Admissions Impossible?

By Arielle Turner

Life, I’ve discovered, is just a series of buildups and releases from one nerve-racking moment to another, with scattered intervals of peace — which seem to be getting shorter — in between.

There are many different kinds of these nerve-racking moments. There is the light flutter of a class presentation just memorized the previous period. There is the nervous energy before a well-rehearsed speech or performance, where all you can do is practice and practice and practice the routine until it’s time to perform. There’s the gut-wrenching sensation you get before you do something you know you’re going to fail miserably at, but you have to do anyway. And finally there’s the long-term nervousness: the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever you think about a certain impending event.

My most recent nerve-racking moment was of this last category. It filled my mind and bowels for months, leaving a sense of impending doom whenever I thought about it.

Of course, I’m speaking of my UC application.

I’ve done many things that cause a buildup of butterflies in my stomach. But dance recitals, Disneyland parades, debate competitions and PowerPoint presentations — often in front of an audience of hundreds — have never caused quite as horrible a sinking sensation somewhere in my upper-digestive tract as this eight-part online application did.

Something about your future hinging on it getting done — and done well — makes it a wee bit more serious than worrying about falling out of your triple pirouette turns.

I’ve been anticipating it for months — almost a year, actually. And as if I wasn't freaking out about it enough, my dad had been bugging me about it consistently for a week or so. Even my friend’s mom joined in to remind me of what I had yet to do.

She came up to me at Thanksgiving and shook me, berating me for not sending in my application yet.

On Nov. 28, two days before the application was due, I was finally ready to submit it. Everything had been triple-checked and I felt that if I spent any more time obsessing over it, I might just spontaneously combust.

I made the mistake of telling my dad that I was ready to turn it in before I had the page open. Every five minutes, he asked if I needed his credit card yet, which was particularly annoying, as I was trying to finish my physics homework. After prolonging my father’s misery for an hour and a half, I finally submitted my application, printed my receipt, and felt the typical wave of relief rush over me. It felt amazing to know that I don’t have to worry about college admissions anymore: I know that even if I am rejected from every school I apply to, I’ll have a place at one of the Universities of California.

Now all I have left is private school applications, scholarships and AP classes. Not a huge improvement, but my parents have stopped nagging me, so I’ll take what I can get.

Arielle Turner is a senior at Norbonne High School in Harbor City