My school starts us on the college process as early as 10th grade. Now, this might not be an accurate statement, since all they really have us do is take a Pre-SAT test. It's half a day of school where we don't go classes, we shut down the English wing to take the test. However, they don't fairly warn for what this test is going to mean to you, especially if you're a genius like those of us who wrote in our email addresses in that little box at the bottom of the information sheet.
That was one fatal mistake that they should have warned us of.
Now, fast forward a few months to when I actually check the email account that I wrote down. Since I don't look at it very often, nor do I use it for anything so it's mostly devoid of spam, you can imagine my surprise to see upwards to 500 messages in my inbox. I should tell you that I have random spurts of OCD come over me, that being one of those times, I was more than anxious to get rid of those annoying emails that had taken over my previously abandoned inbox.
When we had to take the PSAT again the next year, I was smart and didn't write down my address. It didn't matter. I'm still getting emails from miscellaneous colleges offering "last chance to sign up for a visit," or reminding me that applications are up and ready to be filled out, and if I see one more from Mount Holyoke, there will be words. Granted, they'll be muttered furiously to myself and no one else will the wiser, but words nonetheless.
And to put the cherry on top, I have recently fallen into the smartphone craze, first my beloved Blackberry, and then my iPhone when said Blackberry decided it didn't want to charge anymore. Insert fatal mistake number 2: my phone vibrates and dings whenever I receive an email, which, thanks to the College Board and at least a hundred schools across the country - oh, and Barnes and Noble at about 1 a.m. every morning - is about 30 times a day.
My patience isn't wearing thin, it's already 95 lbs in a wet t-shirt and crying at the paparazzi to let it alone. I fear that only this cat knows my pain.
That was one fatal mistake that they should have warned us of.
Now, fast forward a few months to when I actually check the email account that I wrote down. Since I don't look at it very often, nor do I use it for anything so it's mostly devoid of spam, you can imagine my surprise to see upwards to 500 messages in my inbox. I should tell you that I have random spurts of OCD come over me, that being one of those times, I was more than anxious to get rid of those annoying emails that had taken over my previously abandoned inbox.
When we had to take the PSAT again the next year, I was smart and didn't write down my address. It didn't matter. I'm still getting emails from miscellaneous colleges offering "last chance to sign up for a visit," or reminding me that applications are up and ready to be filled out, and if I see one more from Mount Holyoke, there will be words. Granted, they'll be muttered furiously to myself and no one else will the wiser, but words nonetheless.
And to put the cherry on top, I have recently fallen into the smartphone craze, first my beloved Blackberry, and then my iPhone when said Blackberry decided it didn't want to charge anymore. Insert fatal mistake number 2: my phone vibrates and dings whenever I receive an email, which, thanks to the College Board and at least a hundred schools across the country - oh, and Barnes and Noble at about 1 a.m. every morning - is about 30 times a day.
My patience isn't wearing thin, it's already 95 lbs in a wet t-shirt and crying at the paparazzi to let it alone. I fear that only this cat knows my pain.
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