julia22rose
Dec 27, 2011
Undergraduate / 'doomed to be a work in progress' - Pomona supplements [3]
"What experience in high school has mattered most and how will this affect your experience in college?"
I've decided that a mandatory book for every person entering freshman year is 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower', by Steven Chbosky. It is a guide for the awkward person floating from group to group, second-guessing herself at every turn. If it is not already obvious, I envisage myself at fourteen when I read the book. I made situations go from bad to worse, and every cry for help I uttered either went unheard or snowballed into an avalanche completely out of my hands.
My freshman year was by no means easy. In fact, it was utter hell. Maybe that's why it is the most valuable for me in regards to learning experience. Middle school was easy for me. I floated under the radar of adults as an above average student who devoted her time to classical ballet, cello, and reading. I never really pushed myself, and I never let anyone push me. When I tried to get into the same prestigious private high school as my sister, Phillips Andover Academy, I think that my lack of effort made it evident I was not a candidate for the school.
Feeling empty handed and inadequate, I attended the local public high school, Marblehead High. To this day, I like to brag that I am the only Pingeton child to attend public school for my whole education (despite it is not entirely true, as I went to a private year abroad program, a detail I rarely include). Everyday, I looked in the mirror at my braces, my limp brown hair, and the myriad of freckles that stood out on every occasion. I hated myself, in simple terms.
The first boyfriend I had was a year older than me, and he was much more experienced in every respect. I was already lonely, and I did whatever I could to please him at my own slow and painful detriment. I let my best friend walk all over me, and eventually she stole that boyfriend that I had given what felt like everything. My sadness fractured all aspects of my life. I lost weight rapidly, I stopped progressing in ballet, my grades slipped, and I got suspended from school. The winter of that year was absolutely terrible.
As the spring came, the braces came off. I called that ex-boyfriend's mother and told her if he ever laid a hand on me again or dared to call me, I'd have a restraining order placed on him. I finished on high honor roll my last quarter of freshman year, and I ate heartily again. As a result, my hair turned curly and full of body from the sudden infusion of nutrients. I decided to color it red, to match with my freckles.
Transformations are terrifying. We are inclined to reject change, no matter how positive. Even though I like to brag about it now, I felt inferior as the only kid in public school. I felt like an idiot when I got caught my first time drinking. I felt like the only girl in the yearbook with stupid wire mesh on my teeth. I felt like my freshman year English teacher hated me. Last year, I was on a program of people primarily from private schools, a large handful came from Phillips Academy Andover. People were pleasantly surprised that I came from a public school. Many people in my school have had severe car accidents after drinking and driving. My teeth are straighter than anyone in my family's now thanks to the retainers I still wear every night. And now, I have Ms. Todd again as my English teacher for AP Literature. Sometimes, I still think she hates me. But even she cannot hold me back nor deny my progress.
I could go on for pages about all the lessons I learned that year. But I think this is most important: I am forever doomed to be a work in progress, but that is what makes humanity so beautiful. There is no threshold that I can reach, no invisible ceiling that my head will hit. I can grow forever, and since I've already hit my rock bottom, I know that my growth will be exponential from here on out. The worst year of my life is over and done, and now I embrace the future with open arms. I am ready for anything college has to throw at me. I won't be the girl to pass out drunk on campus, and I'll make sure none of my friends will be either. I won't let anyone walk all over me ever again. I will never let my distractions get in the way of my grades. Pomona, I'm ready for anything you have to throw at me.
"Tell us about something that is just plain fun outside of your extra-curricular and academic life."
I met my best friend, Vanessa Popeo, when I was about three at preschool. The first time we met, we chatted endlessly and had the usual discourse that children of our age had. Did I mention the fact that we met because we were both in the time out corner? Well, needless to say we were meant to be best friends from the first day. We've grown up with each other since then, through a divorce, an affair, various break-ups, concerts, camping trips, and so much more. One of our traditional rituals used to be hanging my sister's underwear out the window when my older brother's friends would come over. Needless to say, we never lost the edge of the time out corner.
At the Liberty Tree Mall on a cold Saturday night, there is literally nothing to do but sit with soup and make faces at people. That's what we do, at any rate. Vanessa's birthday was on December 13th, and it is currently December 17th. We've exhausted our Christmas shopping, and neither of us has any desire to socialize and act like normal people, leaving us very few options. The past hour, we've sat at a Panera Bread, looking at people through the window with alarming expressions, bursting out in laughter after each one.
"HEY! Guess what!" She bolts her head up from where it was resting, staring at some poor soul with the expression of a sad bass. "We're both eighteen as of four days ago!"
"Yeah...so what you want to go to a strip club? 'Cause I'm definitely not okay with that..."
"No, let's do something else. I don't know buy scratch tickets or something? Wait, can I see your phone for a sec?"
I let her use the smart phone to search the Internet, with mild concern as to what I could possibly be roping myself into. Thousands of possibilities go through my head. Are we going to try to steal a lion from the circus? Are we going to go to Chippendale's, the male strip club? I'm shaking by the time she is on the line with the Operator, asking for the number of Pierced Hearts Tattoo Parlor.
About an hour later, I find myself at a tattoo and piercing parlor in the middle of nowhere. The whole experience is starting to feel as surreal as a Dali. The man who is looking at our licenses has an accent I can't place. I'm sure that having an unrecognizable accent is not a quality I want in the man who will be shortly ramming a needle into the cartilage of my nose. It is a shame that one must pay first, then get the piercing. I theorize that this must be how the shop makes its' money.
As we are pulling out of the parking lot to try and get home, I look over at Vanessa.
"So, the GPS in the Jeep is broken..."
We erupt into hysterics and drive until we see road signs. Friends like these are essential in any walk of life, from one time out to the next.
"What experience in high school has mattered most and how will this affect your experience in college?"
I've decided that a mandatory book for every person entering freshman year is 'The Perks of Being a Wallflower', by Steven Chbosky. It is a guide for the awkward person floating from group to group, second-guessing herself at every turn. If it is not already obvious, I envisage myself at fourteen when I read the book. I made situations go from bad to worse, and every cry for help I uttered either went unheard or snowballed into an avalanche completely out of my hands.
My freshman year was by no means easy. In fact, it was utter hell. Maybe that's why it is the most valuable for me in regards to learning experience. Middle school was easy for me. I floated under the radar of adults as an above average student who devoted her time to classical ballet, cello, and reading. I never really pushed myself, and I never let anyone push me. When I tried to get into the same prestigious private high school as my sister, Phillips Andover Academy, I think that my lack of effort made it evident I was not a candidate for the school.
Feeling empty handed and inadequate, I attended the local public high school, Marblehead High. To this day, I like to brag that I am the only Pingeton child to attend public school for my whole education (despite it is not entirely true, as I went to a private year abroad program, a detail I rarely include). Everyday, I looked in the mirror at my braces, my limp brown hair, and the myriad of freckles that stood out on every occasion. I hated myself, in simple terms.
The first boyfriend I had was a year older than me, and he was much more experienced in every respect. I was already lonely, and I did whatever I could to please him at my own slow and painful detriment. I let my best friend walk all over me, and eventually she stole that boyfriend that I had given what felt like everything. My sadness fractured all aspects of my life. I lost weight rapidly, I stopped progressing in ballet, my grades slipped, and I got suspended from school. The winter of that year was absolutely terrible.
As the spring came, the braces came off. I called that ex-boyfriend's mother and told her if he ever laid a hand on me again or dared to call me, I'd have a restraining order placed on him. I finished on high honor roll my last quarter of freshman year, and I ate heartily again. As a result, my hair turned curly and full of body from the sudden infusion of nutrients. I decided to color it red, to match with my freckles.
Transformations are terrifying. We are inclined to reject change, no matter how positive. Even though I like to brag about it now, I felt inferior as the only kid in public school. I felt like an idiot when I got caught my first time drinking. I felt like the only girl in the yearbook with stupid wire mesh on my teeth. I felt like my freshman year English teacher hated me. Last year, I was on a program of people primarily from private schools, a large handful came from Phillips Academy Andover. People were pleasantly surprised that I came from a public school. Many people in my school have had severe car accidents after drinking and driving. My teeth are straighter than anyone in my family's now thanks to the retainers I still wear every night. And now, I have Ms. Todd again as my English teacher for AP Literature. Sometimes, I still think she hates me. But even she cannot hold me back nor deny my progress.
I could go on for pages about all the lessons I learned that year. But I think this is most important: I am forever doomed to be a work in progress, but that is what makes humanity so beautiful. There is no threshold that I can reach, no invisible ceiling that my head will hit. I can grow forever, and since I've already hit my rock bottom, I know that my growth will be exponential from here on out. The worst year of my life is over and done, and now I embrace the future with open arms. I am ready for anything college has to throw at me. I won't be the girl to pass out drunk on campus, and I'll make sure none of my friends will be either. I won't let anyone walk all over me ever again. I will never let my distractions get in the way of my grades. Pomona, I'm ready for anything you have to throw at me.
"Tell us about something that is just plain fun outside of your extra-curricular and academic life."
I met my best friend, Vanessa Popeo, when I was about three at preschool. The first time we met, we chatted endlessly and had the usual discourse that children of our age had. Did I mention the fact that we met because we were both in the time out corner? Well, needless to say we were meant to be best friends from the first day. We've grown up with each other since then, through a divorce, an affair, various break-ups, concerts, camping trips, and so much more. One of our traditional rituals used to be hanging my sister's underwear out the window when my older brother's friends would come over. Needless to say, we never lost the edge of the time out corner.
At the Liberty Tree Mall on a cold Saturday night, there is literally nothing to do but sit with soup and make faces at people. That's what we do, at any rate. Vanessa's birthday was on December 13th, and it is currently December 17th. We've exhausted our Christmas shopping, and neither of us has any desire to socialize and act like normal people, leaving us very few options. The past hour, we've sat at a Panera Bread, looking at people through the window with alarming expressions, bursting out in laughter after each one.
"HEY! Guess what!" She bolts her head up from where it was resting, staring at some poor soul with the expression of a sad bass. "We're both eighteen as of four days ago!"
"Yeah...so what you want to go to a strip club? 'Cause I'm definitely not okay with that..."
"No, let's do something else. I don't know buy scratch tickets or something? Wait, can I see your phone for a sec?"
I let her use the smart phone to search the Internet, with mild concern as to what I could possibly be roping myself into. Thousands of possibilities go through my head. Are we going to try to steal a lion from the circus? Are we going to go to Chippendale's, the male strip club? I'm shaking by the time she is on the line with the Operator, asking for the number of Pierced Hearts Tattoo Parlor.
About an hour later, I find myself at a tattoo and piercing parlor in the middle of nowhere. The whole experience is starting to feel as surreal as a Dali. The man who is looking at our licenses has an accent I can't place. I'm sure that having an unrecognizable accent is not a quality I want in the man who will be shortly ramming a needle into the cartilage of my nose. It is a shame that one must pay first, then get the piercing. I theorize that this must be how the shop makes its' money.
As we are pulling out of the parking lot to try and get home, I look over at Vanessa.
"So, the GPS in the Jeep is broken..."
We erupt into hysterics and drive until we see road signs. Friends like these are essential in any walk of life, from one time out to the next.