tyrants," my dad said.
"Notice that I merely say what you've done and you conclude you're being tyrannical," I pointed out. In debate we learned the best way to win an argument is to let the other side get tied up by its own logic; in the case of my parents, it was almost too easy.
105
"The point your mother and I are trying to make..." my dad started to say.
I picked up my plate. It was time to bring out the heavy artillery.
"You know, I wish I could talk about this more," I said. "But I have a really big test tomorrow, and I'd better get cracking."
The day parents stop falling for the whole gotta-study-for-my-big-test-tomorrow routine is going to be an ugly one for teenagers everywhere.
When I got upstairs and saw the pile of college applications that lay on my green rug, I was forced to admit to myself the process was going "fine" only in the sense that nothing had actually happened and, therefore, nothing had yet gone wrong. Sitting at my tiny metal desk, I vowed to use my new incentive (the registration line, the shy smile, I had no idea you were a student here... ) to finish my Wesleyan application tout de suite.
"What unique qualities could you contribute to the Wesleyan community?"
Well, that should be easy enough. What unique qualities could I contribute to the Wesleyan community? I started typing.
I have many unique qualities that I could contribute to the Wesleyan community. For example, I...
Sadly, nothing was coming immediately to mind. Perhaps I needed to be a bit more savvy, approach the essay from an entirely different angle. A little self-deprecation would help the admissions committee see I
106
was not one of those slightly-above-average applicants with an ego ten times the size of her GPA.
There are many unique qualities I could not contribute to the Wesleyan community.
Ha! That was certainly a unique opening.
For example, I do not speak a foreign language, and I have no athletic ability. I have never had the lead in a school play. I am incapable of mastering a musical instrument and can't dance....
This was a little too easy. How profoundly depressing is it to realize at the advanced age of seventeen you actually have no unique qualities to contribute to anything?
I started again.
I am certainly a unique applicant who would contribute a great deal to the Wesleyan community. For example, I regularly spend hours in a special fantasy world that bears no relationship whatsoever to reality....
"Jan, phone's for you." No doubt it was Rebecca, eager to share more details of her upcoming romantic evening with Brian. I could see it already: Rebecca accepted at Brown, jetting off to Paris for a weekend with her older lover. Me, rejected everywhere, sitting at home with my parents night after night listening as my father invented opera lyrics.
"Hello?"
"Jan?" An unfamiliar male voice.
"Yes?"
"It's Tom."
"Hi." Why was this happening to me? I dug my nails into my arm like I do at the dentist, hoping the pain
107
would erase the memory of Tom trying to suck on my neck.
"You haven't been in history the last couple of days."
"Yeah, I know. I went to some college information sessions." Actually, I'd meant to go to the sessions, but then Rebecca and I just went to Starbucks instead. It was probably good that I was getting so familiar with the Starbucks menu since I'd need to get a job there after being rejected from every college I applied to.
"Oh. How were they?"
"Informational."
"Well, that's good." The nail-digging trick wasn't working as well as it does at Dr. Monroe's. When I let go of my arm there was a line of purple half-moons on the inside of my wrist, but the memory of Tom's saliva was still as powerful as ever.
Tom cleared his throat. "The thing is, I was wondering if, ah..."
I had a very bad feeling about where his sentence was heading. "Um, Tom, I have to go."
"What?"
"I have to go." I racked my brain for any legitimate-sounding reason I might have to suddenly get off the
"Notice that I merely say what you've done and you conclude you're being tyrannical," I pointed out. In debate we learned the best way to win an argument is to let the other side get tied up by its own logic; in the case of my parents, it was almost too easy.
105
"The point your mother and I are trying to make..." my dad started to say.
I picked up my plate. It was time to bring out the heavy artillery.
"You know, I wish I could talk about this more," I said. "But I have a really big test tomorrow, and I'd better get cracking."
The day parents stop falling for the whole gotta-study-for-my-big-test-tomorrow routine is going to be an ugly one for teenagers everywhere.
When I got upstairs and saw the pile of college applications that lay on my green rug, I was forced to admit to myself the process was going "fine" only in the sense that nothing had actually happened and, therefore, nothing had yet gone wrong. Sitting at my tiny metal desk, I vowed to use my new incentive (the registration line, the shy smile, I had no idea you were a student here... ) to finish my Wesleyan application tout de suite.
"What unique qualities could you contribute to the Wesleyan community?"
Well, that should be easy enough. What unique qualities could I contribute to the Wesleyan community? I started typing.
I have many unique qualities that I could contribute to the Wesleyan community. For example, I...
Sadly, nothing was coming immediately to mind. Perhaps I needed to be a bit more savvy, approach the essay from an entirely different angle. A little self-deprecation would help the admissions committee see I
106
was not one of those slightly-above-average applicants with an ego ten times the size of her GPA.
There are many unique qualities I could not contribute to the Wesleyan community.
Ha! That was certainly a unique opening.
For example, I do not speak a foreign language, and I have no athletic ability. I have never had the lead in a school play. I am incapable of mastering a musical instrument and can't dance....
This was a little too easy. How profoundly depressing is it to realize at the advanced age of seventeen you actually have no unique qualities to contribute to anything?
I started again.
I am certainly a unique applicant who would contribute a great deal to the Wesleyan community. For example, I regularly spend hours in a special fantasy world that bears no relationship whatsoever to reality....
"Jan, phone's for you." No doubt it was Rebecca, eager to share more details of her upcoming romantic evening with Brian. I could see it already: Rebecca accepted at Brown, jetting off to Paris for a weekend with her older lover. Me, rejected everywhere, sitting at home with my parents night after night listening as my father invented opera lyrics.
"Hello?"
"Jan?" An unfamiliar male voice.
"Yes?"
"It's Tom."
"Hi." Why was this happening to me? I dug my nails into my arm like I do at the dentist, hoping the pain
107
would erase the memory of Tom trying to suck on my neck.
"You haven't been in history the last couple of days."
"Yeah, I know. I went to some college information sessions." Actually, I'd meant to go to the sessions, but then Rebecca and I just went to Starbucks instead. It was probably good that I was getting so familiar with the Starbucks menu since I'd need to get a job there after being rejected from every college I applied to.
"Oh. How were they?"
"Informational."
"Well, that's good." The nail-digging trick wasn't working as well as it does at Dr. Monroe's. When I let go of my arm there was a line of purple half-moons on the inside of my wrist, but the memory of Tom's saliva was still as powerful as ever.
Tom cleared his throat. "The thing is, I was wondering if, ah..."
I had a very bad feeling about where his sentence was heading. "Um, Tom, I have to go."
"What?"
"I have to go." I racked my brain for any legitimate-sounding reason I might have to suddenly get off the
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