Tidbits from College Scholarship Applications

I decided to blog some of my responses to several scholarships to which I’ve applied, if for no other reason than to share the process.  A few of these scholarship sources I will keep anonymous, but I hope you enjoy some of the answers.

When asked what theme song I would use every time I entered a room:

I would choose a particularly frustrating and manic Beethoven passage, perhaps a passage that made me laugh, cry, or conduct in the car on the way to work, as Beethoven’s music so often did in my twenties – the period I call, “between life events.”  The finale to the Seventh Symphony has a particularly amusing trumpet call at the end.  Beethoven for me is self-reflective, and great theme music to enter or exit a room.  The fourth movement of the Seventh emits laughter, confusion, anger, frustration, rage, joy, victory and rejoicing.

When asked what was my worst personality trait and why:

Every month or so, I try to keep my room clean.  My disorganized room – trash spilling over, dirty laundry, unfinished songs, scraps of paper, receipts, and various unfinished projects – form that stabbing reminder of my disorganization.  It calls at me each time the environment becomes overwhelming, and I turn inside and make lists, delegate tasks, and partition time to complete the job.  Cleaning my room is a supremely frustrating event indicative of every failure in my life – almost like I’m cleaning myself.  I am like Sisyphus, pushing a boulder up a hill for all eternity, only to have it roll back on me again.  I still clean my room, even though disorganization remains that mythic boulder.

Most of these responses were interesting, but now I’m faced with the daunting task of applying for scholarships that require FACTUAL data, i.e., grade point average, community contributions, et cetera.  I will be honest.  I’m terrifically terrified at the thought of revealing to most of these institutions that I am thirty-one years old.  If that does not give boldness to those of you who are my age — or older — I don’t know what will.

Let my folly be your fodder for success, and my failures your future endeavors.