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Nutshell Kingdom: Personal Statement
2005
Dear Big-Time University,
I've been giving a lot of thought lately to your admissions policy. This is due to the fact that, though I have high test scores, my transcripts objectively suck. There's no reason to sugarcoat it. I'm not embarrassed. Also, if you look at my application, you will notice a stunning lack of what you call "activities." That isn't because I'm inactive (though I certainly am at times), it's because most of my activities aren't really "activities" of the sort I know you're looking for.
It's funny. Today, I was walking home from work and let me tell you, it was very humid. I noticed the film of sweat forming on my forehead and on the small of my back (I was wearing a jacket). The funny part is that only then did I realize that I hadn't showered since Monday. That's right; three days. I just sort of forgot. My mind was on other things. It's not that I was smelly or too dishevelled. I deodorized the hell out of myself every morning and used the really nice Burberry aftershave Jayne gave me. I was presentable.
Anyway, day three is the day you start to feel dirty. Absolutely. And the funniest part is, I liked it. It gave me a swagger. I felt comfortable, all begrimed and smoky and defiant.
The point of that story is that I like my weird absent-mindedness and my shambling self. I really do. The not-showering cuts so much deeper than you might think. I like my ambling about, alone for days at a time. I like not knowing what's for dinner or if I'll even eat dinner at all. I like the mess I'm in, clothes strewn, disarray nipping at my heels. This is my home; it's how I live.
I like the fact that I don't impose myself on anyone but me. Well, maybe some times (but I try very hard not to). I like to smoke when I drive and listen to music loud. I like to eat alone.
Now, let me warn you: I've been told that I'm a pretty decent writer and you may consider admitting me based on that (which would be great!). However, I don't really have any plans to write "The Great American Novel" or anything like that. I'm pretty happy, for now at least, writing for my friends, just little things, and hopefully every few weeks I think of something or remember something that makes them happy or gives them chills or, even better, makes them proud. You see, I love my friends and making them proud makes me very happy. You, on the other hand... well, you're a college, an achievement, a potential paycheck, impersonal, an abstraction. I can't really make you proud. All I could do is donate to the alumni fund and get my name posted on some building one day (Gift of ...). I'm warning you that that doesn't really do it for me.
I don't want you to think I'm getting all self-righteous. I've done my share of wrongs. I've been very very bad at times. I've been vain and stubborn and cold and disloyal and selfish more times than I tell you about, and while I am actively and constantly trying to correct those flaws; I know that I am not vain and stubborn and cold and disloyal and selfish. No sir/ma'am, I'm not so bad.
So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that I have, for 34 years, not been trying to impress you. There's nothing wrong with you; your prestige speaks for itself. But 34 years is a good amount of time to take stock of one's self and I feel like I'm just fine, regardless of my transcripts and lack of quantifiable activities. It's gotten me this far and I like where I'm at. A lot.
There's a lot of kids out there who would kill to be admitted to your fine university and I am sure that they have worked their butts off to do just the sort of things that would look favorable to your admissions board. And maybe you should give them a look. Perhaps they want it more. They certainly seem eager.
And as for me: keep me in mind. It couldn't hurt.
I would go on for a lot longer but there's a whole world out there for me to amble about in, in my (to your eyes) ridiculous way. Plus, I've got to get a shower. I'm probably starting to reek.
