Personal Essay

Last Monday, I had to write a personal essay for a school application. The question asked who I was, what my story was, and why did it bring me here to this program. The essay was to be graded based on comprehension of task and storytelling ability as well as basic spelling and grammar.

The essay was handwritten in about 30 minutes. It was to be a page and a half, single-spaced.

Here is roughly what I wrote about:

• My name is Annie Chen and I am applying to the Copywriting program. 
• For so much of my life, I have written. It is my personal and academic life. It is the stack of black Moleskine journals sitting on my shelf. It is the countless hours sitting in plain, uninspiring old gymnasiums writing 3-hour exams for my political studies degree. 
• Writing is describing everything since I was 16. It is my first degree, my first heartbreak, my first time having sex, my first time living on my own. It is all the moments of joy but also wrinkled with tears. Some of my Moleskine journals are bursting at the seams, filled with personal anecdotes and movie stubs. 
• Writing is my political studies degree that I cannot even call a science. It is countless hours of writing in exam rooms, and watching the sun rise as I try to finish my next paper that does not include much bias. Political studies is arguing for a point, but it is not to show too much bias. It is to convince someone, but to do so without too harsh of an opinion. 
• I have struggled for almost two years since I graduated in June of 2015. I have struggled trying to rediscover my bias, my opinions, my passion. My political studies degree has stripped me of my bias. It has stripped me of the indignation and fire of the 16-year-old. I want my bias back. 
• What better way is there than advertising, where bias and persuasion is set and undeniable?

This is some of the points of my personal essay. I compared my personal writing to my academic writing. I talked about the bias present in my own writing and the bias that is supposed to be hidden in my academic writing. I talked about bias as a sense of direction, and one that I have since lost after being told that it cannot be shown. I say that I enjoy writing, and I want to rediscover it. I want to go to the Copywriting program. 

On February 15th, I was emailed my offer. Starting September 2017, I will be going back to school. 

In Memory Of

I'm talking to my old roommate and I want to cry. I say to her, "It's weird thinking back to the last day on campus and knowing that I'll always go back to Queen's, but it won't be home anymore."

Back in April, I distinctly remember standing in front of Stauffer Library at Union and University, looking across the street to the John Deutsch University Centre. I thought to myself that I will never be back in that spot.

Kingston, Ontario, Canada is only a three hour drive from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, where I live now. Queen's University has a long homecoming tradition and a strong community. I will always go visit Queen's and Kingston. I will visit next year to see my friends who are still studying at Queen's, I will return later still to see Queen's again. It's not the last time. The visits will just be less frequent than every day, going to my classes or the library.

Queen's University and the time I spent there from ages 17 to 21 will always, always hold a special place in my heart and soul.

In March, I am sitting in my bedroom with a Queen's alumnus. He graduated two years ago. We met at a wine-and-cheese alumni event in Ottawa. I tell him that I'm terrified to be leaving Queen's - excited, but terrified. I tell him I will miss my friends and the moments we shared together. He told me that things will be OK, he said that sometimes visiting Queen's is even better than being there. I told him I loved my friends, I loved living with them and being able to pop into their houses at any time. Still, sitting in my bedroom now in Toronto, I hope the alumnus is right. Life will be OK, and Queen's will always be a pleasant visit in the future.

If not for Queen's, I don't know what kind of person I would be. I believe in nurture over nature, that we are a product of our environments.

I chose Queen's University and moved to Kingston, Ontario, Canada because at 17, I desperately wanted to run away. I didn't feel happy anymore. I wanted Queen's University to become a home I built by myself, for myself. And it did. I arrived at Queen's knowing four people - a guy friend from middle school and three other kids from my high school. I left Queen's having made some of my best friends and knowing some of the best people. I left Queen's having discovered more of myself, and more importantly, having found family.

A month before the typical return to Queen's, I miss it. I miss my friends, I miss the campus, I miss the professors. I miss Stauffer Library. I miss walking by the gym I never went to. I miss getting Booster Juice and Quiznos. I miss QP and weekend wings nights. Oh, and the sangria. There are so many details. I loved my time there. I can't believe I'm a Queen's alumnae.

Disposable Project

For my final year of my undergraduate degree, I decided to purchase disposable cameras to document this last year. The idea was that I would develop the cameras after the year was over and I'll cry because of how beautiful my friends were, and how happy we looked. The following are some of my favourite shots:

I don't know if you, dear reader, have ever seen How I Met Your Mother (2005-2014), but the opening sequence of the show is a small slideshow of photographs - moments from the gang's time at their local MacLaren's Pub. The photographs are taken with a disposable camera one night at the pub. I want these photos and this project to resemble that. I want to look back at these photos and think of my time with my friends as fun, adventurous and unapologetically innocent.

Youth is the eternal summer, the beer and cheap wine induced smile. The bonafide family of rosy-cheeked friends, made only more beautiful by dim lighting and disposable cameras. Gangly bodies draped by precious clothing and precocious smiles. We drink till 4 in the morning and laugh till 6. A salute to the beautiful girls and dashing boys. 

Pictured in the above are: Tamar, Mishi, Sarah, Charlotte, Sammy, Andrew, Taylor, Shabs, Ross, Ellen, Griffin, Devonte, Nefisa, Sierra and myself.

A New Beginning

A little while ago, I posted the following onto Facebook:

I want to start a blog called My Quarter Life Crisis detailing my trials and tribulations with boys, school, job applications, grad school applications, ~the future~, boys, my friends, alcohol and the rare psychedelic experience. This blog will make me famous and I will become the next Lena Dunham. My blog will be published as a book of essays and then produced as the next big Girls-meet-Sex and the City TV show (even though my life is nothing like Sex and the City).

No, I am not drunk.

That was back in September of 2014. I think I must've been working on a paper. I can't remember, but I was definitely frustrated with something. I was beginning my last year of my undergraduate degree in ~political studies~ and ~philosophy~. I was worried. Fast forward to May of 2015, I am done all my exams and all my papers. I am a month away from getting that special little piece of paper worth four years of sweat, tears, coffee and Monster energy drinks. I have no idea what I'm doing with my life.

Right now, I'm sitting in my favourite coffee shop in Toronto with a cup of coffee, some water and half a sea salt chocolate chip cookie. I didn't apply to graduate school. I don't have a job (yet). I kind of have an idea of what I want to do, but I'm not that sure. I don't feel like I have enough experience to be really picky. I don't feel like the Canadian economy has a magnitude of jobs for me to be really picky. Ideally though, I'll like to do something creative and it would do some good for general society. Maybe the children. Always think of the children.

I've been back in Toronto for one week and two days now. In this one week, I think I got very drunk once and drank enough on a couple of other occasions to be tipsy. I 've been to the Art Gallery of Ontario and a couple of other art exhibitions. I re-downloaded Tinder on a boring Monday or Tuesday morning. I bought a new pair of shoes, a new thrifted dress and a lot of lunches and dinners. I have checked my grades multiple times, but only one has been posted. I've been sketching a lot, painting a bit. I've been wearing shorts and short cut dresses and tops at inappropriate times. My mother has asked me every day, multiple times a day when I am going to get a job. Mother, I don't know.

Life after school has been tricky to say the least, and it has only been a week. I try to remain hopeful and optimistic about the future though. Everyone else makes it, so I should assume that I will too. We will go with that for now. Until I ~make it~, this blog shall serve as my Lena-Dunham-Carrie-Bradshaw pathway to fame (or sufficient funds for survival). If all else fails, perhaps it will be a funny experiment, part of a larger anthropology of a 20-something in these trying decades.

Anyways, I should go back to applying for jobs. Before so, I will declare: this blog will be my very honest recollection of my post-student life. Maybe this will be funny. Maybe this will be pathetic and tragic. Let's see. Stay tuned.

PS. I decided to start this blog in the 10-minute span that was my walk over to the coffee shop.

PPS. Please e-mail job opportunities, money, money for art, and music recommendations to annie.chen@live.com.