As a continuation of yesterday’s post about college applications, I figured I might as well tell the story of what happened to me when I was going through the process. Among the several colleges I applied to, I sent applications to two of the University of California schools: UC San Diego and UC Berkley. I had good grades in high school and the usual extracurricular stuffs that you’re supposed to have to pad an application, so I felt fairly confident I would be admitted. That year, however, the University of California system was having yet another budget crisis, which I’m not sure can really be called a crisis because it seems to happen all the time, so it really should just be called business as usual. As a way to cut costs, that year the University of California system decided to randomly ax ten percent of all students who would have normally been admitted, and I got a nice letter from them informing me that I had unfortunately been part of that unlucky ten percent. I was disappointed, and my teenage ego took a hit that day, but I had gained admission elsewhere, so it wasn’t the end of the world. About two to three weeks before I left home to begin attending the university I had committed to, I got another letter from the University of California system. This letter stated they had gotten some extra funds and were willing to admit me, though they couldn’t place me at either of the two universities I had applied to. If I wanted, I could go to UC Irvine. The thought of going to college in Orange County did not even remotely interest me, so I declined the invitation. It was too little, too late. While the University of California system was where I originally thought my story would lead to, it was clear to me that the path ahead was elsewhere.

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