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Latest update from Anita. I'm really sorry if anyone is against me putting information up here.

TUESDAY, JUNE 26th

Dear friends...I've spoken with Caro's mom just now. I don't know if I was the only one uninformed completely, but I just found out that Caro was cut by a propeller and she almost lost a leg, mostly because of the irresponsibility of the hospital in Trinidad and Tobago. They put her in the room with all the infected people, they shaved half of her head, she was sleeping on some horrible plastic mattress, the flies and mosquitoes were flying all around her and her leg got infected. It was very, very bad. So bad that she almost lost it..The docs in Trinidad even said that the cut on her head was just superficial, but actually it's pretty bad, too, because it was dirty and she had a hematoma which was pressing the brain. She also lost a small finger on her left hand and she's very sad about it.
The operation on the head and on the upper part of the leg was 8 hours long. She still needs to go to another surgery of her leg and arm. Right now, she's lying in the hospital in Miami, without a piece of skull, with some helmet instead. That piece doctors had to take away in order to do the surgery. They will put it back in 3 or 4 months. Caro is definitely not coming back to school this year. Her parents are gonna talk about it with the national committee of Madrid. She might not go to Costa Rica, but some other school instead.

And yet, Caro is still so brave and positive, you say, Anita?

Do you feel like I do when reading this?

I have had a post here about how strong human beings are, and I still don't change my mind. They don't give up, they struggle to save every bit of a human while everything else just seems to want to take it away, while her body is just fractures and... I can't blame the doctors at Trinidad and Tobago at all, because how can I expect them to be equal in skills and facilities with those at Miami? We are just limited.

And I recall the Black Jack serires by Osamu Tezuka. When I was small, because my parents were both doctors, I somehow never wanted to be one. The first time this was changed was when I read Black Jack, maybe for the first time, felt how precious just being able to live is. But I never took it seriously, because in school chemistry and biology were never my subjects. But, of course, I think Osamu Tezuka is the greatest mangaka ever.

I just come to understand that it was such a selfish reason for not being a doctor.

I remember on May SAT test day, Nina, Caro, Hugo, Yiran and I came out of the subject test room. Caro said something like she could have finished only 30 out of 50 math IC questions, and did terribly in the literature one. She said it was OK, she didn't try and didn't hope for going to any top school. Or she may even come back to Europe, where they don't care about your SAT scores anyway. My first thoughts were that she was definitely not a competitor in this race. Not a match. But when something like this happens, tell me, does it even matter? Can you say that it simply doesn't count, because it's not happening to me? But what are we trying for? To gain what? To look like what? And when people don't care, when you realize that you just momentarily don't care either, tell me , does it even matter? We just need to live, and that's enough. We just need to live.

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end, it doesn't even matter..."

Jin and Bryan used to sing this song.

I want to talk to Jin, or Bryan, but you're not online. And that reminds me again of another thing I used to say. No matter what, there are moments when you find yourself totally alone. Then you might end up listening to Linkin' Park like me.

Takes me one step closer to the edge
And I'm about to break

This is how sometimes Linkin' Park can make you even more depressed, when you most expect the beats of the drums, the electric, and the rapping to cheer you up...

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This morning I just chatted with Cindy about the boys and soccer. That reminded me of a friend who used to say that Ro(naldo) is much better than Jin =)) So, after about 1 hour of jabber, we came up with some lists of "Reasons why...". Here are my lists =D

OK. If you don't know Jin, there are still 10 reasons why Jin is better than Ro:

1/ You can call Jin by his first name or nickname =)

2/ Jin is only 1m75'' tall. That will make you look better when you stand beside him.

3/ Jin plays the acoustic and electric guitars, the piano, the violin, the drums, and he likes Bach and Metallica. I don't think Ro does. And music guys are hot.

4/ Jin has black hair, black eyes, is Asian... OK, well, Canadian, but he looks Asian. Especially, he's Japanese. In general, Japanese are preferred by more people than Brazilians are.

5/ Jin plays baseball, Ro plays soccer. Baseball is hotter than soccer... at least in my opinion.

6/ Jin can sing, and sings well. Look at the last part of number 2 again!

7/ Jin is also good at Stepmania, and INCREDIBLY good at Counter Strike. I don't think Ro plays Stepmania or Counter Strike =)

8/ Jin speaks Japanese, French and German (and English, of course). Ro speaks Portuguese. Portuguese has too many things to do with Spanish, which means it's ways too LOUD. German and Japanese are cool, and French i sweeeet. Besides, French and Japanese are the fastest and second fastest languages in the world, which means Jin speaks faster than Ro does.

9/ Ro has like millions fans. Jin doesn't have that much, which makes him more accessible should you happen to be one of the fans =)

10/ Jin's name is Hitoshi. Ro's name is Ronaldo. Hitoshi comes before Ronaldo in the dictionary, therefore Jin is better.

If you do know Jin, then there are 6 more reasons why he's better than Ro:

1/ You can talk to Jin whenever you want, as long as you have his phone number. You cannot talk to Ro no matter when you want it.

2/ Jin sees things in 16 colors (Windows default setting) and sometimes thinks in binary. That's just like having a living computer with you.

3/ Jin has good sense of humor. You never know if Ro does =D

4/ Jin will give you a live show if you want to watch a live show (but don't have money). Ro will not.

5/ Jin knows how to use a gun, but shoots like I do (or even worse). So he's a peaceful guy. Easy to live with.

6/ If you call Jin a nerd, he will probably call you a jerk. If you call Ro a nerd (which he isn't), he won't say anything. Because he won't be aware of you calling him so.

Haha! OK, we're done with Ro. Now, these are 10 reasons why Jin is better than Bryan:

1/ Jin plays the electric, Bryan plays the bass. The electric dominates the bass, so Jin wins.

2/ Again, Jin sees things in 16 colors and sometimes thinks in binary. Bryan thinks in equations. We have enough living mathematicians already, and you rarely need one with you. We don't have any living computer and you NEED computers.

3/ Jin speaks better German than Bryan. Jin wins again.

4/ Jin always wins in poker games. Bryan is always the loser.

5/ Jin CAN cook. Bryan CANNOT.

6/ Jin can pronounce "Je t'aime" and "Aishiteru", and even "Sarang he" perfectly. Bryan tried to =)

7/ Jin does NOT swear. In any language. Bryan DOES swear. And swearing is bad.

8/ Jin uses Window. Bryan uses Mac. Window users are 90% of the world, or something like that. Jin wins.

9/ Jin remembers days and dates. Bryan sometimes doesn't.

10/ Jin knows how to make you say what he wants to hear (remember that day, July 23, which I'm sure Bryan has told everybody about). Bryan is not that clever =)

And these are 10 reasons why Bryan is better than Jin, copied from Cindy's blog. The italics are my comments.

1.Bryan was admitted by MIT, Stanford, Brown, U of T, Columbia, Cornell, and York Uni, and matriculated at MIT. Jin was admitted by MIT, Yale, Cornell, Carleton, Brown, and UPenn, and matriculated at MIT. That's 7 schools to 6 schools, Bryan wins.

2.Bryan can rides a motorbike, Jin cannot. Speed guys are cool.
Bryan is not the only speed guy here! That's just because Jin has never given you a ride!

3.Bryan majors in math, Jin majors in physics. Math is the fundamental science, physics is not. And you can't live without fundamental things.

4.Bryan knows what gift to buy on a specific occasion. Jin is not that creative about these things.

5.Bryan is better in bed =)) What I exactly mean is, remember that sleep over at Nick's house? Bryan didn't roll all over and fall out of the bed (hehe)

6.Bryan speaks western accent, which is cooler than eastern accent.

7.Bryan has red hair, which is always the hottest!

8.Bryan wins every ping pong game.

9.Bryan loves pizzas, Jin loves donuts. Pizzas are bigger than donuts, therefore Bryan wins.

10.Bryan is more fashionable !!!

OK, OK... Have fun with those lists =)

---

You are strong soldiers, we know... You will make it. You made it.

Getting on facebook everyday, reading news about you everyday, I was intimidated by the quantity and magnitude of surgeries you have to overcome. This part, that part, or that other part of the bodies... they are numerous. Your body are fractures, but that didn't stop you from living... joking... hoping.

That didn't stop any of us - your friends, your acquaintances, your family, your doctors - from hoping, praying, and struggling either. Your body are fractures, and it seemed like you were smashed into many pieces, you were told to die... but we human beings are strong. We held you back to life, we mend where you were tore, we fix where you were broken, we did whatever we can to hold your body together... to fight against death's will to take you away.

We are amazingly strong.

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From :

http://www.mitadmissions.org/topics/before/helping_your_parents_through_this_process/its_more_than_a_job.shtml

In response to an earlier entry of mine, this post appeared on College Confidential:

You know, I get sick of college admissions officers saying how they couldn't accept so many wonderful people. While it's supposed to be comforting, obviously, I just find it really insincere. I mean, either you're accepted or you're not. There is no grey area... so they shouldn't try to sugarcoat the harsh reality.

I'm thankful to whomever posted this, because it really made me think. It's certainly a fair post, and I imagine a lot of our applicants share these sentiments. A million years ago when I was applying to college, perhaps I would have felt the same way.

I've written before about how the class is selected, but I'm too tired to dig up the post so I'll give a quick recap. First you apply. Your application is read by a senior staff member who will look for deal-breakers (like a bunch of D's, for example). Assuming you're competitive, your application is then read by a primary reader who will summarize it at length for the committee. Then a second reader (and sometimes a third) will read and write their own summaries. Then it will go to selection committee, where multiple groups of different admissions staff and faculty members will weigh in on it. Assuming you've made it that far, the senior staff will then review it again, and then finally Marilee will spend some time with it before it gets put definitively into the admit pile. Approximately 12 people (give or take) will significantly discuss and debate your application before you're admitted. This is all very intentional; committee decisions ensure that every decision is correct in the context of the overall applicant pool, and that no one individual's bias or preferences or familiarity with a given case has any chance of swaying a decision unfairly.

With that in mind, let me tell you a little bit about what my job is like from November through March. Three days a week, I take a random bunch of applications to the public library, find a quiet corner, and immerse myself in your lives.

I read about your triumphs, I read about your dreams, I read about the tragedies that define you. I read about your passions, your inventions, your obsession with video games, dance, Mozart, Monet. I read about the person close to you who died. I read about your small towns, your big cities, the week you spent abroad that changed your life. I read about your parents getting divorced, your house burning down, your girlfriend cheating on you. I read about the car you rebuilt with your dad, the championship debate you lost, the team you led to failure, the performance you aced. I read about the people you've helped and the people you've hurt. I read about how you've stood tall in the face of racism, homophobia, poverty, injustice.

Then I read about the lives you've changed - a math or science teacher, a humanities teacher, a counselor. I read the things that they probably don't say to your face for fear of inflating your ego: that you're the best in their careers, that kids like you are the reason they chose to be a teacher in the first place, that they're better people for having known you.

If you've had an interview, I get to read about how you come across in person to someone you've just met - how your face lights up at the mention of cell biology, how you were five minutes late because you had an audition, how your smile can fill a room, how you simply shine.

(Your grades and scores are clearly competitive or your application wouldn't be on my pile in the first place.)

By now I'm fully invested in you so I write a gazillion nice things about you in your summary and I'm smiling the whole time. I talk about your depth, all the ways you're a great match to MIT, all the things I know you'll contribute to campus. I conclude with phrases like "clear admit" and "perfect choice." In my head I imagine bumping into you on the Infinite Corridor, asking you how your UROP is going, seeing your a cappella group perform.

I come home each night and tell my wife over dinner how lucky I am, because I never seem to pick boring applications out of the pile. In fact, I tell her, I'm inspired enough by the stories I read to think that the world might actually turn out to be okay after all.

In March I go into committee with my colleagues, having narrowed down my top picks to a few hundred people. My colleagues have all done the same. Then the numbers come in: this year's admit rate will be 13%. For every student you admit, you need to let go of seven others.

What? But I have so many who... But...

And then the committee does its work, however brutal. It's not pretty, but at least it's fair. (And by fair I mean fair in the context of the applicant pool; of course it's not fair that there are so few spots for so many qualified applicants.)

When it's all over, about 13% of my top picks are offered admission. I beg, I plead, I make ridiculous promises (just ask the senior staff) but at the end of the day, a committee decision is a committee decision.

Of my many favorites this year, there were a few who really got to me, and when they didn't get in, the tears came. Some would call me foolish for getting this wrapped up in the job, but honestly, I couldn't do this job if I disconnected myself from the human component of it. It's my job to present you to the committee; if your dream of being at MIT didn't become my dream on some small level, then really, why am I doing this at all? Others would disagree, but then, others aren't me.

To the 87% of you who have shared your lives with us and trusted us with your stories over the last four months, please know that they meant something to me, and I won't forget you. When I say that I share the pain of these decisions with you, I'm not lying. I'm really not lying.

To the person up there who said "while it's supposed to be comforting, obviously, I just find it really insincere" - you have it backwards. I don't expect it (or anything else) to be comforting at this moment. But insincere? No. Not that.

Just got confirmation that the USPS picked up the mail (for real), so it's on the way. I'll be thinking about all of you.

This blog post just makes my tears fall down.

Going to be a senior in 2 months, I kind of understand what it's like to go through this application process. Not what the process is like, but what it feels like. Anxiety. Fear. Loneliness. Powerlessness. No matter how competent you are, you still feel like it's a destination you can never make it to.

That's to say, I'm not competent at all. I wasn't informed soon enough to be prepared enough. My sophomore year's grades suck. I don't know if I have the strong, irreplaceable passion for sciences and engineering as others applying to MIT do. The only thing I have is this irrational faith and hope.

Yet, I decided to try anyways. I'm not sure that I will make it, but I'm sure I will never do if I don't try. I also have a life with dreams, ambitions, hope, and all that behind. And so does every single one of the applicants. But many, many of us will learn that our dreams do not always come true.

That's sad, I know. That's scary too. And right, that's brutal. I'll get turned down if I'm not who they're looking for, I understand that very well, and I think it's highly reasonable. But still, it's all our long dreams and hope...

The old woman at the hospital used to tell me that once I grew up, I would realized that what college I went to wouldn't matter at all. These days, with Natchan's death and Yanik and Carol's accident, I guess she's right. Those are people of my ages, and they were just so close to my life, and just by a single moment I could lose them forever. We never know what will happen tomorrow. After hearing about Yanik and Carol, I thought it would be OK to show my parents that I'm sad, but I couldn't. Instead, I joked and laughed with them, talked to them cheerfully... because I won't do what could happen to them tomorrow.

Thinking of such life and death problems, being rejected from college doesn't seem to be the end of the world, yeah. But still, it's heart-breaking. It has been our dreams and hope...