Struggling

It was Ivy Day a few days ago, and I am stressing out.

Why, you ask? It’s not like I’m a senior. Literally none of that should be on my list of top priorities right now.

But I can’t stop watching these videos of people talking about all the extracurriculars they did in high school, all the community service, and their amazing grades. Getting 5s on AP tests. 4.86 unweighted GPA.

And that sucks, because I see some of them getting into Harvard and Yale, and then I see others who’re just as impressive getting waitlisted or rejected.

I know that I should be striving towards a safe state school; it won’t cost much, it won’t be nearly as hard to get into as an ivy league. But I never did stop aiming for the stars, did I?

God, I remember when I was still writing my fucking time travel book. What a year. Each character I’d written had their own niche- Aubrey was a science gal, Ellie a literature person, Roxanne an art student. To determine what college each of them would go to, I’d literally google:

“Best colleges with literature programs!”

“Top science universities!”

And then I’d glance past all the colleges I’d never heard of, my eyes sticking on all the ivies. Because I wanted the best for my characters. They were always these likable, better versions of me. I wanted them to go to the very best of the best.

So, naturally, that wish has transferred to me. I’m my own character, now. I’m stuck on Columbia.

For Ellie, Columbia was a perfect match. It was in New York, and Ellie had aaalways wanted to live in New York. She’d always craved the bustle of people rushing to where they needed to go, to be able to walk in the bright sidewalks, going on subways. It was weird that she wanted that, but she had been stuck in her small town for so long that she just really wanted something different.

Surprise. Ellie was based off of me. It didn’t help that Columbia had an amazing creative writing program, and a prestigious journalism school. And also, to top it off, they offer a dual degree program for journalism and computer science. It’s like Columbia was MADE for me.

I hate that I have a dream school. It’s just something else for me to get disappointed with.

I’ve been binge watching videos of people who’d gotten accepted to Columbia, and GOD, how am I supposed to compete with them? How? I haven’t done anything life changing, nothing earth shattering. I’m sure that I could, if I wanted — join a couple more clubs, push myself to the limit. But one thing that’s always said in these college videos is: Be unique. Do what YOU want to do. And that kind of goes against the idea of doing a million things just to pad up my application, doesn’t it?

Obviously, my eyes drift towards journalism and computer science, both things that I am actively doing stuff for. I just need to be better, I guess. Better score at the Iowa State Cyberdefense Competition. Higher ranking on Girls Go Cyberstart.

And. I need to get off my fucking ass and WRITE MY SEXISM ARTICLE. But FOR SOME REASON, I can’t.

I’ve written THREE DRAFTS SO FAR. THREE. When I was first starting, I told myself that all I’d need to do was finish ONE draft, and then I could do damage control. But my first draft was terrible; there was absolutely no way to recover. Second draft wasn’t much better. Halfway through my third draft, I deleted everything and tried to start over.

And here I am. That’s where I am. The starting over part. And I have. No. Fucking. Idea. What to do.

I have so much information, and I have so many hopes and aspirations for this article. I want to get it published. I want it to change something. I want people to read it and be shocked and send it to their friends.

But, you know. All of that depends on it actually being GOOD.

And the most frustrating thing? My mind keeps getting distracted. I’m already bored. I want to get to the next thing. I’m already thinking up an article to write about Vietnamese immigrants through the generations, or to try my hand at stunt journalism to see how the conditions are in juvenile detention. I’m mad about it because I can’t do ANY OF THESE THINGS since these two drafts and experiment and interview notes keep staring at me in the face. I feel so guilty! I want a bucket of talent to fall on my face so that I can just FINISH IT, ALREADY.

God. Complaining about it to my blog of zero readers isn’t going to help much, is it?