Senior Spring?

"Finally", I thought after I came back to Tabor from Spring break. I was a week late due to my family's immigration process. My parents believe it is for my good. Well, i don't know. It feels like quite a lot responsibility. I will need to pay taxes no matter where I am on earth, doing anything that has some business to do with America that it is going to tax on every penny I make. The reason I thought "Finally" was that I was looking forward to come back to Tabor since I am finally in college and think that I will not need to work anymore; I no longer need to do homework, to listen in class, and to worry about anything. But the fact is that nothing has changed. Even though each class individually does not contribute that much to my academic load, it is a different story when seven of them add together. I start to live as if anything can possibly hurt my possession. Sometimes I wonder, "maybe it is because i am not good enough for MIT. That's why i am feeling so unsettled." But MIT only takes about ten Chinese kids each year out of, i don't know, five hundred. I have to have something that shines to them, and I hope I know what that thing is.

College

It is the time of the year when rejection, offer, and waiting lists arrives, the time of our lives when we have a clear view of where we are among all students of this generation, and the time for anyone you know or know you to put some kind for sincere or phony expectations on you. 

It was 6:28 AM, March, 15th in China; that's when MIT decided to release their decisions. Despite the unconventional time of their notification, the way they addresses their offers differed from others. By saying "others", I mean those other schools that also give me offers. By saying "unconventional", I mean the offer letter read like a rejection through the first few words. It took me one extra second to jump out of my seat, or chair, and ran to my parents. Right after the second I told them the news, I wondered if it is real. I ran back to my room and read. It took me another extra second to find that word "offer" and probably another thirty minutes to find where the "Congratulation" is. Hmm... "That is kind of exciting", as I thought through seriously. 

It was 7:28, one hour after 6:28. There were tons of phone calls and text messages. On this matter, I have huge contradiction with my parents. While I believe that people will eventually come to know it, my parents think that if it is going to happen eventually, why not let it happen sooner than later. Among those phone calls, my parents explained no less than ten times what MIT is. I wondered what difference would that phone call make to those who did not even know what MIT is. They don't give a ... about this before, I suppose, and will not give one after. Of course, they won't say that in the phone, will they? Because that would only make my parents happier. Why? Envy, or to be envied, more exactly. Thus, I started to wonder and question the intention of those phone calls. I am admitted by MIT. Why do I or they, my parents, need those approves or admiration from those who we are not quite concerned with? Anyway, some phone calls were to those good friends of my parents'. 

It was 8:28, two hours after 6:28. I was so surprised how quick it passed away; I would expect the ecstasy to stay longer. Before this notification, I envisioned so much about the outcomes. I was ready to go wild, to go crazy, to go show off, to have my head up so high that people would be only able to see my nostrils, to walk sidewards like a crab, to knock on every neighbor's door, and to write the decision on my face so every one would know. Or, I would be lying on my bed for the rest of the spring break, looking into the sky at a forty five degree angle twenty four seven, having soups with chopsticks, avoiding conversations with my parents in any kinds of ridiculous reasons, and having my heads down for quite a while. Ok, that did not happen.