Today is a good day.

I was typing up my essay, finishing my Georgia Tech app, when I realized that the September ACT scores are released today. So, I opened up a new tab, logged into my ACT account: lo and behold, I got a 35 composite on the ACT. I'm pretty sure I'm still asleep. Last time I took it, I misbubbled and got a 35 on Math, a 34 on English, a 23 on Reading, and a 31 on Science, with a 31 English/Writing composite. This time, I got a 35 on Math, a 34 on English, a 34 on Reading,and a 35 on science.

Sorry for gloating... I'm kinda pleased right now.

Anyway, here is my second college essay. Once again, if you plagiarize this, I'll probably eat you.

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams

Cliff Mabry set me on the path to enlightenment. He was my semi-Buddhist freshman Humanities teacher with an extreme case of ADHD, who spoke with incredibly slurred speech patterns and had arguably the most cryptic handwriting in existence. He “forgot” to censor the nudity in Romeo and Juliet, explained to us that green M&Ms are aphrodisiacs, and advised us to try snuff. I matured substantially that year. In spite of the questionable example that he set, Mr. Mabry taught our class so much—he taught us to live life to the fullest, and breathe in every small detail that life has to offer. That lesson, the lesson of passion, has remained with me longer than any property of Calculus or law of Physics. Most people don’t get it, though. Saints and poets maybe… they do some.

His class opened my eyes in so many ways—An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge reiterated how transient life is, and how little people appreciate it. Mr. Mabry showed us the brief film as a method of supporting the philosophy of his mantra, The Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Willams. And no piece could reinforce it better. When the ticking of the watch became loud and ominous, when each individual blade of grass became visible, life became infinitely more transient. The idea that people only consider how precious life is when they no longer have it struck a chord with me. What good is life if you only appreciate it when it’s gone?

Personally, the fact that so few people pay attention to the beauty of life arouses as much emotion within me as life itself. Take, for example, stars. So many people see stars as pretty flecks of light, but so few stop and admire the beauty of the infinite universe. That kills me. Part of the issue may lie in technology: man has made everything that anyone could possibly want to know or see readily available at the touch of a button. Thus, people are hardly ever forced to look away from their cell phones and computer monitors to see true beauty. Technology also increases the pace of life: people adopt more jobs as technology progresses, gradually morphing into workaholic busybodies. They have to do something, they have to go somewhere, they simply don’t have time to look at how beautiful the moon is or how strange that bird is. But eventually, they’ll regret it. According to Erik Erikson’s eight stages of life, people spend the majority of their life preparing for the productive phase of their life, middle adulthood. Afterward, people are either proud of their experiences or regret them—at this point, most people wonder “if the trip was worth it” and realize that ultimately, the pursuit of success is of little importance, as practically everybody that lives to the stage of late adulthood ends up in a wheelchair, contemplating their life and playing bingo.

Of course, my opinion on the subject is probably biased—I was dragged into late adulthood as a freshman in high school by my crazy English teacher. Don’t get me wrong, the pursuit of success is as much a part of life as regret is; however, in the end, the time spent “smelling the roses” along the way matters more than the time spent accumulating meaningless monetary wealth. After all, so much depends upon a red wheel barrow.

Sun Block

I'd like to apologize to my billions of readers for not posting over the past week. Sorry, pal.

In English, we've been writing sample college essays and resumes. I originally wrote my essay about religion, but decided it was too harsh and scrapped it. And then I wrote an essay about being pale. Sort of. It's actually about instant gratification and planning, with tanning as an extended metaphor. Read it for yourself. (If you plagiarize this, I'll bite your head off and then write an even better essay.)

I am fair, pale, and pasty. As a result of my lack of melanin, blemishes and bruises stain my translucent skin. I cake on SPF 85 sun block religiously, while many other girls subject their body to intense amounts of UV radiation from tanning salons and Texas heat on a weekly basis. An even larger sector of the female demographic relies on fake tanning, giving them a yellow-orange tinge that leads me to believe they have jaundice or scurvy. The beauty of artificial tanning never ceases to astound me.

A substantial portion of my student body flocks to Boca Tanning Salon, which says a lot about my peers—upper class, concerned with appearances, and orange. I have never felt the need to enter a tanning bed or paint myself with darkening oils and lotions, partially because strawberry blondes are legally obligated to be pale, and also because the dangers of UV rays have been pounded into my head by my parents and campy videos from health class. Downsides and side affects to tanning salons and bronzers litter the pages of magazines and newspapers—practically every US citizen has witnessed both the gruesome images of melanoma and comically stereotyped Italians from the Jersey Shore. The dangers multiply as the fad progresses: from orange hands to awkward tan lines, from wrinkles to cancer. Tanning has accumulated a massive amount of negative propaganda--thus, the motive behind fake tanning must lie in instant gratification: getting what pays off now, rather than what pays off later. Sun bathers risk potential cancer, wrinkles, and sun spots for the current standards of beauty. However, this surprises no one. People make choices that are immediately convenient, and they have done so since the beginning of time—this truth transcends culture and geography.

Personally, I do not comprehend the alien concept of instant gratification. I plan. I list. I budget my time and finances, analyze all of the options, and make decisions after thoroughly evaluating cost. From my experience, goals can only be accomplished if they are set. However, my peers live in the moment, not merely in the realm of skin care habits, but also in reference to college, career decisions, and extra-curricular activities. Their spontaneity and lack of thought frustrate me to no end—the people around me are incredible. They were born to succeed and to become leaders; they are intelligent and thought-provoking, and I envy them. Yet they attend state school, return to their home town, marry, and make exact replicas of themselves who enter the cycle with their parents and grandparents. An immensely intelligent friend of mine dreams of attending a prestigious university and entering the Peace Corps, yet doesn’t bother to apply because he doesn’t believe he can find the resources to attend. Martin Luther King Jr. devoted a large part of his career to ensuring that educational opportunities were universally available, and yet, few people actually pursue their dreams. In Our Town by Thornton Wilder, Emily asks, “Do people ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?” I can’t comprehend why people don’t realize how incredible they truly are and utilize their potential, or why no one looks beyond state boundaries to a future of success and passion and fulfilled potential. Most people could do so much more, be so much more if they gave more thought as to who they want to be in the future. Instead, they lay in tanning beds and follow the path that is most immediately convenient.

I pray that applying sun block and planning and thinking ahead will come back in style by the time my generation takes the reins. Not everyone should share my own habits and beliefs, but the world needs realists and planners to be representatives for future generations as opposed to only their own. Planning, budgeting, and allocating resources could potentially save billions of dollars in removing metaphorical cancer spots from a society that is too focused on instant gratification, if people would step out of their tanning beds and take notice. The world needs more sun block.



That's the rough draft. If you don't believe I'm obnoxiously pale, here's a picture:

See? I'm surprised I don't sparkle.

P.S. Sorry for making both a Twilight and Jersey Shore reference in one post. My AP Economics teacher is obsessed with pop culture, and I think she's rubbing off on me.