COLUMN: Pass the Sandpaper

From Tim Zeigler's "Turn Your Head and Cough?," Fall '94 Much of this would be a merely mind-numbing -- but relatively painless -- process if all applications simply required the usual mindless drivel that some beaurocrats believe to be a measure of the man or woman -- grades, tardiness in high school, SAT, LSAT, MCAT, and extracurriculars... that highly-suspect combination of "hard numbers" and mindless fluff of which so many resumes are made. However, the higher we climb in our noble aspirations, the more often we encounter a most vile beast, a wretched troll that lurks beneath our perceived bridge to a better life. With the savage fury of all the hounds of hell it emerges to unmercifully snare the naive aspirations of young innocents silly enough to seek self-improvement through higher education. This beast is the "short personal statement." As students of this university, or any others for that matter, chances are you have encountered and effectively coped with this masturbational exercise. A more callous person may deem the "personal statement" a rite of passage, a necessary evil. "I had to do one, why shouldn't they?" Surely, time has blunted the sharpness of the agony, but try to recall your own experiences. Remember the near giddiness of cruising through the early portions of the applications... name? No problem. date of birth? Yep. I got one of those, too. I think it's written down somewhere... GPA? Whatever... Then with the final turn to the the last page of the application, you are floored faster than the gas pedal of O.J.'s Bronco with Al Cowlings at the wheel... short personal statement of less than 1000 words that encapsulates your essence and justifies the net increase in entropy that your basic metabolism creates? Shit... Isn't there a game on?... That sock drawer of mine is just a swamp, maybe now would be a good time to rearrange... Recall the smug, mocking laughter of previously trusted friends or family members whom you had asked to proofread your efforts. Imagine a kinder, gentler nation that offered opportunities for advancement without having to bullshit about how fascinated you were when Grandma's butt boil exploded with enough force to launch the heating pad across the room and leave a stain on the ceiling of the living room (Despite the hours of conversation the stain provided in the years to come -- "I think it looks like a ducky." "No, it definitely looks like the outline of French New Guinea before the war with the Eskimos..."). Should people be compelled to brag about selling a zillion boxes of candy so the high school band could buy new, uglier, polyester uniforms? It's a godless world if the answer is yes.. So what is the purpose of all this pain? First, acknowledge the obvious. If you aren't bright enough to fake a thousand words of sincerity, you can still probably scrap together enough bucks to pay some extremely sincere capitalist to write it for you. Thus, if the notion of the short personal statement as "window to the soul" is laughingly discarded, what possible function could it serve? Countless hours of perseveration on the topic have yielded exactly one less-than-noble possibility. It demonstrates that the applicant is pathetically desperate enough to subject himself or herself to extreme humiliation in order to be considered further for whatever the position may be. It is just another little hoop for you to jump through, and a damn good indicator that they can make you keep jumping, rolling over, and playing dead. On a more philosophical note, how valid is it for any young people to be asked by any adult behind a desk to justify their existence? Especially in the context of today's world of congressional stamp-stealers and All-Star wife beaters, shouldn't the people already in charge of this giant shit-burger of a planet be the ones to engage in some forced introspection, a little screening of their justifications and motivations? How about a short personal statement from our President Clinton? Maybe he could explain why the hell he didn't inhale. Did President Rodin submit one as part of her application for the opening here? In truth, the only proper time for "serious" self-examination is over a few cups of liquid (brew, coffee, whatever...) with some good friends, or just after you've stepped out of a hot shower (with or without friends.) In the off-chance that one's true motivations do emerge from a well-spring of sincerity and nobility, doesn't it violate and trivialize them to slap them down on written applications for the cause of personal advancement and self-promotion? Considering the agony of actually writing one of these pieces is on par with thumbscrews (I'd rather sandpaper a bobcat's butt in a phone booth), surely whatever marginal theoretical function they serve can not justify their continuation. Nearing the ends of their lives, it was traditional for Zen Masters to write a final poem. Known as Death Poetry, the verse was to serve as a summation of life and final inspiration for disciples -- all this was usually accomplished in well under twenty words, but Total Enlightenment will do that for you. I think the pointlessness of short personal statements, as well as statements in general, were best captured by the words of Ta-hui Tsung-kao: Life as we Find it -- death too. A parting poem? Why insist? Tim Zeigler is a fourth-year medical student from Williamsport, Pennsylvania. Turn Your Head and Cough... appears alternate Wednesdays.