Alright, so that subject line doesn't directly connect with the entry, but I feel as it is a new year, we can buck tradition, maybe just this once.

(The indirect connection, for all you Firefly fans, is that just as River is filled with abject fear at the thought of her captors, so am I at the thought of finally sitting down and finishing these personal statements.)

I'm sitting in an abnormally noisy Starbucks, surrounded by the din of espresso machines, blenders, and the thickly-accented voices of immigrant tech workers. There is an odd fellowship of middle-aged high-tech employees fresh out of work for the day and ever-younger-looking teenagers wasting away the last days of winter vacation. Though I am sandwiched between these two groups in age, I feel largely out of place: a stranger in a strange land; a shadow pressed between light and matter.

And what does it matter--the words on this screen, faithfully reproduced to fragile paper? What does it matter? It matters immensely. Every word--every inkblot hemorrhage on that sterile-white sheet--will be scrutinized, interpreted like a Rorschach test of my seriousness and commitment to advanced study.

It is so important to me that my statement be perfectly clear and accurately reflective of my intentions that out of the entire application and all it involves--the GRE scores, the grades, even the letters of recommendation--I am most petrified that my statement will let me down. Even with my somewhat lackluster at times undergraduate performance.

Sigh.

I hope this thing turns out well...

Must've been deafeningly loud then, I've never been to a Starbucks that wasn't extremely noisy before...
» randomjunk on 2008-01-03 04:59:32

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