twenty days.

So, I vowed never to talk about college admissions again on my poetry blog (unless it was rather significant), and thus the need had to met somehow.

I started a general college process blog with this same name a while ago, but I eventually forgot to update it and veered away from school topics.
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I had my interview on Sunday in an empty Starbucks. I thought I was going to be late, but thankfully everyone on the highway speeds relative to the suggested limit. Oh Mapquest. The delight in proving you wrong.

The interview itself? We neglected to buy drinks and I wasn't able to articulate myself as well as I'd have liked, mais c'est la vie. I enjoyed the entire ordeal, especially finally getting the release of talking about the First Choice openly. More enthusiastic than I've been in a while.

It was the usual questions, but we discussed a variety of things. He gave me more insight on the community there and his own experiences, and I got a majority of my questions answered. The minority that couldn't be answered including how the scene is today and "alllohhmyygosshwillIgetin!" He mentioned Kirkegaard, who is definitely on my philosophy to-read list. Unfortunately, The Community Manifesto and Nicomachean Ethics have been gathering dust since I've started school. I'll have to put the Bible in between the two to keep it in chronological order.

I think the only embarrassing moment was when I discovered I had forgotten the plot to Everything Is Illuminated. If I recall correctly, most of the novel deals with plot sandwiched between Foer's philosophy and humor. At least that's the only reason I truly loved the novel.

My interviewer seemed to be an overall nice, intelligent, and laid back. I kind of wish we had gotten drinks, though. The poor man had a cough.
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Anyway, I've been bracing myself for First Choice rejection. It's the only way I can stop thinking about the decision I will see in twenty days. What are my options if I don't get in? A lot. I will definitely apply to UChicago, UIUC, Columbia, and One That Must Not Be Named. Harvard is really at the bottom of the list and probably will be stricken. MIT is a possibility, but it's not a perfect fit for me and I know it.

Ahh, the First Choice fits. It just fits.
I wrote a rather lengthy blog post on why a while ago, so I won't repeat myself any more.
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It's almost Thanksgiving, and I'm particularly thankful with how unintrusive my parents have been in the past few months of my life. I don't think I would have been able to get anything done if they had transformed into the nagging, hyperinsecure perfectionist hawks that I know some parents become.

These next six days will be a major balancing act of work and play. My whiteboard is filled with things to do and my schedule is filled with people whom I adore. Excellent.

My French teacher mentioned that that state of your living space is a reflection of the state of your life. I think I read a similar article about that sometime in the past, right before I read a piece on why disorganization encourages higher cognitive skills. I suppose the two ideas can go hand in hand--an intelligent person with an extraordinary amount of work to do will not be spending time on the "small things," and will probably have the mental capacity to remember generally where wanted items are.

This is why it drives me crazy when my mother cleans my room randomly, even though it's such a pleasant gesture. She's obsessed with order and frequently comments on my whirlwind of a room (composed of only three things: books, papers, and clothes), so when it comes time for me to do something I can't find what I need. Ah, irony.