Admittance Essay

Baige Bell
11/27/11
Creative Writing

Admittance Essay
Share an experience through which you have gained respect for intellectual, social, or cultural differences. Comment on how your personal experiences and achievements would contribute to the diversity of the University of Michigan.

My friend Evan is a serial killer. He has no conscience, and these two traits make it difficult for him to socialize. He is a loner, and he has as severe case of antisocial personality disorder. Even though he sounds dangerous and scary, Evan really is a swell guy. Sometimes we go for runs together, and while we run we like to chit chat and gossip. For example, I help Evan out with his girl problems, and he in turn tells me all about his knife collection. He has taught me so much! For example, I learned that knives should be sheathed in leather because it doesn't dull the blade as quickly as other materials do. Storing knives in leather makes them ready whenever you need them! Evan uses his knives very often, so he is an expert when it comes to yielding them and taking care of them. The more time I spend with him, the more I learn! Like for instance, Evan lives down the street from me! I didn't know that when I first met him, but Evan did, because he's a serial killer and they know everything. I know that modern colleges like new aged ideas like diversity and tolerance, so let me tell you, being friends with a serial killer like Evan has provided me with enough experience to contribute to the diversity of the University of Michigan.

Evan really is a serial killer, and I really am his friend. I am not making this up to pad my essay, I swear (and I'm a Cadette in the Girl Scouts, so my sworn oath means a lot). I can prove it with an amusing anecdote. Evan and I went to high school together, and we had the same teacher for AP Language and Composition. Her name was Courtney, and she was a terrible teacher, a real witch with a 'b', if you know what I'm saying. Anyway, one day, we had a substitute teacher in her class, and Evan talked me into leaving class early (serial killers can be very persuasive). Well, some tattle-tales in our class told the teacher our names, and the substitute teacher told Courtney, and the next day when she came back, she yelled at me in front of the entire class! She sat at her desk and belittled me and yelled at me and told me she would get me suspended if I ever did it again. Like I said, she was a nasty woman. But the thing is, she didn't yell at Evan. She didn't say anything to Evan at all, because she knew. We all knew that Evan was a serial killer, but no one could prove it, not the kids in our class, not Evan's parents, not the FBI, and least of all, not Courtney. So she let Evan get away with it, but not me. Well, that was a mistake on her part. Evan talked to me after class and asked if I was okay. I told him I was embarrassed and that she was mean. He got this strange look in his eye, and he told me “don't worry, I'll take care of it.” The next day we had another substitute teacher. Evan didn't come to class either. We had a different substitute each day for the rest of the week, and Evan also didn't come to class. The next Monday, the principal came into our class and said that Courtney would no longer be our teacher, and that she had mysteriously disappeared. Everyone knew what really happened, but nobody said anything, because we all knew that Evan was too smart to leave any clues behind. So, in regards to Courtney, as Reba McEntyre said, “that's one body that will never be found.”

Dexter makes serial killers seem like a dime a dozen, but in actuality they are really rare, especially in northern Michigan. There's probably only one in the whole state! (Excluding East Lansing, but we all know those kids are nuts, and they don't count). In fact, I'd venture to say that serial killers are probably some of the rarest minorities in the whole world, right up there with albinos and people born with two heads. Being friends with Evan has prepared me to appreciate the different cultures of minorities. I have had to adjust my expectations of friendship to better fit Evan's needs. For example, Evan has to be gone for long periods of time. Sometimes when he is gone I miss him and would like to talk to him, but I can't because he is “on a mission.” I know that other minorities have similar issues, like if I came across a Muslim on campus I would totally understand that they can't eat during Rhamadan, and I wouldn't ask them to go out to eat or anything when the sun is up. Being friends with Evan has taught me that I can't do everything on my own schedule, that sometimes, to be a friend, you need to accommodate your life according to the way your friends live theirs.

Having Evan as a friend has taught me so much about life and diversity. I have learned how to befriend people that are different than me, and how to accept them for who they are, no matter what. I can apply this concept to other minorities too, not just serial killers, but also contortionists, people with double-jointed thumbs, kidnappers, and pregnant people. I have also learned a lot about knives. My appreciation for different kinds of people and cultures will contribute to the diversity of Michigan because I hope to use it to accept the loners and let them know they have a friend in me, and also to maybe inspire other people to look beyond surface labels like “social pariah” and “menace to society” to really and truly see the remarkable people within those classifications.

Conspiring Jerks

I don't know why everyone thinks I'm dead. I'm not dead. It's a conspiracy. I remember the car accident very clearly; the semi came over the line and smashed into us head-on. I remember bleeding a lot, but I never lost consciousness. It's a conspiracy, I'm telling you. It's my stupid step mom. I bet she even used my Dad's money to pay off the semi driver. The guy was probably happy to end his loser life. Anyway. That's not the point.

The point is, I remember sitting in the car, bleeding, waiting for the paramedics to get there. Boy, let me tell you, it took them AGES. It was a Thursday so they were all probably watching Grey's Anatomy or something. When they FINALLY got there, they kept yelling at me, asking if I was okay. It wasn't that I couldn't answer, I just didn't feel like it. I didn't like their tone. Plus they broke the window of my car to yell some more, and I just knew that my step mom wouldn't buy the “paramedics did it” story. She never buys anything (from me anyway, she buys EVERYTHING from Louis Vuitton. I'm telling you, she's conspiring against me). Anyway, like I said, it's not that I wasn't able to talk to the guys ripping apart my car, I just didn't want to reward their childish behavior.

So they finally pull me out of the car (and one of them was a little too handsy, if you know what I mean) and then some jerk-off starts talking at me like I'm dead or something. As if. I'm fine. But anyway. He starts talking to the other jerks around him saying bull like “oh it's too bad we didn't get here in time.” Yeah right. More like “Thank God we didn't miss the end of Grey's Anatomy. Meredith is hot.” Bunch of jerks.

I end up going to the hospital with these jerks, because I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of speaking to them. They're just a bunch of jerks. So I go and I don't say anything and I think about all the ways that my step mom is ruining my life. Clearly, she is paying these jerks to act like I'm dead. Well fine, if they want to behave like children that's their problem. I don't want to talk to them anyway.

Then when we get to the hospital (which is run by a bunch of jerks), they all start acting like I'm dead too. I'm starting to wonder how my step mom got away with all this without my dad noticing the money leaving. He probably does realize it. He's probably a part of the conspiracy, just like these jerks at the hospital. I'm not talking to them. Not giving them the satisfaction. No way. No sir.

It was a total bummer when they shut me in the morgue though. I mean, that was just childish. What kind of jerk shuts a person in a morgue? Whatever. It's not like I couldn't get out, it was just I wasn't really sure where I'd go when I did. I mean, it's not like I had a car anymore, and it's not like I'd have anywhere to go if I left. I sure wasn't about to go home to my dad and step mom. Not after they tried to kill me. As if.

The mortician pissed me off too. He started talking to me all nice, like he wasn't a jerk, but then he stuck some nasty paste stuff in my mouth, and glued my eyes shut. I could have stopped him, but I was mad that he turned out to be a jerk. I am just so sick of jerks. They're everywhere. And they all get paid by my step mom.

So I had to sit in this stupid box for like a whole day while a bunch of jerks came to my funeral and started talking about what a tragic accident it was, like they all believed my step mom's crap story about how I was dead. I could have opened the casket and said I wasn't, but who would want to open a casket just to talk to a bunch of jerks? Not me. No sir. No way.

Then after some bull eulogy by some jerk minister I'd never met, some conspirators picked up my casket and put me in the back of a hearse. By this time I was pretty sick of the whole thing.
When the car started moving, I decided to talk to the hearse driver to get me out of here, even if he was a jerk. But he didn't hear me or something, or maybe my step mom knew that I would try to talk to the guy and paid him extra to turn a deaf ear. What a jerk.
So then they stuck me on some sort of box thing, like in a movie or something I guess. I don't know, I couldn't exactly see, what with that glue they put on my eyes. So then the same jerk minister says some more bull and they start to lower me down. I thought about saying something again then, maybe there was someone in the crowd who wasn't getting paid to be a jerk in my step mom's conspiracy, but it was kind of fun being lowered. It was kind of like a kid's roller coaster, and it reminded me of when I was just a kid and would ride on Dumbo, back before everyone was a jerk and my mom was still alive. So I didn't say anything.

Since then I've just been kind of hanging out here. It's not like I can't get out, I just don't really feel like it. I mean, the world is just full of jerks that hang out with my step mom, so who would really want to join them anyhow? Not me. No sir. I'm fine down here. It's kind of nice, you know? Quiet. No jerks. It's not so bad.

Softball metaphor

He was trying to make it to second base
But he struck out
She made him think he could increase his batting average
But she squashed his hopes into diamond dust
He used to bat 1000
But she threw him a curve ball
And he swung and he missed
He was hoping for a fastball
Or even getting walked
At least he'd get to first base
And then he could steal his way home to score
He thought maybe she just didn't like softball
Maybe she was against homeruns and rounding the bases
Until she got a contract saying she couldn't be traded for a younger player
Or maybe she didn't like the idea of an umpire watching the game
But what he didn't know, and what she didn't tell him
Was that she played for the other team

Just for you Samantha Schiller

The following is an assignment I had for AP Euro last year...read an article about US relations with Spain and summarize) United States relations with Spain thawed on April 5th when Obama met with Zapatero for the first time since socialist Spain withdrew troupes from Iraq in 2004. Obama was relaxed after the meeting, claiming that it had gone well and that he was confident that Zapatero was competent enough to lead the "far reaching" nation of Spain. He expressed his hopes that relations between Spain and America had improved enough for both nation's cooperation on future issues. He was also happy to come out of the meeting with a new "amigo," the two connected over a shared love of basketball, ring pops and Spiderman. Zapatero was equally impressed with Obama after the meeting. He even attempted to Americanize himself by misquoting John F. Kennedy when he said "we must not ask what Barack Obama can do for us, but what we can do for Barack Obama and make his ideas in the international order successful." His quote may have been a bit off, but his sentiments of Obama being the true Messiah are wholeheartedly American. Both leaders have extended open invitations to the other to visit his own country whenever the other wanted. "I've always wanted to return to the site of my boyhood wonders," Obama said, misty eyed. "I would love to go back and ride my bike and play in the sandbox of my youth." (When asked if Obama meant "sandbox" as a racial slur, his rep vehemently denied it and confirmed that Obama was talking about a literal 'sandbox,' complete with Tonka trucks and "one of those neat little sand sifting factories"). To further cement the friendship between the leaders, Zapatero asked Obama to sign his daughter's book, saying that she was a big fan (the rumor that the book was the Bible and that Obama signed it 'God' was neither confirmed nor denied by rep).

Just a heads up

The first two stories down are both love stories I had to write for creative writing...if that (like prostitution) is not your bag, just skip over those two and you should find some better ones. Also, if you're not a softball player, skip over 31 more flavors of dialogue but for sure check out 31 flavors of dialogue. Thanks!

Amusing Anecdote

Miranda: I left my phone in coach's car! I won't get it back until tomorrow afternoon!
Me: I should send it dirty text messages!
Miranda: Do it!

Me: "Hey Randa, I got him as he was leaving that whore's budoir. He never saw it coming. Thanks for letting me borrow the silencer for the .22, my only problem is that I still have the body and he only had 23 of the 50 g's he owes me. No doubt he overpaid that hooker for a few extra minutes in paradise. No problem, I'll take care of her after my deal with C-daddy goes down in a few hours. But hey, I need to borrow that woodcutter you used to take care of Dinunzio last week. The bastard's body won't fit in the body bag I bought from Home Depot last week. Thanks dollface."

With Everything I Have

With Everything I Have

A beautiful young woman is on a front porch, pacing back and forth. She finally decides to knock, but there is no answer. She knocks again.

Kristen: Nick! I know you're in there. I can see your car in the driveway. Please, open the door. I need to talk to you.

Silence

Kristen: Nick! Answer the door!

After another brief delay, a young, attractive man opens up the door a crack but doesn't speak.

Kristen: [suddenly unsure of herself] Hey, um, how's it going?

Nick moves to shut the door in her face.

Kristen: Wait, Nick, don't! Please, I need you. I need you with everything I have.

Nick stops in his tracks, frozen by the familiar line.

Kristen: Please, please, come talk to me.

Reluctantly, Nick comes outside and shuts the door quickly. He stands with his hands in his pockets, determined to remain stonily silent.

Kristen: You look well.

Nick: Kristen, what are you doing here?

Kristen: I, well, I...uh...Marty...

Nick: I should have known.

Kristen: It's not like that, I swear!

Nick: Marty dumped you, didn't he? Yeah, he did. And now you're here because you're lonely and pathetic and you expect me to take you back. I told you he didn't love you. I told you he would never love you, no one would ever love you, not like I did. But you didn't listen. You never listened. You were always right, nothing I ever said mattered to you. I hate you. You are without a doubt the most selfish person I have ever met. How dare you show your face here again. When you left this town you severed your only connection to any home you will ever know. Everyone here hates you, Kristen. Everyone. No one will ever forgive you for leaving us. You left everything that mattered. For some loser with a Harley. Was our life that boring to you? Don't answer that. I'm through asking what if. I'm through wondering why. I'm through with you, and this town is through with you. Go back to where you came from. Stay away from me. I'm through with you. Forever.

Nick turned around and walked back inside, slamming the door in her face. Kristen stands there awhile, then, snapping herself out of it, pulls a letter out of her pocket and leaves it on the front steps.

End scene.

Kristen is at a playground pushing a young girl on the swing.

Lou: Higher mommy, higher!

Kristen: Okay sweetheart, but not too high...

Nick enters from stage left, the letter in his hand, a shocked look on his face. Kristen stops pushing Lou and turns to face him.

Kristen: Lou, this man and I need to talk for a little while, I'll be just over there.

Lou: Okay mommy. Love you!

Kristen walks with Nick over to the benches.

Nick: That girl, on the swing, she's--

Kristen: Your daughter.

Nick: And you're certain of this?

Kristen: The paternity test was conclusive. Besides, I was two months pregnant when I met

Marty anyway.

Nick: And you knew? How could you leave me? How could you take my daughter away from me?

Kristen: Nick, we were nineteen. You hated kids. You told me that you didn't want any, and every time we sat near them at a restaurant you had the waiter move us to another table! We couldn't even go see a movie before ten in case there was a kid in the theater. I couldn't--[she breaks off, crying. Nick puts his arm around her] I couldn't tell you, because I knew you'd leave. I could take you leaving me, but I couldn't take you leaving her. She's my baby, Nick. I couldn't ever let anyone hurt her.

Nick: She's our baby, Kristen. She's our baby.

Kristen: Really?

Nick: No matter what happens between us, I'll always be there for her. She's my daughter, and I'll always be her daddy.

Kristen: Oh, Nick--

Nick: But how could you do it? How could you leave me for Marty? Did you think he'd be a better father than me?

Kristen: Oh Nick, he was older, and so mature. He had a job and he loved kids, he said he'd take care of me, marry me and raise my daughter as his own. I loved him for that. I really did. But I wasn't in love with him, and he knew it. Our relationship was falling apart, because I was still in love with you, and he knew that too. Before I left him, he told me that it was my responsibility to tell you the truth. He said that I never gave you a choice. He was right, I didn't. But I thought that you would leave us. And I couldn't take it. But he was right. It is your choice, and I'm so sorry that I didn't let you make it. I'm letting you make it now.

Nick: Kristen, I want us to be a family. I love you. I've always loved you. And I will love our daughter, heck, I already love our daughter. More than anything. We both deserve a second chance. And we're going to be a family.

Kristen: Do you really mean it?

Nick: With everything I have.

The end