mmmm. my grades kicked ass this semester!
William and Mary~ here i come!!

All my finals i got an A on. . .
giving me a 3.7 this semester, with honors classes.

which, the admissions dean said was like they take that into consideration and add more.
^_________________^
so really like a 3.9

oohooohooh!

i AM NOT REWRITING my FIRST ESSAY today. thats just craziness.
heres the rewritten introduction though, which i like more than the original
—-
Lawns where luscious foilage is intermixed with vibrant spots of color are seen prominently displayed in front of midsized cottage style houses. A family, smiling brightly in their coordinating outfits, stands on the steps leading towards the door. The path cutting through the grass ends at my feet, and before I am able to step in and experience this utopian life, I have to enter therough the gate. My hand rests lightly on the waist high wood, painte white like icing on a cake. That’s what it is, this white picket fencel the sweet border framing my future.
—-
and the original
-
People often approach life with a plan. Frequently, this systematic approach (consciously enacted or not) makes living easier and adds a purpose to one’s life. This is true for me. I am able to think back on many points in the past where I was caught off guard by a questionnaire, and began to drown helplessly in the blank space: ‘What are your future goals?’ I had turned this phrase over in my mind over and over, each time pressured into quickly jotting down a hollow answer before resolutely moving on.
—
yeah.
anyways. heres my essay that i wrote SO half ass starting at like 1AM (after some good times with dan, playing red faction (bet him ONCE), and getting an $11 bill @ ruby tuesdays (worst service ever, and my bitchy-ness came out). i didnt even bother to finish the conclusion.
—
An Endless Cycle

“I saw that the time was right to make a play for souvenirs. I knew she had no money for them, and I had tried not to ask, but now that her guard was down I couldn’t help myself. When we pulled out of the Grand Junction I owned a beaded Indian belt, beaded moccasins, and a bronze horse with a removable, tooled leather saddle.”

Immediately Toby, the main character in This Boy’s Life, starts to take advantage of his mother’s need to love and feel loved. In the aftermath of a possibly traumatizing car crash viewing, he thinks of how he may benefit. His mother, realizing that they easily could have been taken over the cliff along with the truck if their engine would not have overheated, exudes a surge of maternal love and caresses. Toby, sensing this, seizes the opportunity to obtain what he previously had been attempting to receive: souvenirs. His mother, weak with emotion, gives in; thus starting an endless cycle, on both ends, of love and manipulation.
Notice how I took time to emphasize the fact that this “cycle” is mutual. Toby’s mother, on more than one occasion, is guilty of using him to obtain revenge or manipulating others to instill fear into Toby. When her new husband, Dwight, takes a ride with their dog Champion, in which it is killed, Toby’s mother cruelly taunts the question “Why don’t you take a little ride with Dwight?” (178) as punishment whenever he is trouble; this plays off of Toby’s emotional pain and fear of sharing the same fate as Champion. Furthermore, when Toby wishes to change his name to Jack after an unfortunate classroom situation, his mother is at first resistant. Upon learning that her ex-husband strongly opposes the changing of his name, she suddenly shows a massive amount of support for the name change, justifying this allowance by making Jack -or more specifically, Jonathan- his Catholic name (8, 9).
Toby knows that his mother will agree to let him change his name, if only to upset his father. He uses this information to his benefit and successfully changes his name. A further example of love versus manipulation is in the scenario involving the men his mother meets at a picnic, one of which promises him a Raleigh bike. When his mother comes home from a date and is crying softly, he goes toward her and comforts her. After she is calmed and close to sleep, he tries unsuccessfully to suppress the question: “What about the Raleigh?”(55, 56). His mother ignores him. The instance in which Toby shoots a squirrel would serve as a further example of where love coincides with manipulation. He purposely shoots a squirrel with the rifle his mother allowed him to have, then waits for her to return from work. He childishly points to the animal and watches as his mother takes a sandwich bag and humanely buries it (26). He prays falsely after having his mother dispose of the murder victim.
By using the rifle to shoot the squirrel, Toby had broken a promise that he had made to his mother. His mother, acquiescing to his demands, gives herself a bit of a sense of dominance by establishing conditions to which Toby must agree. By agreeing to these terms, Toby satisfies his mother and also receives what he wants. Of course, he does not ever keep his promises, though he sometimes exhibits moderate self-control towards the initial criminal act. Before he is able to change his name Toby must promise his mother that he will attend catechism classes, which he attends faithfully until caught in a wrongful act by a nun (9,11). Also, he agrees to not use the rifle given to him by Roy, his mother’s boyfriend, without adult supervision, but he frequently does. At first, he merely dresses up in costumes, cleans it, then progressively loads, aims, and shoots it (25).
Through analyzing of their relationship, it is apparent the gradual deterioration of Toby and his mother’s morals and trust in each other. It is as if they are using each other so that they are not alone and simply using each other as accessories in their individual petty crimes. At times, they are convinced of the love and innocence of one another, at others, of the betrayal and hatred.
–
“die another day” just came on in my playlist, and that just made it worth it. [well, CAME isnt really the right word, i clicked on it]

private dance lessons on wednesday, lets talk about the dance.. not, and i watche dmean girls on tuesday.

lets just look at this kick ass Psychology gradige

…
Assessment Average: 100%
…
more specifically,
Exam 1 > 100% (Class Average-8.2222222)
Video Assignment > 100% (Class Average-7.6153846)
Critical Research Assignment > 100% (Class Average-7.0833333)

Aaaahh. good times.
my essay, AGAIN. (i gave up editing after the first couple of paragraphs, can you tell?)oh, and i made up a new word, figure out what it is. dont laugh at the cliches
—
FINAL I (WHITE PICKET FENCES)

People often approach life with a plan. Frequently, this systematic approach (consciously enacted or not) makes living easier and adds a purpose to one’s life. This is true for me. I am able to think back on many points in the past where I was caught off guard by a questionnaire, and began to drown helplessly in the blank space: ‘What are your future goals?’ I had turned this phrase over in my mind over and over, each time pressured into quickly jotting down a hollow answer before resolutely moving on.

Though I felt as if I was being forced into choosing a way of life, I was also in a rush to discover what I wanted in life. I believed, as much as an school-age child could, that I needed to find my purpose in order to continue living and hold an existence in the modern world. Where would I be without a plan of future, investments, and structure? The unknown answer scared me. This fear was to become the catalyst to a variety of adventures in the world of ‘dream’ forming.

To begin planning, grasping the definition of a socially accepted life was essential I began developing my ideas when I experienced my first career day. This “Career Day” was a new thing to me; it consisted of teaching the students about different vocational fields, and brought with it a feeling similar to that which, as a child, I would experience when I saw the ice cream truck round the corner with the promise of sweets and music. I do not remember the actual taking place of “Career Day” (the more I think about this, I realize that I have a rather poor memory), but I do recall my fascination with marine life; somehow my second-grade self found a career that this infatuation could apply itself: Marine Biology. I whole-heartedly believed that I wished to become a marine biologist, but I also failed to consider the fact that the interaction with sea creatures involved swimming (which I had not yet mastered), and that the ocean held sharks. My constant viewing of Discovery Channel documentaries on shark feeding habits and the Jaws series succeeded in repelling me from the water and made palpable my denial concerning the realties of my chosen career.

Upon my graduation of secondary school, the topic of career goals seemed to always appear out of some dark corner in the middle of conversations. The more conversations in which I participated, the more people I encountered who also planned to study the field of marine biology. At this point, the bitter taste in my mouth held from the development of the conscious acknowledgement of my naivety grew. I felt my stomach turn. To most, the thought of others sharing similar hopes and dreams would affirm their chosen career path; not so for I. For some reason, this fact unsettled me and fueled my eagerness to fall in love with a new “career” so to speak. This was a hard decision to make, for the life and dreams I had spent years constructing now had to be wiped away and started a new.

My father is an engineer, and being able to provide the same environment and stability for my future family that he has provided me would be the ultimate sense of satisfaction. Unfortunately, I have no skill for engineering or computer programming, this fact being proven by the doubt-clearing courses in high school and my resultant performance.

Unknowingly, throughout my life, I had chosen my future career. I just refused to acknowledge it, and when I did glance at it, I had a feeling similar to that of taking a double-take while standing in line at the grocery store and recognizing my long-lost best friend standing next to me. I could not find words to describe what I was feeling at that epiphanic moment. Deciding on a career was such an important feature in my life at the time. It determined what college I would attend, where I would live, and what type of person I would become. Now, the discovery of my hidden talents does not seem like such a shock because I am able to see the whole picture.

I have always held an interest in the Asian culture, and since the only language my high school offered in this area was Japanese, I readily excelled. I have also been a Girl Scout for thirteen years, and truly enjoy interacting with children and teaching. After attending the Governor’s academy for Japanese in the summer of 2003, I was informed of a program called JET (Japan English Teaching). This seems like the natural choice for me, considering that it combines all of my joys in the world. I could not ask for anything more than a job, and life, that I thoroughly enjoy.

My near future is sure to be filled with many a dismal Friday night, loaded with textbook upon textbook, overcast by a desk lamp, and littered with the scant eraser or pencil lead. I see this all as my duty, filling the requirements needed to move onto the next level. I need to check off a certain number of boxes before I am able to start the next chapter in my life. The knowledge that someday I will be surrounded by the din of traffic below my apartment window, live by public transportation, and speak the language I love, pulls me through these days. I walk steadily towards the point in my life where everything will converge into one point.

The sun is going to rise in the east, and I am going to be happy.

I look into the windows.
_______From outside, I see milky rooms with swirling shadows
(they once held the shapes of bodies)
I imagine scenes in my head. I try to think about their lives, and how they’ve been.
I look down at my feet, and imagine falling off of this beam. (it would hurt, I consider
empirically, as if it is someone else not me, Jane in the Physics text book)

It is hot outside. Strange for me, until I feel a pinch, and I am reminded.
Stocking-ed feet make it safe, and I realize how green the grass is

The sky is moving fast now, faster than my thoughts, and I focus on it.

I haven’t done this in a long time.
It’s a little part of me.
(like when people say that they die a little inside, except the opposite)
I’m coming alive temporarily, like that fluorescent light bulb in the lonely lobby, the firefly that hovered by your ear.
_____ It’s all smooth, for now.
I know, it’s all my fault, and It’s easier this way because it’s Mutually Exclusive.
For a while, life was monochromatic (As I take a break, and remember)
Nostalgia tinges my nose now. I want to tear up, but it wont work, because the truth is, I’m not sad.
The sky was white, it wouldn’t move. Everything else was black, but we were in shades of grey.

All that mattered was touching, and someone took the time to feel my heartbeat.
_____ I never knew that could happen.
I never knew this could happen.