I wrote Jeremi's MIT essay for him
Life brings many disappointments as well as satisfactions. Tell us about a time in your life when you experienced disappointment, or faced difficult or trying circumstances. How did you react?
The biggest disappointment I have ever faced was my early decision rejection from the California Institute of Technology. I did everything I was supposed to-I filled out the CSS profile along with my application, I had four people proofread my essays. Going to Cal Tech was my dream, and two weeks ago I had it crushed before me.
After making sure that the letter was correct and that I had been, indeed, rejected-it was hard to get through to their admissions office on a Saturday night, but I managed-I did what I would be expected to do. I don’t remember anything past the sixth beer. I woke up the next morning with a noose around my neck, lying next to a Swedish hooker. I was somewhere in Los Angeles-a long way from my home in Clovis, New Mexico, but very close to the dream that had been burned before my very eyes.
I did what any potential MIT student would do in that situation. After prying Sven, the hooker, off of me, I took a Taxi to Pasadena. I went to the Cal Tech admissions office with a tank of propane and a couple of lighters.
I remain permanently scarred from the events that ensued and, the next day, was put into therapy after attempting to hang myself in the jail cell. I was moved to a mental institution in Albuquerque and was given exactly what, at that point in time, I needed: An application to MIT.
It was my turn to take initiative, and I attacked the application, ready to attempt to get into the second best college in the world. It was hard, but I managed to fill out the entire thing before I attempted to make myself so thirsty that I died. I woke up, again, in a hospital, with my throat parched and a drip in my arm. The nurses told me I had been talking in my sleep-something about how I would never be second best and that I would never go to MIT, even if they accepted me. I could not accept the rejection letter-it haunted me like some kind of ghoul.
Feeling alone and forlorn, I forced myself, again, to fill out the MIT application. I knew that I had to, somehow, get over that disappointment and do what I had to do-accept myself as a second-rate student that can only find himself where he belongs-at a second rate college.
The biggest disappointment I have ever faced was my early decision rejection from the California Institute of Technology. I did everything I was supposed to-I filled out the CSS profile along with my application, I had four people proofread my essays. Going to Cal Tech was my dream, and two weeks ago I had it crushed before me.
After making sure that the letter was correct and that I had been, indeed, rejected-it was hard to get through to their admissions office on a Saturday night, but I managed-I did what I would be expected to do. I don’t remember anything past the sixth beer. I woke up the next morning with a noose around my neck, lying next to a Swedish hooker. I was somewhere in Los Angeles-a long way from my home in Clovis, New Mexico, but very close to the dream that had been burned before my very eyes.
I did what any potential MIT student would do in that situation. After prying Sven, the hooker, off of me, I took a Taxi to Pasadena. I went to the Cal Tech admissions office with a tank of propane and a couple of lighters.
I remain permanently scarred from the events that ensued and, the next day, was put into therapy after attempting to hang myself in the jail cell. I was moved to a mental institution in Albuquerque and was given exactly what, at that point in time, I needed: An application to MIT.
It was my turn to take initiative, and I attacked the application, ready to attempt to get into the second best college in the world. It was hard, but I managed to fill out the entire thing before I attempted to make myself so thirsty that I died. I woke up, again, in a hospital, with my throat parched and a drip in my arm. The nurses told me I had been talking in my sleep-something about how I would never be second best and that I would never go to MIT, even if they accepted me. I could not accept the rejection letter-it haunted me like some kind of ghoul.
Feeling alone and forlorn, I forced myself, again, to fill out the MIT application. I knew that I had to, somehow, get over that disappointment and do what I had to do-accept myself as a second-rate student that can only find himself where he belongs-at a second rate college.