So, apparently, the college application/selection process does NOT get less stressful once the decisions are in. I got kinda hosed, as did a lot of other people.
I had pictured things going very differently, and had started putting myself mentally into certain schools, imagining what next year will be like.
But the schools I imagined were not the ones I got into. I am/was disappointed. But, ya know, it's a number's game. No one's life is ever 100% perfect. I've beaten much longer odds before, so I guess it wasn't my time. And the options I have are good, it's just weird that I haven't seen them. I will find a place I like, and I'll go there and if it isn't a fit, I'll transfer. Second-guessing myself always sucks, but I have to put that aside and say that I did the right thing. And I will continue to do the right thing, pick the right option with the cards that I have. I'm pretty good at playing sucky hands well.
It still stung. I deserved it, and what sucks about the system is that thousands of kids who deserved it didn't get it. People don't always get what they deserve in life.
That was crummy, then I lost my wallet, my heart wasn't in Easter, and I couldn't deal with homework.
But the field trip was still fun, I have lots of support from friends in similar boats, but we all do have really good options. We'll all be just fine. Once you cross a certain threshold, you will be just fine. And, in a way, I get a whole other shot at this for grad/med school. The competition is a little less intense there.
And this week, well:
we had an awesome team dinner, blew the Lynns out of the water to finish the season 17-1, had the reader say "These kids make me feel dumb", it was Mr. Bucci's best record yet, he remembered to put in an announcement, I'm going to Six Flags, I spent the whole day sorting stuff and hanging with Mr. Fecke, I supported Jeweliann, Prism was epic and I love the Band. Jolly Coppersmith, Tim's key-tar, the trumpet's doing Mario Bros., Meg and Taylor doing Black, Sloane's piece, Peter wrestling/not wearing shoes/composing sick sax section features in twenty minutes, helping set the stage, the drum section t-shirts, taking pictures outside. I'm going to miss them all so much next year.
Mr. Fecke said he won't know what to do without me, Mr. Fecke's moped breaking down and random non-band seniors giving him a ride, Sloane fighting Henry to give him a ride home.
I played my piece so well, and I wasn't nervous or out of breath. It sounded good and I did it. I set that goal, and I achieved it. As Mr. Fecke said, that's one to stick in my back pocket. I'm proud of myself.
I'm going to get to see the two Maggies at UVM and miss a day of school, Mr. Conrad said I can make a presentation to the seniors, I got picked for the scholarship, I'm nailing my VHS course, Mr. O gave me candy for my excellent College Bowl performance.
The weather was beautiful, it is spring. I'm savoring the first of the 'lasts' as I end my senior year. Vacation is coming. The boys are doing amazing at History Fair. The season of a million band gigs is upon us.
So suck it, Harvard, Yale, and Princeton. You turned down one hell of a kid, and when no one's encouraging your students to save lives, or captaining your college bowl team to its best record ever, organizing the un-organized, winning awards, playing beautiful clarinet solos in a darkened hall, you're going to wish you took me.
But I'm going to be busy kicking ass somewhere else.