When you look back...

So for the strangest reason possible, I decided to start writing about my first application experience - the time I applied to TJ. I don't even know why I started writing. May be it was out of nostalgic memories of when I didn't care about the more monstrous college applications yet. Or may be I was simply naive. Whatever it was, I still wrote about it.

As I wrote, I couldn't help but remember all the fun times that had happened at Longfellow (mingled with some bad ones).

Seventh grade - well, there was Mrs. Miller for me, that's for sure. She kept me busy and amused enough. Lessee... what else? Band with Mr. Boltz in his last year at Middle Schools, back when band made my life shine, when band mattered so much more than anything. I lost that when I went to TJ. I lost all sense of wanting to try my best in band, may be because of Ms. Ulrey, may be because there were a lot of people who just... didn't seem to care. So I just decided to stick solo and join orchestras. I miss it, though. I miss Mr. Boltz, I miss my friends who didn't come with me to TJ. Sometimes I wish I went to McLean, because their band cares. Because I would have cared. My flute now sits hung on my stand, lonely, while the huge cut in my mouth heals (I tried to play nonetheless; it hurt like a mother, mind you). Then there was Pre-Algebra with Mr. Williams for three days before I moved to Algebra with Mrs. Burnette. I really, really regret that, as much as I love Mrs. Burnette. I just feel that if I had Mr. Williams, I would have learned more interesting things. I would have loved to take Alg/Geom. But instead, I went to Mrs. Burnette (and was kind of bored beyond reason; just ask Aryan or Andy Mai or that kid... oh, Billy Kim...) for Algebra and Geometry. That was pretty much the gist of Seventh Grade. It was lots of fun, but I think that eighth grade was more fun.

Eighth grade... was the year of A2Trig. When we pretty much drove Mr. Huang to the wall. But it was okay, because I got to become better friends with the other 15 people. The class was pretty much gluttonous, because the one time I brought dumplings for a class party, half the class pressed their faces up on the windows trying to get my mom to hand them the dumplings through the windows before I got to them. Silly children. I remember, Mr. Huang handed out gourds and mini pumpkins for Halloween, and I think it was Aviv and Renjie - they were playing with the gourd and accidentally hit the projector with it. Well, the projector kind of broke, and later we just laughed about it. I think I know pretty well now why Mr. Huang refused to let that many kids in A2Trig the next year... it went from 16 kids to 3. Nevertheless, he loved us, right? Right. Anyway. Band was so much fun, again. Mr. Sanger... most people hated him, but I don't know why. He was reasonable, in my opinion, and hilarious. He often picked on Victor Nguyen. Keke. Busch Gardens was the highlight of our band year. It was... great. If I can re-live eighth grade, I would do it without second thought. Because it was excellent. Except the small "TJ Drama."

Now that I think about it, TJ gave me a small taste of the hell that was to come, four years later. A very, very small taste, but meh. The day the letters came, Aviv, Renjie and I were in a three-way conversation on AIM, I think, talking about how Aviv got in, and Renjie just got the mail. It was then that I ran down to the mailbox to check my news. I guess the difference here is that even if I hadn't gotten into TJ, I could have just gone to McLean and be as happy. Except then I wouldn't have met these hilarious friends. In the case of right now with colleges, it doesn't work that way. It's pretty much all or nothing, in my opinion. Plus, I'm about to lose my mind. If my prediction is right, so are you, thee who art writing college essays.

But you know what? It's okay. We're seniors, and we're gonna kick ass.

And get out of this hellhole, I can't wait. -dances-

Speaking of which, I pulled a muscle while dancing yesterday. It kind of hurts. A lot.