September 1, 2012

  • a personal statement

    Wednesday marked the first day of my senior year of undergrad. In many ways, it's an occasion thoroughly unworthy of celebration. I'm twenty-three years old, studying the social sciences at a school known internationally for math and engineering. Getting to my philosophy classes on this campus requires an intricate knowledge of the Fine Arts building, which may pre-date the American Revolution. I've been told more times than I can count (and trust me, I can count to at least sixteen) that I have this crazy amount of potential and I just need to motivate myself to use it.

    The beauty is that I finally, truly, understand that.

    I was a lousy student in high school, despite somehow being asked to join an AP pilot program after my first two quarters. My grades were mediocre but my PSAT scores were top-5 in my grade, so I was given a slot that many others coveted. I preceded to laugh away the significance of high school grades because being the slacker with obvious talent meant that people paid attention to me, and I needed that. It's how I made friends at first, and however shocking this may seem, those relationships didn't exactly last. I dropped below a 2.0 my sophomore year and should have learned my lesson when I had to immediately withdraw from every extra-curricular activity. Instead, I spent the rest of high school hovering barely above the minimum standard necessary to be deemed eligible for the various musicals and clubs that I always seemed to end up running. 

    I spent my senior year of high school directing/producing/partially choreographing (I swear to you) a musical, carrying mock trial to state semifinals, running Model UN all over the east coast to Ivy Leagues and major conferences, and yet I don't think I did a bit of homework that entire year. Beyond that, I was chasing a girl I though existed when in reality I just created this absurd picture of how she needed me. (She didn't). I was voted "most likely to succeed on a college campus" not because I was a good student but because I achieved things (some of them great, if I can say that) in spite of my own incredible stupidity.

    After that, I didn't apply to college because I wouldn't have gotten in anywhere. I went to the local community college and spent the year in a high school relationship (with a wonderful girl, by the way, who is now one of my closest friends - this has nothing to do with her). But that was just a piece of a larger reality that I never really left high school, where I helped run nearly every major event that occurred. I found myself again on academic probation, but this time it was at a community college. You pick the acronym; all applicants can come, any asshole can come - they're all true. Community college is simultaneously an incredibly important institution in the U.S. educational system and a festering shithole of sorority girl nursing dreams. I swear to you, I actually considered changing my focus to the hospitality industry. Not to disparage anyone who works in positions like those (i.e. hotel management, etc) because they're incredibly important (that sounds patronizing but it's really not intended to be) but I've had huge dreams since before I understood what a dream was. I want to change lives, do something right, and die knowing that I won't be forgotten for at least a generation or two. 

    The funny thing is, I don't have a transformational moment. If this was a movie, you'd get pissed off and give it two stars on Netflix (but only because of the one scene with the topless chick). I went through another epic failure when I put life on hold to go to Colorado and work for the summer, only to come crawling home eight days later. It took me a few months, but I started working at a restaurant and applied to two local schools.

    Zach and I got our acceptance letters to UMBC on the same day, but I knew before he did - I logged onto the website and saw the little green "admitted" check next to my name. Both of our packets came the next day. That evening, I sat down with him and asked him if it was ok for me to go to the same school as him. He laughed, said it was a stupid question, and we made plans to get an off-campus apartment. 

    The rest is pretty sappy and boring, but here's the whole reason I'm writing this - it doesn't make much sense. Nothing that anyone told me contributed to my turnaround. I mean that literally - there wasn't a human being on the planet who could have helped me make the ultimate decision to turn things around. That's not to say I didn't have help, because I had more compassion and generosity than a dumb guy like myself could ever dream of deserving. But ultimately, I took a few steps in the right direction. I took them slowly, and I didn't exactly take the most efficient route (to borrow from my navigational skills), but I put one foot in front of the other and walked.

    That's all I'm doing now. I can be awkward, uncertain, goofy, unfunny, strange, and sometimes just a downright pretentious jerk. On the other hand, I like to think I'm loyal, forgiving, and willing to go out of my way to help anyone in need. I'm a guy who wakes up and does my best to walk forward, and I'm fine with that. It's gotten me this far, and I'm confident it's going to get me quite a bit further.