Mini vanity party: So far, I have been accepted to five out of the six schools that I applied to. That is a feat in itself; I'm not a fantastic student, nor am I much of a club person. My record is clean and I live a pretty quiet life. I've never even gotten drunk or sworn over any form of social media. I don't stand out from the lineup.
Mini pity party: Recently, I discovered that my guidance counselor has been sending the wrong transcript to my number one school. Ever heard of Norwich University? Yeah. I REALLY want to go there, and not just because it's a 20/80 girl to guy ratio. I'm interested in the atmosphere and how efficient everything is. The drinking, I'm on the fence about. But this is my favorite school so far and only this morning did my GD manage to send the right one. And by the right one, I mean not the one that I have for my summer program. I've taken several classes over the summer, too, at a program called Upward Bound. They aren't worth anything, but they show that I'm dedicated as a student, so I guess that DOES make me stand out.
But this is serious business. The admissions person at Norwich is someone that I have gotten to know and now that they have my transcript, he told me mother earlier today that he would call me at four this evening with the decision. And you know what time it is now? Six o'clock. So I made pity brownies and we're having pizza for supper. The only upside to this is double-edged: I have no homework, which would normally be a good thing, but it just gives me more time to think about what I'm going to do with my life and my stomach hurts and I'm just pathetic.
It's a fantastic thing that my mother brought home my new depression medication.
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