Midnight Impulse

learning experiences and impulsive decisions

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University Application Essay

Smell that?  That’s senior university application stress sweat.  Ick.  I’ve been having a hard time with the essay section.  I keep feeling as if they’re trick questions.  “Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.” (Commonapp.org).  Operating word being believe.  Oh, I believe.  believe I have a story that is central to my identity.  Here, have my story that I believe makes me the person who I ammmmm.  So fruity and condescending.  

In trying to be original, or at least unique, I don’t want to come off as a try hard.  In trying to share my story, I don’t want to be pitied for it.  And a part of me just refuses to let anybody know my innermost desires, so I feel like showing the university my talents and goals is too intimate.  In that, I risk not being genuine.  It’s a Catch-22.  Is it?  I’ve never read the book.  

I like to consider myself a good writer; but what type of writer is afraid of putting pen to paper (or finger to keyboard.  Whoah, it’s the 21st century already?!)?  So far I have six sentences written and I’m not sure how I feel about them.  I guess I just need to keep on going and quit having the compulsive need of producing perfect sentences for my first draft.

For all the high school seniors out there struggling with the same thing right now, I leave you off with the following tips:

1.  Present yourself.  This university has never met you.  Show them who you are beyond your statistics and grades.

2.  You can be unique, but only if you can pull it off.  Sure, sending in a Shakespearean sonnet is impressive, but don’t it attempt if you know poetry isn’t your strong point.

3.  Don’t go for pity.  Never go for pity.  Incite thoughtfulness, approval, rage … but not pity.

4.  This one seems to matter the most: show them the elements of your personality.  Your goals, your interests, your talents, your strengths, your sensitivities.  Show them that you’re a person.

5.  Go and start writing your essay.  Stop browsing for advice and just start.  Throw out random sentences, phrases, words even, that you want to use and your essay will eventually come together.


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Losing the race

I live in a house that has a lack of mirrors.  Scales tell you how much you weigh but they definitely don’t tell you how you look.  Today, on another unsuccessful bra-shopping trip, I looked.  And I looked.  And god, did I hate what I saw.  I get it now!  This is why I’ve never been crushed on.  This is why other girls get more attention than me.  This is why I’m going to have a harder time getting places than someone who actually took care of their weight.  In a self-image obsessed society, looks seem to be just as important as skills.  And if I keep up this weight, I’m never ending up anywhere.

Dear Reader, by now you may think me conceited, judgmental, and vain, but as bitter a pill to swallow this is, it’s the truth.  I’m not trying to undermine education and the importance of actually being good at real things, but I am saying that taking care of yourself and your weight are part of being good at things.  Nothing is good about my unhealthy weight and eating habits, and I’m sick of not getting the attention I want.  I think it’s time to let out the thin/skinny/fit (whatever is currently an “acceptable” term to use) that I deserve to be.  

I have good posture, but it’s hidden under my back fat.  I have great taste in clothes, but I’m limited to only buying what fits, not what I like.  I have the means, potential, and ambition to go places, but in today’s society, I’m losing the race.

I’m sick of shopping at Marks & Spencer.  I’m sick of going into a store and getting disappointed they don’t carry anything bigger than an L.  I’m sick of not being good at sports as others are, and I’m sick of being breathless after walking up the stairs.  I’m sick of feeling self-conscious around people, tugging at my clothes and folding my arms in hopes of hiding the fat.  I’m sick of my stretch marks and my cellulite.  I’m sick of feeling uncomfortable taking part in any conversation regarding diet and exercise.  I’m sick of looking at myself in the mirror and feeling sick.

I want to be able to wear what I want and pose for photographs however I want, without worrying how bad I’ll look in that angle.  I want to be able to change clothes in front of my friends instead of running off to the bathroom.  

From now on, there won’t be anymore double desserts.  No god-awful amounts of rice, potatoes, and bread.  No more excuses for not going to the gym or working out.  I need to stop being so afraid of failure because, fuck, I haven’t even tried yet.  Maybe I can look back on my high school graduation photos without embarrassment, go into university with a fresh start.  

I want to be the happy, fit, beautiful girl I’m constantly seeing in my daydreams.  It’s time to start running towards her rather than hoping I’ll somehow pass her by someday.  

Motivatedly yours,



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Secret Ambitions

I think everyone, on one level or another, is afraid of judgment.  Even if you’re one of those people that claims that “you don’t give a shit what others think,” you do.  Humans want to be accepted and are afraid of rejection.  Ever since the 8th grade, I’ve been telling people I want to be a journalist.  While that is still my #1 goal, lately I’ve been fostering a secret ambition that I’ve been too afraid to tell anyone about.   Continue reading

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Saturdays=Youth, indeed

What is this alien feeling?  Is that … is that optimism?  Ambition?  Am I–no, it can’t be.  Am I happy?

Yes.  I am happy right now.  I’m content, I’m not anxious, and I feel at peace with the world.  I feel like no one can hurt me right now.  I’ve let go of the stress, I’ve let go of the hate, and I’ve embraced the current state of my being as one that has the potential to evolve into something great.  I think I finally found the basic mentality I want to build a better person around.  

The colours outside the windows are bright; it rained last night.  I can feel the cool air penetrating the glass as I sit here typing.  Appropriately enough, M83’s Saturdays=Youth is thrumming in my ear for the first listen, and I’m in love.  

For the first time in a long time I want to do things.  And I’ve not a bit of guilt about that.

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Death is so unrealistic

It’s emotions time.  Am I the only one around here that cannot comprehend the fact that people just … end?  Anytime I hear about someone dying, specifically someone my age, I get all depressed over it, thinking over some stranger’s death and taking it personally.  But how can someone my age die?  I have ambitions and goals in life.  I’m far too young to die. 

Another one that scares me is hearing about journalists getting killed.  Most recently, I heard about the two French journalists that got kidnapped and killed after interviewing a man in Mali.  I mean yeah, I realise it’s a dangerous job and I can get killed for it too … but that’s it?  I’ll just not be here anymore?  At all?  That doesn’t seem logical at all.

I’ve been wondering if anyone else ever feels this way.


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I really enjoy keeping a journal.  It’s nothing like the middle school “Dear Diary, OMG, today my crush waved at me at the hallway and I was just like, SOOOOO excited and Catherine is SUCH a terrible frie…”  No.  It’s more like a place I can vent, which has helped me a lot in the past year.  There’s so many negative things that go on in my head, it’s great to have somewhere to put all these thoughts and stop worrying about them myself.  When I write down my thoughts, I feel like they’re no longer my problem.  A weight is lifted off my chest, and now it’s the journal carrying my worries, not me.  

There’s not much obligation to it.  I don’t force myself to write everyday.  I don’t have to be neat or follow a certain structure.  It’s just anything and everything, messily spewed out on a fresh page.  Hell, it’s not even just venting.  There are some short story ideas and play scenes interwoven within the entries.  It’s nice having something you can keep your thoughts in without pestering everyone else about them and seeming whiny.

I strongly suggest keeping a journal for anyone going through a rough spot, feeling left out, doubting oneself … even now, in normal conditions, venting helps.  It’s so simple.  My journal isn’t even a pretty “diary” with a lock.  It’s just a notebook I keep in my bedside table.  Always there but hidden away 🙂