Parallel Timelines

I probably spent dozens of hours fretting about with my college admission essays. At the time, a good application meant a great college, meaning a great career and a happily ever after. The writing was not an easy process; turns out I really didn’t have that much life experience as a… let me check… seventeen year old boy. Nevertheless, I crafted something that I was relatively proud of.

Eleven years later, I remember nothing about that essay. My mom had to remind me that I actually written about a Chinese idiom. The essay is nowhere to be found on my computer hard drives. A probable victim of the great purges of my Linux reinstalls before I found out about home mounting.

All things considered, I had a decent application process. I got into some nice schools, and proceeded to have a pretty decent life so far. Still, I wonder how much did that essay matter? Would I be as (—insert flattering/demeaning adjective of me here–) if I slacked off? Maybe the Marshall who stayed close to home and went to FSU ultimately found his true calling of inner tube water polo coach.

Maybe the above is a farcical question. The Marshall of eleven years yonder would’ve never slacked off.

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