I watched Avatar tonight and in short, it's one of the most beautiful (visually and otherwise), poignant and powerful films I've seen in my life. As far as I'm concerned, it's the Best Picture of 2009. I probably couldn't do justice to it with one of my reviews, but James Cameron has created a masterpiece, and I'm certain of it folks. Watch it.

Yesterday, my (rather young) cousin came over, so being as I am a believer in the proud literary legacy of Roald Dahl, I decided to pass on some books that I loved when I was his age. I found them in a cupboard the other day and since none of us here at home is free or fortunate enough to be able to spend time reading them, they ought to go to someone who is.

Upon discovering that Roald Dahl’s writings don’t tend towards mystery fiction, my cousin decided to cast them aside in favor of a six-inch bicycle replica that I’ve never quite liked, so I was left with a stack of books to evoke memories of my own childhood experiences with Dahl’s works. And on the last page of Danny and the Champion of the World, I came across this little post-script:

When you grow up
And have children of your own
Do please remember
Something important

A stodgy parent is no fun at all

What a child wants
And deserves
Is a parent who is

SPARKY

You may not believe me, but those words truly warmed my heart. Dear Reader, if you are blessed with children of your own at some point in your life, please do introduce them to the magic that is Roald Dahl.

Once I get past complaining about how uneventful this week has been, I'll probably realize that this has been a rather pleasant couple of days. I'm still busy with applicationish stuff and probably will be till the end of December, but I'm starting to fall into a cycle, which is in some sense comfortable in its repetitiveness, but probably not very sustainable. Not unless I also get accustomed to feelings of extreme boredom and ennui.

I need to spend some time, perhaps walking about Singapore with a camera, relaxing in places outside of my comfortable room and getting used to ten months away from schedules and obligations. I'd love to try a job, perhaps several jobs, things I would've never thought of doing. Maybe I should volunteer. Or pick up a new hobby (or language). Or attempt an ambitious writing project.

Application season has descended upon me in its full glory/fury (mood swings). My Michigan decision has yet to arrive and I'm perpetually worried about the prospect of rejection. But pessimism aside, my apps for Chicago and Columbia are sitting in some happy little place on the other side of the world waiting to be perused by a group of people that I just can't seem to lay a finger on. Indeed admissions officers are probably the biggest enigmas in this entire process. Some seem incredibly (in the genuine sense of the word) jovial, others seem calculatedly cold. Some seem to jump at the change to exchange email, others have yet to respond to concerns I had back in June. I actually think about these things and constantly wonder what admissions folks are like. Other times, I reconsider if I should even attempt to associate admissions officers with any sort of personality at all. If anything, it will simply remind me that my outcomes (I will avoid foraying toward the notion of fate) are subject to preferences and predispositions.

This brings me to the inevitable hell/bliss (mood swings again) of college essays. For several weeks now I have written exclusively in this form and you would think that I would have begun to attain some degree of comfort with the 'art of college essay writing'. The reality is quite the contrary. The time I've invested has only compounded my insecurities leaving me wondering if I will be able to write enough compelling pieces to satisfy each school I'm applying to. At times, it’s hard to figure out what a certain question demands. Other times, it’s hard to figure out how exactly to recycle one essay to fit another prompt. Long story short: admissions essays are hard! And writing incessantly about writing isn’t helping either.

Meanwhile, I’m haunted by a strange mix of self-pity, regret and resolve each time I think about my GPA predicament. I just had to mention that but I shan’t bore you by writing about it. Instead, I’ll lean back and find my way through days of (mostly pointless) rehearsals, college essays, administrative work and TV-show watching. I can only hope that December brings happy news my way.

I'm this close to submitting my Early Decision application to Columbia, and slightly further with my UChicago Early Action application. While it's certainly encouraging to see each app in a close-to-completion state, it's also slightly infuriating that unlike say, a math assignment, perfection is a subjective measure. There are always parts of the application that don't quite feel up to par and even after you've gotten past the writer's block and the inability to decide which parts of your personality are most deserving of limelight, there's always the (justified) worry that an admissions officer might not share your sentiments. This is especially true of my Why Columbia? blurb which remains the only hardest 600-character I've ever had to attempt. Trying to condense years of unchecked aspirations and fantasizing into one pithy statement is brutal and I'm thankful that Chicago doesn't subject its applicants to something similar.

Meanwhile, my UMichigan Early Response application has returned to haunt me. Folks on the UMich forums on CC have begun to report their decisions and while I'm happy for everyone who's been admitted, I'm also a tad anxious about my own decision which isn't available on Wolverine Access yet. Although it's still very early in their decision release process (decisions come out between 22nd Oct and 24th Dec this year), I submitted my stuff in September which would mean that I should be receiving my decision in the first few release cycles. On that note, I'll be checking back every day semi-obsessively to see if anything new materializes. The largest ramification of getting accepted (or well, rejected or deferred) would be with regards to my UC applications. While California has its own merits, I'd prefer to attend UMichigan over UCLA or UCSD and if I get my acceptance before 30th Nov, I'll take those two schools off my list.

Until something substantive comes up however, the anxiety, stress and excitedness inherent to this process will probably continue to dominate my daily life. To keep myself (somewhat) distracted, I've increased the frequency of my reading again and I'm working my way through:

• The Republic by Plato
• Leviathan by Thomas Hobbes
• Antitrust & the Formation of the Postwar World by Wyatt Wells

Hopefully, these reads will keep me occupied as I endure my love-hate relationship with the admissions process and the incessant (and semi-useless) rehearsals I'll have to attend for Farewell Assembly and Convocation.

 

I'm probably in some sort of trouble with the English department (or rather the sub-department, as I'd like to think of it). I'm not sure if it surprises anyone, because it doesn't even surprise me. I've been accused of being disrespectful, and I guess that's somewhat true, except that I've tried the respectful way many times throughout the semester to no avail.

I'm unsure if I've been too extreme or harsh in accusing my tutors of obduracy. To a person like me, inflexibility and impracticality are like a plague. Unfortunately however, in the process of growing up here, I find myself surrounded by a dire lack of flexibility both in marking standards and in content. I do not blame previous English tutors and modules of not living up to standards expected of them (an accusation made by someone else). In fact, it is my belief that previous modules have allowed for greater development of practical skills with more employability in the real world, and that we have been presented with more opportunities to discuss topics of greater relevance and significance than the (very) limited treatment of freedom and liberty that we were exposed to this semester.

Some of you think I'm a stubbornly tenacious person with regards to this matter. Some of you would think I'm sore after receiving a bunch of mediocre grades. Some of you would think I'm waging a personal vendetta against the tutors. None of those things make much sense but I'll allow you to believe whatever you want to believe.

My consolation remains in my continued refusal, like Mark Twain, to let my schooling interfere with my education. At times I worry that we aren't being sufficiently prepared to handle great works of literature, but often I remind myself that the limitations I encounter in school should not be able to suppress my capabilities. Am I being critical here? At least on a conscious level, no. But every day I spend in an environment that manages to be born familiar and foreign at the same time, is an education in itself. We commit equations to memory, we appreciate the most detailed workings of the human body and we learn differences between forms of phosphorous but most importantly, at the prime of our adolescence we learn more about who we are as people.