Belated Birthday

I realized I didn't write about my birthday at all. I have figured out three possible reasons why:

1. I'm lazy. Highly possible.
2. I once read a short story, or read about a short story, of a girl who goes on vacation and obsesses about taking a photo of every moment so she could remember everything. But in the end, she realizes she missed out on her entire vacation. At the end of The Return, the photos of the vacation show everybody but the father. All the boys have as memories of their father is the journal they dutifully kept. Do I want the extant memory of me to be some dumb blog online? Likelihood of this justification indeterminate, as I don't know what I'm talking about. Possibly something about wanting pure, unadulterated memories, though that is obviously impossible according to psychology.
3. I hated my birthday and some Freudian defense mechanism is helping me cope. Unlikely, but how would I know?

In all, it was quite pleasant and by that I mean nothing horrific. Highlight of the day: Avanti dropping the cupcakes. Youtube moment right there. You know there's a cultural shift when "Kodak moment" becomes "Youtube moment."

A Clockwork Orange

My retinas have been permanently sheered with terror by A Clockwork Orange. I will never viddy Singin' in the Rain the same again.

This is the creepiest guy ever.

The Dreamlife of Devils

It is probably proof of my pessimistic nature that my tests in dreams never end well. "Not well" is actually a veritable litotes here; "horrible" and "big fat F" might do these grades more justice. So my strange and nerve-wracking dream about the Hamlet test ended...er...very badly:

It is 8th period, that time for English class again. Crick hands each of us a sheet of paper typed in that typewriter font he favors. As previously discussed, we then head off to the computer lab for some marathon typing. But as we sit down and prepare to log on, we realize there aren't enough computers. In fact, there's only 4 for the entire class of 20 or so. "No problem," exclaims Crick in his sadistically cheerful cadence, "We'll take it orally!"

He proceeds to explain that the we will make our presentations from a 10 ft high, 2 in wide window ledge, which had mysteriously and quite conveniently appeared in the computer lab overnight. So here combined my three greatest fears: extemp speaking, heights, and English analysis. (Ha! Perhaps there is a method to the madness.)

When it comes to my turn, I climb onto the ledge with great difficulty. How I managed to climb up a vertical flat wall is beyond my comprehension. But exhausted by this physical exercise, my brain is not ready to analyze the passage that followed and I stand mouth agape, holding onto that tiny ledge for dear life. Even when I do struggle to say something, my vocal cords are frozen in a constant tremor--no audible sound escapes.

Sneering with disdain at my befuddlement, Crick says, "Fine, you obviously don't know anything. But I'll give you another question. What is one person who influenced you the most?" I continue to stand frozen. He then started throwing me a torrent of college app questions: "Evaluate one book you have read outside of class. What would you bring to this college campus? Tell us something about yourself? What do you think of the New York Times--"

New York Times! Finally something I can answer. I'll just go on about my beloved Manohla "Man" Dargis and A.O. "Tony" Scott. But as I open my mouth to speak, I instead start falling. Down. down. d.o.w.n.

---

The real test went quite all right, though my concept of "all right" seems to have deteriated with my gross overjudgment of my performance on the Medieval Euro test. I shall cross my fingers and hope the best.

HAPPY BURFDAY!

I'm five years old now, and I can beat you up!

First Taste of Rejection

Since it is college application season, my mailbox was once again crammed full with slick college catalogues and the like. But wading through the thick bundle of mail, I came across one envelope that I had been anticipating: Carleton College. In early September, I had applied to a Taste of Carleton program to visit, dine, and room at Carleton for 3 days entirely at their expense. Considering the program was entirely free, I decided to give it a shot and apply. This is their reply. I'll copy it in its entirely because first rejection letters are a milestone in life:

Dear Sarah:

We thank you for your interest in our Taste of Carleton event. Unfortunately, the response to this event was overwhelming and we regret to inform you that we have filled all of the spots available to us for the event. We know this is disappointing news and certainly not what you had hoped to hear.

There were many qualified and talented candidates like you from around the country who presented fine academic records and strong personal qualities. We'd like to strongly encourage you to visit Carleton on another date and utilize our multicultural flight subsidy which covers half the cost of an airline ticket up to $200. Please contact our office determine the best options for you visit.

We wish you the best this fall.

Sincerely,

The TOC Team

I sent in my application semi-late (on the last day of the deadline, but that was really because of school starting dates than my procrastination--for once), but this letter kind of ribbed me anyways. I know that based solely on academic record--or school transcript, as that was all they looked at--I should have gotten in. Of course, if the response really was overwhelming, then 50 people out of a large pool is a very small percentage, and those 50 people definitely were not among the last 50 people to turn it in. Mwwuah, I'm being long and windy and nonsensical.

But quite honestly, I would have never even looked at Carleton if not for this program. Middle-of-Nowhere, Minnesota was, and still is not a very attractive location. Positive spin: Now I know that I'm not applying to Carleton. Alright, 1 college crossed off, 17 to go.