In the process of compiling my application for graduate school, I had to touch on some of the times life didn’t go so smoothly for me. Perhaps one shouldn’t wait until 41 to apply to graduate school because too much can happen that you then find yourself trying to explain. I was trying to write a concise explanation of relevant events which seemed increasingly hard to do. Especially when the events are so unbelievable. I wonder if anyone thinks I’m making them up?
For instance, when I applied for college as a high school student, I chose a small women’s college in an attempt to create the supportive experience I hadn’t found in a large public school. Instead I found myself surrounded by wealthy women who couldn’t make it into Georgetown University, but were nearby so they could meet up with the male students there. A distressing moment for them was managing to blow an $800 allowance on drug use or not getting the luxury vehicle they expected from their parents. My roommate, who didn’t really need to be in college because she would be going into her parents jewelery business in Miami, was dating a Cuban drug dealer. Yes, that’s right. And there’s more.
There was endless drama with the relationship, one highlight was the time he neglected to return the rental car that my roommate put on her parents’ credit card. When he visited her on campus, he set up shop and supplied cocaine to the students there. The college did find out, however, they just banned him from the campus. At that point he started FedExing the cocaine to my roommate, and she sold it for him. The best part was Parents Weekend. My roommate was getting threatening calls to our dorm room from a local drug dealer that wasn’t happy with the quality of the merchandise. So much for my nice small women’s college experience. The next year I did well in the housing lottery and got my own room. I never did the college roommate thing again. Think I was a bit traumatized?