After receiving a carefully timed letter from the people at MIT – as if they knew perfectly the stages of grief of an MIT applicant – my confidence almost immediately reemerged after flipping through the pages. It reassured me that these people aren’t demigods, they’re real people who took the time to document the fun in their lives that they have over there.
My brain somehow took what I knew about MIT, who you’re up against, what it takes, what kind of people get admitted, and the passion I’ve had for it since I was twelve, and melded it together. And that evening I felt, since a long long time, that I was intellectually driven by a purpose. I got to work right away: I constructed “the path to success,” what needed to happen between now and the day that I apply, in order for me to successfully assert my worth.
Yes, I missed many opportunities I could have seized, but humans are not built to perfection, and like I’ve said, are influenced by circumstance. It’s hard to get to MIT, and that’s an understatement. And if I truly want to get there, then I will. If I want to be successful, then I will. If MIT has to be the impetus to get off my lazy butt and do what I love, then I will.
I never cared about the prestige and the fame, but rather the people and what they do. The engineers, the coders, the mathematicians, those are my people! I wish there was somebody at my school who would love to talk about Lagrange points and Taylor series. But there’s really nobody to compare to. I’m unique, and thus the doors are not closed.
And even if they find me uninteresting, I have options. The world is growing, and MIT’s officers know that they cannot possibly expand the campus. The people just get better and better; the 10% of soon to be 8 billion people in the world.
The science fairs are over and the competitions. No more awards. It’s time for me to just show off my projects, unadorned and unappreciated, to the world.
So here we go. Another phoenix is rising out of the ashes.