I've been thinking about the idea that colleges "reject" applications. Everywhere from top-tier Ivy Leagues to stealth-mode liberal arts institutes, rejection is a common occurrence for aspiring applicants.
Whether or not it's justified is a philosophical impasse that I'm not interested in exploring at the moment, but the hops, skips and jumps college applicants have to do just to get through the door is insane.
I remember having to invent a prolific sportsman version of myself that won trophies and tournaments because being myself wasn't "good enough". Colleges want an all-rounded individual. A nerd who can also hit a homerun and give inspiring speeches while being socially active and in a leadership role while exceling under the pressure of an intense curriculum (I need to find these people too. If you know someone like this, hit me up).
In all fairness, maybe these super applicants exist and I'm just incompetent, lacking and uninspired. Or maybe these acceptance standards are doing more harm than good.
I was a reject too. No, that's being modest. I was a serial "rejectee".
Approximately 40 applications to 40 different American/Canadian/European colleges. Approximately 40 rejections.
At the time, I felt like shit. I felt like I wasn't good enough (and to be honest, maybe I wasn't). I felt like there was something wrong with me (definitely true). But eventually, that disappointment turned into anger, and the anger turned into motivation. And I tried again. And again. And again (legend is, I'm still trying).
If the WFP gave me food supplies for every time I shot and missed, I would've ended hunger in half of Africa by now (bold statement, I know).
I've now become (almost) immune to failure, (almost) numb. And my focus is on the most significant part: recovery from it.
Fail frequently. Recover always.
In the early days of considering applying to colleges abroad, I had a sit-down with one of my counsellors. I told her I'd always wanted to go to MIT, and she responded with an inadvertent scoff. The kind that meant "you're delusional". She tried saving face with some simulated coughing, but her position was clear.
That marked the moment I began to believe I would never get into MIT. The moment I adopted a ceiling mindset; that some things were impossible for me. Without even trying them first.
I can't say for sure whether this affected my non-MIT applications. But it affected my general view on things.
It wasn't until I dropped out of college that I defaulted to my old crazy self. The version that didn't see obstacles, only possibilities. And it occurred to me that I never needed MIT or abroad colleges anyway. I just needed a laptop and internet.
If no one's ever thought you're crazy, then you're definitely not (that sounded way better and less obvious in my head). Crazy is where amazing happens.
Do impossible/crazy things.
(Obviously, my counsellor was right. There was no way I was getting into MIT. Not with my bland writing, my haphazard academic history, and competing prodigy applicants from Asia & Europe who'd already made significant contributions to STEM.)