catches my curiosity, and slowly, I become so entangled in its mysteries that I find myself irrevocably in love. Maybe it's not love, but rather an enormous interest, bordering on obsession, but I like to compare it to love.
(Ironically, Owen's going to Penn.)
The first time I'd heard of Penn was in a newspaper crossword. The clue was, "How do University of Pennsylvania students usually refer to their school?" The word was five letters long, so I guessed, "UPenn."
It was the answer, but it wasn't true, although I did not learn that until much later.
Sometime after that, I had the notion that I wanted to learn more about this school. It was in Philadelphia, one of my favorite cities (aside from Toronto, obviously, and Boston, and Chicago), and I was definitely a city girl. My parents talked with me about business, about a math career, and they brought up Wharton. It was like Penn was the perfect, perfect school.
Well, my parents and I went on a one-day trip to Philadelphia some Saturday prior (more like, an eternity ago), and our main destination was, of course, Penn. My first impression of Penn (physically) and of University City was the huge metal bridge with Penn's crest printed upon it. That, and it was raining. It was raining so hard that when I got out of the car, there was a small, gushing river between the edge of the car and the curb.
The actual information session I did not remember much. I do remember it was in a huge room, and there were many, many people, from all sorts of places. Some aspects of the admissions process was talked about, mostly on what Penn was looking for, and I remember lots of mention on the dual-degree programs.
The tour, on the other hand, was quite a spectacular event. It was still raining, and we went around with umbrellas, but I could catch glimpses of lush green leaves and beautiful, castle-like buildings. It was not as exquisite as Princeton, but it had its own charm. And when I walked into Huntsman Hall, I think I really stopped breathing for a moment.
I think, at that moment, I decided that I would start wooing Penn with my love letters (i.e. application material).
We went to downtown Philadelphia next, where my mom said I would have no problem finding adequate Chinese food in case I craved some, and we saw the Liberty Bell. We also saw numerous Chinese school-kids (elementary to middle school) who were here as part of a summer camp program.
The rain had cleared up by now, and we set out for Swarthmore, as suggested by Reese. I do not understand why Reese is so excited by the possibility (which, by the way, is very unlikely, if anything) that I may be attending Swat. We drove behind a trolley car for half an hour, into what was definitely a small town, and there was Swarthmore, tucked away.
I realize most of my readers have never been to Swarthmore. If I had only two words to describe it, I would use "botanical paradise." Literally, the campus is a huge garden, from Parrish Beach to all the labeled plants (and there are a lot of them) to the outdoor amphitheater that's cloaked in an ambient green. It's amazing. I understand why Reese likes it so much.
Now if they only were less stingy about their financial aid to foreign students. I guess that's the price I've got to pay for an outdoor wonderland like Swat (come to think of it, Stanford, which is also gorgeous, is also not need-blind toward foreign students).
When the mosquitoes started biting, we left. My parents wanted to see Princeton anyway, so we went there next. I've talked about Princeton before, in which I said Princeton was absolutely stunning and perfect. It still is. I love Penn, but I've got to be honest. Princeton is amazing. Its buildings, its campus, everything. There is a sense of wholeness at Princeton, a majestic entity bestowed upon this world.
Well. Anyway. Time for my summaries of the three schools, then.
Penn:
Despite the rain, we got to see a lot, including above decent architecture (better than Dartmouth, Cornell, and Columbia, on par with inner-Brown and parts of Yale, which I will need to talk about later), great Locust Walk, and a small enough campus that I won't worry too much about transportation (although if you're talking small you can't beat Columbia). Close to downtown, which by the way is gorgeous—even NYC's got nothing on Philly. Also close to not-so-decent areas (run-down houses), and of course my parents are concerned about campus safety.
Swarthmore:
Half an hour away from Philly, it's relaxing and has a soothing beauty to it. Buildings—average. Admissions office is the only great building. Decent size, lots of cool plants, and bunnies! Always a plus. When you leave campus, there's a plaza right outside, so it's not too inconvenient. Not for me, though. I hate isolated places, and although Swat's not as bad as, say, Middlebury, it's still too quiet for me.
Princeton:
I've done this before, so I won't do it again, except to say that we also went to this fountain place (on the engineering and more science/tech side of campus) and it's really nice. The buildings are more modern, not as nice as the main part of campus, but it's integrated nicely, unlike Cornell (that place is a planning disaster).
As for my perfect school?
I think you know already.
Continuing on my analogy on love: I think I've mentioned this before plenty of times, but I can't say it enough. Penn is my first love. I come from a college-conscious family; my parents come from an era in China where college graduates were considered "the only future," and the government fully funded all such education. My second aunt on my dad's side bought books on the Chinese "Harvard Girl," hoping my cousin would follow in those footsteps. If you asked any of my family's friends about which colleges were "good," they would answer, in a similar order, "MIT, Stanford, UC Berkeley, Caltech, Cornell." Harvard. Yale. Big names. I knew about the prestige, but not much about where I really wanted to attend.
Falling in love with Penn is much similar to the usual way I fall in love. Something catches my curiosity, and slowly, I become so entangled in its mysteries that I find myself irrevocably in love. Maybe it's not love, but rather an enormous interest, bordering on obsession, but I like to compare it to love.
(Ironically, Owen's going to Penn.)
The first time I'd heard of Penn was in a newspaper crossword. The clue was, "How do University of Pennsylvania students usually refer to their school?" The word was five letters long, so I guessed, "UPenn."
It was the answer, but it wasn't true, although I did not learn that until much later.
Sometime after that, I had the notion that I wanted to learn more about this school. It was in Philadelphia, one of my favorite cities (aside from Toronto, obviously, and Boston, and Chicago), and I was definitely a city girl. My parents talked with me about business, about a math career, and they brought up Wharton. It was like Penn was the perfect, perfect school.
Well, my parents and I went on a one-day trip to Philadelphia some Saturday prior (more like, an eternity ago), and our main destination was, of course, Penn. My first impression of Penn (physically) and of University City was the huge metal bridge with Penn's crest printed upon it. That, and it was raining. It was raining so hard that when I got out of the car, there was a small, gushing river between the edge of the car and the curb.
The actual information session I did not remember much. I do remember it was in a huge room, and there were many, many people, from all sorts of places. Some aspects of the admissions process was talked about, mostly on what Penn was looking for, and I remember lots of mention on the dual-degree programs.
The tour, on the other hand, was quite a spectacular event. It was still raining, and we went around with umbrellas, but I could catch glimpses of lush green leaves and beautiful, castle-like buildings. It was not as exquisite as Princeton, but it had its own charm. And when I walked into Huntsman Hall, I think I really stopped breathing for a moment.
I think, at that moment, I decided that I would start wooing Penn with my love letters (i.e. application material).
We went to downtown Philadelphia next, where my mom said I would have no problem finding adequate Chinese food in case I craved some, and we saw the Liberty Bell. We also saw numerous Chinese school-kids (elementary to middle school) who were here as part of a summer camp program.
The rain had cleared up by now, and we set out for Swarthmore, as suggested by Reese. I do not understand why Reese is so excited by the possibility (which, by the way, is very unlikely, if anything) that I may be attending Swat. We drove behind a trolley car for half an hour, into what was definitely a small town, and there was Swarthmore, tucked away.
I realize most of my readers have never been to Swarthmore. If I had only two words to describe it, I would use "botanical paradise." Literally, the campus is a huge garden, from Parrish Beach to all the labeled plants (and there are a lot of them) to the outdoor amphitheater that's cloaked in an ambient green. It's amazing. I understand why Reese likes it so much.
Now if they only were less stingy about their financial aid to foreign students. I guess that's the price I've got to pay for an outdoor wonderland like Swat (come to think of it, Stanford, which is also gorgeous, is also not need-blind toward foreign students).
When the mosquitoes started biting, we left. My parents wanted to see Princeton anyway, so we went there next. I've talked about Princeton before, in which I said Princeton was absolutely stunning and perfect. It still is. I love Penn, but I've got to be honest. Princeton is amazing. Its buildings, its campus, everything. There is a sense of wholeness at Princeton, a majestic entity bestowed upon this world.
Well. Anyway. Time for my summaries of the three schools, then.
Penn:
Despite the rain, we got to see a lot, including above decent architecture (better than Dartmouth, Cornell, and Columbia, on par with inner-Brown and parts of Yale, which I will need to talk about later), great Locust Walk, and a small enough campus that I won't worry too much about transportation (although if you're talking small you can't beat Columbia). Close to downtown, which by the way is gorgeous—even NYC's got nothing on Philly. Also close to not-so-decent areas (run-down houses), and of course my parents are concerned about campus safety.
Swarthmore:
Half an hour away from Philly, it's relaxing and has a soothing beauty to it. Buildings—average. Admissions office is the only great building. Decent size, lots of cool plants, and bunnies! Always a plus. When you leave campus, there's a plaza right outside, so it's not too inconvenient. Not for me, though. I hate isolated places, and although Swat's not as bad as, say, Middlebury, it's still too quiet for me.
Princeton:
I've done this before, so I won't do it again, except to say that we also went to this fountain place (on the engineering and more science/tech side of campus) and it's really nice. The buildings are more modern, not as nice as the main part of campus, but it's integrated nicely, unlike Cornell (that place is a planning disaster).
As for my perfect school?
I think you know already.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Going, Going, Gone
I am leaving for Toronto tomorrow (a sufficiently large place that I feel, despite my general paranoia, confident in divulging this information to potential internet lurkers, which there are none anyway, but nonetheless). My mom and I are resolving passport issues (mainly hers). I will be resolving this issue in the future, right when I'm in the middle of my freshman year at college (which, according to the book I just read, is not a matter of if, but a matter of where), so it will be highly problematic and if I am not careful and/or lucky, I may have to resolve the impending illegal-status-problem during some oddly-timed exam.
Which will not be good. But I digress.
(Also, if I go to McGill, there will be no such problem, which is another plus, I suppose.)
I will probably be coming back a week later, if at all (well, I do hope to come back, but if I don't, someone tell Paperclip that I still owe them four textbooks, three of which are not under my name, plus an assortment of paperback books that are also not associated with me for some reason). This time will most likely be spent pseudo-prepping for bio/college/English/whatever else, and I will most likely be spending the pseudo-prepping time reacquainting with old friends.
I'm skeptical on internet access for the next week (or, for that matter, my amount of "free" time), so I won't be able to tell you in detail about my Penn-Swat-Princeton visit (or revisit, for Princeton), and how much I absolutely fell in love with Penn despite the rainstorm (walking into the Wharton building is rather awe-inspiring and breath-taking all at once, although the two often complement each other). Nor will I, for that matter, be able to keep up with blogs and comments (I'm sorry, Julie, I've been meaning to comment on your blog for a while now and I haven't found the chance yet), or my daily comic binge, which is rather sad, but I will deal with that (hopefully).
(I will also not be able to converse at length with Reese over his convictions that I should go to Swat, although he prefers Penn over Swat himself. That may or may not be a loss. I'm not sure.)
Most depressingly, I will probably miss the AP scores letter (I know I can call, but I'd rather not do that since it's way too suspenseful), delay my story until unknown times and depths, and not be able to vote on a senior girl shirt slogan/design. I will have to leave that to my (mostly) trustworthy fellow classmates.
Which will not be good. But I digress.
(Also, if I go to McGill, there will be no such problem, which is another plus, I suppose.)
I will probably be coming back a week later, if at all (well, I do hope to come back, but if I don't, someone tell Paperclip that I still owe them four textbooks, three of which are not under my name, plus an assortment of paperback books that are also not associated with me for some reason). This time will most likely be spent pseudo-prepping for bio/college/English/whatever else, and I will most likely be spending the pseudo-prepping time reacquainting with old friends.
I'm skeptical on internet access for the next week (or, for that matter, my amount of "free" time), so I won't be able to tell you in detail about my Penn-Swat-Princeton visit (or revisit, for Princeton), and how much I absolutely fell in love with Penn despite the rainstorm (walking into the Wharton building is rather awe-inspiring and breath-taking all at once, although the two often complement each other). Nor will I, for that matter, be able to keep up with blogs and comments (I'm sorry, Julie, I've been meaning to comment on your blog for a while now and I haven't found the chance yet), or my daily comic binge, which is rather sad, but I will deal with that (hopefully).
(I will also not be able to converse at length with Reese over his convictions that I should go to Swat, although he prefers Penn over Swat himself. That may or may not be a loss. I'm not sure.)
Most depressingly, I will probably miss the AP scores letter (I know I can call, but I'd rather not do that since it's way too suspenseful), delay my story until unknown times and depths, and not be able to vote on a senior girl shirt slogan/design. I will have to leave that to my (mostly) trustworthy fellow classmates.
