The Years Are Short, But The Days Are Long

I hate the University of Michigan's web application. I hate all applications right now, actually, as I tend to get about two pages in before the voice in my head starts saying "you're not actually going there, why are you wasting your time and money? Go for a walk! Go to the art museum! You know you're going to OSU or UVA anyway, so why bother with this shit?"

Although I have typed "university" somewhere around 75 times in the past few days, it still has a 50% chance of coming out "univeristy." I still randomly type "you" when I mean "out" or vice versa. Although I have a pretty high typing rate, the frequency at which garbage comes out of my fingers is pretty high too. I cannot get used to the fact that I must enter dates month-day-year, rather than the more logical day-month-year. (the date is such a shaky concept for me anyway) I cannot remember that each time I enter a state where I have lived/worked/been educated/asked for a recommendation I cannot type it in, I must click a link from a pop-up.

My keyboard is filthy, due to my inability to keep my promise not to eat while I work at my computer. It disgusts me, and yet I don't have time to clean it, nor do I have space to pop all the keys off and q-tip them, as my desk is covered in GRE score reports, printed recommendation forms, and post-its to remind me not to forget to send my transcripts to places I am applying.

My eye fatigue is now at the point where I cannot even type my own name properly. I used to have quite a bit more stamina when it came to staring into computer screens. Something about taking a poetry class where I wrote everything in unlined notebooks with waterproof pens has broken me of doing anything lengthy at the computer other than simulations and the occasional email.

I can't remember the names of any of the programs to which I am applying. They all have the word "molecule" in them. They are basically a means to my right to be called "Doctor" and make money at a place which is not a college. I intend to get out of academia as soon as possible.

Statement of Purpose. Fuck. I'm out of ticky boxes. I love ticky boxes. I hate admissions essays. They're always either frustratingly open-ended or demonically specific, or both. I remember one application that simply had a 9"x10" box and instructions that said "fill this with anything you think we might like." I ended up writing a piece of music. I didn't get in. I'm glad Caltech admissions never makes mistakes. Getting my dream turned down surprisingly left me uncrushed. I came to Case. It was the right decision.

There is still a woman out there who believes that Severus Snape is real, watches over her, and someday will reincarnate her in a form in which they can truly love one another.