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----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, October 28, 2007 8:04 AM

By the time my mom finished "editing" my Harvard essay, nothing of what I wrote was left. I knew it was a terrible essay, but I submitted it anyway rather than fight her. Unsurprisingly, I was waitlisted and then rejected. I am convinced that the horrible, stilted, lifeless essay did me in.

Later I applied for a prestigious full-ride scholarship and hid the paperwork at school so that I could write my own essay. I won that scholarship, and two degrees and $120,000 later, I'm a debt-free Fulbright grantee living in a foreign country.

Moral of the story: love your mother, but write your own college essays. Being rejected for who you are is so much better than being accepted for who you aren't.


----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, October 28, 2007 2:26 AM
Subject: Re: Next Door To The Old Folks Home

I used to work at a nursing home, and every night, when the residents were being escorted back to their rooms, I would sing old jazz songs my grandparents used to play. The nurses thought I was crazy, but the residents all smiled and some would make requests and tell me stories about the good old days.

I thought I sang just to make the residents happy, but I was singing so that for a few moments I could share their memories.

Maybe you should sing a little closer to the old folks home.





-----Email Message-----
Sent: Sunday, October 28, 2007 1:20 PM
Subject: halloween sluts

i was at a halloween costume party this past weekend, and i was the ONLY female there who wasn't half-dressed && flaunting my body all over the place. i secretly think that most women take advantage of halloween just to dress like sluts.