One Reason to be Glad I Got Rejected

Quite a bit of news has surfaced recently about the mumps outbreak at our dear Harvard. In truth, the outbreak began back in February, but had not been publicized previously because precautions were being taken to isolate patients and prevent spread. With over forty confirmed cases up to this point, the university seems to have been unable to contain the outbreak, which means bad things for Harvard students.

Mumps has become a fairly rare problem in the United States because it is easily preventable with a vaccine. Now you're thinking 'okay, so those students weren't vaccinated, so what?'
The problem is, they were. All of the students currently affected were immunized, as per university regulation, and yet they contracted the virus anyway. So how is that even possible?

Since Harvard students come from all over the country (and the world), these students received their vaccines from many different locations, eliminating the possibility of a bad batch of vaccines. Thus, in my estimation, the only remaining possibility is that the strain of virus in this outbreak is resistant to the vaccine.

We interrupt this post to ask a very important question: why does the biohazard symbol look so darn cool? It's literally my favorite symbol in all the world of symbols. But I digress.

Now, before we all start jumping to conclusions, we should establish what the danger level is for this virus. I'm a bit of a disease junkie myself; I love movies like Contagion, I play games like Pandemic and Plague, Inc. and I have done multiple school projects on everything from cholera to the bubonic plague, so I'm personally fascinated by the logistics of this type of outbreak.

The virus is basically non-lethal, seeing as the symptoms consist of inflammation, fever, aches and pains and headache, and nearly all patients make a full recovery. So essentially life and limb are not at stake here, but it can make for a very unpleasant few weeks.

In order to minimize the number of students enduring those unpleasant few weeks, Harvard has admonished their students to take the outbreak seriously and to 'stop infecting each other.' The virus is transmitted through saliva, mucus and respiratory fluids/vapors (so it isn't exactly an airborne pathogen, but I wouldn't let anyone breathe on me if I were them), so as a word of warning to anyone who is actually at Harvard, do try to minimize contact with any of those fluids.

Returning to the title of the post. I'm not actually glad I got rejected, and I never will be, but I may have secured a unique benefit: I wasn't at Harvard for Admitted Students Weekend (refer to previous post). Cases began in February, meaning that anyone who has stepped onto the Harvard campus since February has been at some degree of risk. Theoretically anyone visiting the school on that weekend, including me if I had been accepted, could have been infected. And seeing as the virus is not currently contained and seems to ignore immunization, undocumented cases are roaming the campus at this very moment, infecting more unlucky souls. The threat is real.

So I suppose I get to count my blessings this time, since I'm currently at home, at precisely zero risk of mumps. But that could change, if the virus is indeed unaffected by vaccines (cue dramatic music)

In all seriousness, my sympathies go out to anyone unfortunate enough to be enduring the illness, and I hope those uninfected Harvard students will take measures to keep themselves healthy. I have full faith in the university's resources and ability to handle the outbreak, and I wish them the best, but frankly I'm glad it's one thing I don't have to worry about. So I guess I sort of won? Yeah, let's go with that.

Hic Manebimus Optime.

Non-Admitted Students Weekend

This past weekend was the Admitted Students Weekend at Harvard, an event where admitted freshmen for the class of 2020 are encouraged to visit the school to learn more about what it's like to live there.
I obviously did not spend that weekend in Cambridge, as much as I would have liked it. Being inexhaustibly hopeful, I had tried to keep that weekend clear on my schedule, but my rejection left me with a conspicuous hole on the calendar. So how did I spend that time?

I went to PrepperCon. This is not a prep school convention, as one friend misinterpreted. This is a convention for doomsday preppers. And they had everything. Gigantic trucks, tents, generators, filtration systems, weapons, ammunition, shelters, firestarters and an abundance of preserved food (and therefore free samples). There was even a custom-built hurricane simulator that allowed guests to be exposed to 120-mile-per-hour winds.

While there, I attended a seminar on preparing for and survivng an EMP (electromagnetic pulse, for the layman). As an amateur sci-fi author with an interest in post-apocalypse stories, this was pure gold. I learned a whole bunch of stuff about Faraday cages, phases of disruption and arc lightning, but the most interesting parts were about reconstructing a society after an EMP. Since national infrastructure would collapse, self-sufficiency, sanitation and defense become the largest concerns.

As much as I'd love to keep talking about the EMP class, I know that if you're genuinely interested you can learn more from Wikipedia than from me. This is, after all, a chronicle of post-Ivy League rejection, not post-apocalypse survival, so I figure I should move on to the other displays.

This is a picture of frankly the scariest truck I've ever seen. I'm in there for scale; keep in mind, at 6'3" I'm not exactly short, and this thing is huge. It boasts six-wheel drive, the ability to ford six feet of water and EMP hardening, and it's even street legal. Though why you would worry about street legality in the apocalypse, I have no idea. It burns enough fuel you would never drive it while society is still functioning. Oh, and the zombies all over it are a nice touch.

This is a Vital Dome. It's a survival structure not meant so much for camping, but for replacing your house should it be destroyed. It's designed to last through three years of continuous living, and the transparent panels allow it to glean heat from the sun. It can also be retrofitted with woodburning stoves, solar panels and every kind of furniture to make it your home sweet home in the aftermath of a disaster.

These tents are designed to be mounted on top of your car. Being above ground, you aren't at risk from encounters with small wildlife, and a condensation pad and integrated floor padding ensure that you can sleep comfortably with no accumulation of mold. I actually want one of these, because it would work extremely well for camping. I saw another one on top of a jeep towing a Base Camp trailer, which had a sink, water heater, solar panels, shower, plenty of storage space, a Faraday cage for EMP-proof tech storage and a steel frame thick enough to resist lower-caliber bullets. I want one of those, too, but I'll have to wait until I have a grown-up job. And a car to pull it with.

Lastly, I couldn't leave without a particular machete that caught my eye. I'm going to enjoy having that on camping trips, as well.

I'm highly satisfied with my use of Non-Admitted Students Weekend myself, and I would encourage any Rejects out there to make the most of it. It's our time, and we should make it memorable.

Hic Manebimus Optime!


For more information regarding any of the things I mentioned, refer to these handy links:
PrepperCon
Vital Domes
Base Camp Trailers
Tuff Trucks
EMP Wikipedia Article

Housing Misadventures

I am happy to report that I did successfully finish my online classes, so my graduation from high school is no longer under direct threat (refer to previous post if that sentence made no sense to you). I imagine it will be liberating to no longer have to worry about such things, since I have been doing online classes for the last four years. What will I do with the extra time? Frankly, I have no idea. But I'll come up with something pretty quickly, I'm sure. Just you wait.
In the meantime, the gap left by online classes will be filled with studying for AP tests. There's always something else, isn't there? Another three weeks and things should let up; then we'll be into movie-watching season (last year in calculus we watched all of the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy after the AP test was over).

But enough of that; on to something that relates to the title of the post!
Now that I know I won't be moving off to Hogwarts--um, I mean, Harvard in the fall, I need to secure housing arrangements at my mid-range school. It all started with finding a room, a process described in several emails I had received from the university. I knew how this was going to work. I logged on to the housing portal at the time and on the day that I was instructed (this was with priority status, mind you) only to find that there were a whopping zero beds available in on-campus housing. None.

Well, that isn't entirely true. There were a few beds available in the sardine-can dormitories where students are required to purchase a meal plan, but zero in the apartments with kitchens (that's where I wanted to live). My reasoning for not wanting a meal plan is simple enough: it costs about twice as much as actual groceries cost, and I don't want to put my hard-earned scholarship money into cafeteria food. So essentially I had the makings of a very serious problem on my hands.
Fortunately for me, the university in question told me when cancellations in the desired facility would be posted so that I could switch into one.
The chase was on.
So there I sat, staring at the computer screen moments before the clocks struck four. As soon as the counter reached 3:59.59, I refreshed the page and saw that the number zero had changed to six. Not a lot of real estate for the hundreds of students who wanted a slot (and likely dozens who were sitting there hoping to catch one), but at least it wasn't zero. I frantically clicked through the first one I could find--only to receive an error that the bed was taken. That was within the first three seconds.
I backed up and clicked on another, and this time it worked. I had a room. The other four were gone within another ten seconds. I count myself lucky to have gotten one, but I want to make it known that I owe my victory entirely to my years of "sniping" classic Lego sets on eBay in the final five seconds of the auction. Fear my nerd powers.
This is far from the end of the road. I may have escaped the overly expensive meal plan, but my new room was on the first floor of the building, and I would much rather have a higher floor to reduce the amount of noise coming from above. I have a chance now, though, and before this I had none. Now that I have a space in the proper building, I can hopefully trade with someone on a higher floor, which should be a much less stressful process than the adrenaline-pumping escapade of getting a room in the first place. Until then, I have more high school to attend to. Those AP exams aren't getting any farther away.

Hic Manebimus Optime!

One Week Later

It has been seven days since I received my rejection letters. I seem to be holding up okay, or at least as well as I expected. The fact is, I haven't been able to worry too much about college-related things recently because I am faced with a serious threat to my graduation from high school, and in my mind closer deadline = more important.
So what is this threat to my graduation? It's not grades, citizenship, attendance, unpaid fees or anything else that would normally put someone in this position.

It's online classes.
I know, not very interesting. But unfortunately in order to take the electives I wanted (and which would bolster an application to, say, an Ivy League school, but you know how that turned out), I have had to take multiple classes online throughout high school. Most of them I finished with no problems, but those aforesaid applications consumed enough time that I neglected them this year, and now I must have them finished by April 15 in order to graduate. I at least feel that I have company in this because incidentally, millions of people fear this day, albeit for entirely different reasons.

So here I am, slogging through the last two quarters of Health and Fitness For Life, both of which seem to be unapologetic reruns of classes I had to take in junior high. For something so boring, they sure seem to be able to pack in a disproportionate amount of busywork. Honestly, an entire unit on fat? Really?

Next week I will be able to say whether or not I actually finished (I will finish, it just won't be fun), but to distract myself momentarily I prepared a list of the top ten most interesting things I did in the week following my rejection. This is what I did:

1. Started writing my second book (I'm taking a temporary break from editing the first)
2. Got the class high score on a test in AP Stats (I'm proud of this one because I'm in a class with That One Guy who wrecks the curve)
3. Visited my grandparents for my granddad's birthday (always nice)
4. Built an awesome blanket fort (no really, this entails lashing PVC frames together with rope. I'll do a post on it later to prove it.)
5. Got an extra hour of sleep on Saturday because I no longer have to get up early for swim practice
6. Lost that hour when I had to stay up late doing AP Government homework on Monday
7. Found myself tangled in a huge housing mess with my mid-range school (things are looking better, I'll probably also talk about this later)
8. Wore my Harvard t-shirt on April Fool's day (the day after admissions decisions--people fell for it, too)
9. Successfully got a 16-bit computer game from 1999 running in Windows 8.1 on the new computer (you do not understand how much work it took to save Lego Rock Raiders.)
10. Watched the Rogue One trailer at least eleven times within two hours of it coming out.

If this list doesn't prove how much of a nerd I am, nothing will. But it is my sincere hope that this will demonstrate that getting rejected isn't the end of the world, and maybe motivate a fellow Reject to find ways to see the bright side while I'm at it.

Hic Manebimus Optime!