my college essay
I know you. I know your type. I’ve read about you in books about admissions and articles about the same. You’re sitting in your apartment, trying desperately to persevere through the overwhelming stack of applicants who all think they have a chance at making you like them enough to let them into your institution. I also know that all of those poor, poor applicants are dead wrong. I’ve read about it in books! Our essays are what hold us back, I’ve read. We bore you with the same trite cliché about how football gave us a new perspective on the world or that going to another country was an eye-opening experience. As I digested all of these facts, which came from books, some of them even written by your ex-colleagues, I had a revelation: I am going to write a cliché, and you are not going to like it. I’m really sorry about that, because I really wanted to be the one person who writes the essay that makes you sit up and take notice, and maybe even smile.
I’m sorry that I’m not going to be witty or fun and you are not going to like me, as much as you might want to, because of how my essay will be another iteration of the same few topics. I wanted to be that person. I did. But when all of the experts tell me that I’m going to write you pure schlock, what can a boy do? How could I make you sit up and take notice? I thought about what I could do that would be memorable, something that would save the file folder labeled with my name from the pile of rejection.
I finally figured that nothing I could write was going to save me. The experts had spoken, and my dreams of moving you with a paper were just that, dreams. Therein lies the problem: the essay. So, I figured that since the essay I was going to write would be awful, and believe me, I apologize for you having to read it, I could get you to know me in the best way possible, with real human interaction.
That is why I want to invite you, to my house. Bring whoever you’d like and we’ll make it a dinner party! Do you mind if I call you my friend from now on? I’d rather invite a friend over for dinner than some faceless admissions officer. So, my new friend, like I said, any friend of yours is a friend of mine, as the adage goes, so feel free to bring anybody you’d like. Maybe, if you feel so inclined, you might bring an appetizer, possibly some light soup, a small salad, or even a nice rice pilaf, to share with everyone. I assume that you know this will be going to several people, and it might get a bit crowded with a bunch of my new admissions-officer friends, but I’ll do my best to make sure everyone has a good time. I think that this dinner party will be a good way for everyone to get the real feel of how I am, and how I treat people, much better than some silly essay. If you would be so inclined as to RSVP, I would like to have it by April-March, so we could shoot for a late April date. I assume you already have my address from the folder containing all of my college hopes and dreams. Also, I’d like to serve Paul Prudholmme’s Stick Chicken, but if you’d like something more vegetarian-friendly, I can whip up a mean salad, too. I look forward to hearing from you, and would just like to say that the weather in Maine in the spring is a little wet, so galoshes might be advisable. I look forward to meeting you, my new friend, and may you keep well until we meet.
I’m sorry that I’m not going to be witty or fun and you are not going to like me, as much as you might want to, because of how my essay will be another iteration of the same few topics. I wanted to be that person. I did. But when all of the experts tell me that I’m going to write you pure schlock, what can a boy do? How could I make you sit up and take notice? I thought about what I could do that would be memorable, something that would save the file folder labeled with my name from the pile of rejection.
I finally figured that nothing I could write was going to save me. The experts had spoken, and my dreams of moving you with a paper were just that, dreams. Therein lies the problem: the essay. So, I figured that since the essay I was going to write would be awful, and believe me, I apologize for you having to read it, I could get you to know me in the best way possible, with real human interaction.
That is why I want to invite you, to my house. Bring whoever you’d like and we’ll make it a dinner party! Do you mind if I call you my friend from now on? I’d rather invite a friend over for dinner than some faceless admissions officer. So, my new friend, like I said, any friend of yours is a friend of mine, as the adage goes, so feel free to bring anybody you’d like. Maybe, if you feel so inclined, you might bring an appetizer, possibly some light soup, a small salad, or even a nice rice pilaf, to share with everyone. I assume that you know this will be going to several people, and it might get a bit crowded with a bunch of my new admissions-officer friends, but I’ll do my best to make sure everyone has a good time. I think that this dinner party will be a good way for everyone to get the real feel of how I am, and how I treat people, much better than some silly essay. If you would be so inclined as to RSVP, I would like to have it by April-March, so we could shoot for a late April date. I assume you already have my address from the folder containing all of my college hopes and dreams. Also, I’d like to serve Paul Prudholmme’s Stick Chicken, but if you’d like something more vegetarian-friendly, I can whip up a mean salad, too. I look forward to hearing from you, and would just like to say that the weather in Maine in the spring is a little wet, so galoshes might be advisable. I look forward to meeting you, my new friend, and may you keep well until we meet.