Dear Rejection

Thank you for accepting ******'s application. She appreciates all your hard work in skimming over her application, laughing maniacally while crushing her dreams beneath your heel, and hating your job. Unfortunately, she will not be admitted to your university, because you have rejected her and she rejects you.

She knows that you can't take all students no matter how average they look on paper and how most of them are too well-rounded individually for you to make a well-rounded class and how they are all amazing talented students. But as you know, ****** can only go to so many colleges (1) and while yours is a reputable institution of higher learning you may not fit her needs as expressed by your admissions committee. ****** believes that with your shameless mail advertising, pricey application fee, and dismally low acceptance rate, you will surely find a student who is worthy to attend your university.

Please do not attempt to contact ****** to ask about why you were rejected or why you rejected her. The answers to both questions is a giant expletive which can be translated as "I don't know. Leave me alone. You are fecal matter and the spawn of a female canine." If she tried to explain why you were rejected, well...she'd be speechless. That would never happen by the way, because she is currently too busy applying to other schools, including your rival. She's mad now, but she'll get over it, quicker than you can send an "incomplete app" notification.

As you know, ****** has hundreds of colleges to choose from who are probably just as good or better than you in many ways, but remember that she'll definitely take a holistic approach in considering these schools- rankings, housing, dining, location, financial aid....all of these are taken into equal consideration. exceptforrankingbecauseshewantstogotoafamousschoolnotsomerandomplaceinthemiddleofnowhere

So don't be sad! Cheer up! Even though ****** rejected you, it doesn't mean you are a bad school. As a highly sought-after applicant, you can expect that she is selective and can't go to just any school. You are sure to find great students to attend your school even though none of them can or ever will be ******, who is not bitter and you shouldn't be either.

Sincerely,

Former Applicant

Dear Essay

Please stop making me feel dumb.

I know how to write. I learned my grammar, my spelling, my rhetorical devices, and even my vocabulary (although my vocabulary could be easily learned by any fourth grader). I even know that it is not correct to use contractions in formal writing, and I also know that "utilize" is overly pretentious and pedantic, though not quite as overly pretentious as "pedantic". I do not use obscenities, nor do I talk about crude topics. I also know that passive sentences ruin an essay, and an essay is improved by active voice.

What I do not know is what to write about. The advice I find says to write in my own voice, expressing my own ideas. But the problem is that I do not care much for my voice. I am not a big fan of what I have to say. Of course, I do not have much to go on, since I do not write much. But I do not have much confidence in using my own voice. I can not trust what it might do. For example, my voice might rant about how unfair it is that untalented teenagers can be pop idols while the talented ones are forced to blog about their miserable existences. Or it might lecture about how nice shiny objects are.

I like other people's voices. They are more articulate and predictable. I can trust them to state their ideas eloquently, yet concisely. They have impeccable diction and a unique perspective to share. I know enough about my voice to classify it as boring and uninteresting and unoriginal. I am like the first half of a friendship. I can establish common ground and prove myself to be normal (as opposed to a lunatic or maniac). But the other voices are like the second half: sharing interesting bits of themselves and creating a dynamic relationship. And then there is the mathematically incorrect third half when the friendship transforms into knowing the other person better than yourself to the point where even telepathy seems too predictable. I am not sure where this is going, but that is really what my voice sounds like.

But let us pretend I was to write you in my own voice. My voice tends to complain, rather than praise. So I will pick an appropriate topic, for example, "The Noise when a Plate is Scraped by a Fork". Ah, wait. That is passive. The topic shall be "The Noise when a Fork Scrapes a Plate". Better. Now I need to decide what I want to say about this topic. "The Noise when a Fork Scrapes a Plate" is annoying, frustrating, torturous, futile, abominable, and very very loud at awkward dinner gatherings that are already quite unpleasant. Now, I might continue the essay, but probably not. My voice will most likely decide to complain about the essay to friends, family, and the unlucky stranger for a few days before continuing to write. Then, in a midnight second wind, the essay will be hastily finished with numerous typos, a pathetic conclusion, and a sense of despair. The essay will be an elaboration on the theme "The Noise when a Fork Scrapes a Plate Displeases Me" with little significance or meaning to anyone. Although I do believe that many people would sympathize with it and send me packets of plastic forks to ease the pain.

Please help me help you. I know you want to be written and sent off to fancy journals, colleges, and teachers's desks. But I really can't do that if you make me complain before I write. The only solution I can think of is writing about complaints. So that's all I'll do, until someone or something teaches me otherwise. Complaining blogger, out.

Dear College Admissions

THIS IS NOT AN ESSAY. But if you'll be so kind, please keep reading. It's late July and college applications are far from my mind. Well, that's a lie. I've been thinking about them every waking moment, but...not so much about starting them. Sure, I'll put down my name and address (because that's all you'll need to send my acceptance letter), but I'm not ready to tell you much more.

But I'm supposed to tell you what ME thinks about ME, right? I think that's the hardest part.

I could give you a description of myself, but that might not help much except if I were an athlete with rippling muscles or a person who has survived physical hardship or a very lucky person who was born with some useful extra arms. (This is no joke; I think extra arms would be very practical. Ice cream, piano, and texting all at once? Yes, please!) Plus, you might already know some of it...the government wants to know my ethnicity right? I hope filling in all the bubbles gave them a pretty clear idea. Might as well cover all the bases, just in case.

Oh, not a physical description? I knew that was too easy.

I could tell you something significant that happened to me. I've only bought one lottery ticket my entire life, but I didn't win, so I refused to buy any more. I ate at McDonald's AFTER seeing"Supersize Me" and was unfazed...until I remembered seeing that documentary. I accidentally got a Facebook: a testament to my computer savviness. I got on the wrong bus once, and I ended up riding around for a very comfortable air-conditioned hour. I cried when I saw "The Adventures of Elmo in Grouchland".

Let me clarify: those were significant to ME. So, um, if you don't like 'em...tough trousers.

I could tell you about someone who made a difference in my life and why. It involves quite a few people. Well, actually there are two people. One is a man and the other is a woman. Oh, and there was a bird.

Since the man and woman loved each other very much, an angel paged a stork. The stork said, "Ah! They must want a baby!". So he flew up into the clouds and thought to himself, "I must bring them the most beautiful, talented, intelligent baby there is, since they love each other so much!". But it was a very busy day up in the clouds, so like concert tickets, fresh doughnuts, and prom dates, most of the good ones were already taken. The stork looked around in dismay. "What shall I bring them now?" He started rummaging around some cumulus swirls and happened upon a little baby stuck in the back. He was amazed by what he found. "Why, this baby is surely a gem! But why was it stuck in the back?" You see, storks never go to grocery stores, so they have never learned to always take from the back. Wrapping up the precious baby in a white blanket, he gently glided towards the man and woman's home.

He arrived at a very quiet, dark house. He tapped lightly on the door, but no one answered. He tapped louder. The stork was getting impatient and he had a newborn baby on his hands. He stood there, tapping the door with his beak, until he looked like a desperate overgrown woodpecker. He might have stayed there all night, but luckily a neighbor groggily informed him that the couple was at the hospital. The stork flew as swiftly as he could. He met the couple in a white room filled with people in masks and gloves. The couple looked worried and pained. The people in masks also seemed concerned. "Wow," he thought when he saw everyone. "They must really want this baby. Especially that woman. She looks positively awful!" The stork plopped the baby on the woman's lap. The man and woman looked upon the newborn with happiness and adoration. The baby gave a loud cry, probably confused after napping in the clouds. But the couple was happy, oh so happy. The baby was happy too, but as a newborn, the baby wasn't aware of it yet. They thanked the stork, but he was already gone. The stork did a couple back flips in the sky, a little victory twirl after a job well done. The angel smiled. It was the beginning of another beautiful life, another beautiful story.

So that's the story of how my little brother was born. He's alright, I guess.

Hope you enjoyed the preview! I hope the next time I send you something (or when I actually send you something) you'll want to hear more. Till then, think fondly on those students who are really trying their hardest to get into college.

Sincerely,

Anxious Blogger