Personal Notes

Please God, let me in. Just let me in. Get my mother off my back.

I can't think of any "significant experiences, achievements, or risks taken" because nothing's ever happened to me. I abandoned my diary because I was even boring myself. I would literally write the words "Dear Diary" and begin to nod off! But you have it in your power to make something happen to me. Send me the letter, the fat one with the information on deposits, my roommate assignments, and bicycle storage. Take a chance on me, and I'm sure I'll do something eventually.

And I can't possibly write about "encountering adversity," because the worst adversity I've faced so far was the really bad pimple that emerged on my nose the day of the spring madrigal concert. But isn't that a good thing? Am I to be punished for a comfortable, middle-class existence? (P.S.: The pimple was at the very end of my nose
so I looked like the Wicked Witch of the West minus the black, the broom, and the little dog.)

Describe my "values, goals, experiences, talents, style." I mean, how long have you got? (Just kidding.) I will only say that, unlike my classmates, I never settled for wearing a hoodie, jeans, and Adidas. We don't have to look at ourselves, other people have to look at us, so isn't it an act of charity to dress stylishly? In this regard, I benefit from the employee discount at Abercrombie and Fitch, where I work part-time. (Please note work ethic. Most of my friends don't even have jobs. They're all like: "Why do you have a job? Wouldn't it be more fun not to have a job?")

As far as a person who has had a "significant influence on me," that would probably be my mother, but in this case, significant does not mean good. Every time she comes home from a dinner party, she reminds me that so-and-so is training to be a wilderness guide in Alaska, or that someone is working on an organic farm in Morocco or doing dressage. Not to throw myself a pity party, but I've been running myself ragged with extracurricular activities which my mother practically mandated. When I expressed a slight reluctance to continue with the Debate Club, she was all like, "Go ahead. Quit. You can always go to cosmetology school." Har-de-har-har.

You let Dennis Hiram in early admission, and no offense but he's kind of a jerk. That combined score of 1600 on the SATs doesn't tell the whole story. Example: he asked my friend Kelly to the homecoming dance and then withdrew the invitation when she cut her hair short, saying, and I quote, that he "wasn't into girls with short hair." Not only that, but he went on to ask another girl, who also had short hair, which makes him a complete and total LIAR! I mean. Let me in.

You might be wondering why I'd want to go to the same school as Dennis Hiram, but I wanted to go to Kenyon way before Dennis even applied. In fact, I'm the one who gave him the idea to apply. Because he was all like, "I don't care where I go, where should I go?" (I mean, seriously, he's about as deep as an ice tray.) And I told him: "Apply to Kenyon. It's a small liberal-arts college, with a strong faculty and a tight-knit community."

Is it my fault that Kenyon is one of the "hot schools" and super-selective now? Is it my fault that all the baby boomers decided to spawn at exactly the same time? Is it my fault there's like this digitally mastered army of college applicants? I've wanted to go to Kenyon forever, ever since I visited my sister's friend Helen and there was this party in the New Apartments where I hooked up with this . . . I mean, it just affirmed my desire to attend a small liberal-arts college with a strong faculty and a tight-knit

I admit that I was a little disappointed to discover there's no skiing nearby, and that the nearest city is like seven hours away, unless you count Columbus, which I don't, or Cleveland, which I double-don't. And ideally, the drama department would do more musicals and I wouldn't have to take the old-book courses in the English department, but whatever.

Between you and me, once I get that letter--which by now, I hope you've decided to send me since my life will totally suck if you don't--I'm going to quit everything and sleep late, read nothing but the J. Crew catalog, go to the tanning bed, and veg . . . I mean, just to mentally prepare myself to start classes at a small liberal-arts school, with a strong faculty and a tight-knit

And a single would be nice.

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