I flew into Baltimore, MD, where my grandparents live. They used to have a massive house but it was a lot of unnecessary space and too much to maintain, so they got a cool new place in a little community-type area. The entire community is constructed around a quarry that was turned into a lake. It's a beautiful lake, but about 300 feet deep and, in my opinion, quite terrifying.
Here is the view from my window. Absolutely horrifying, nightmarish, isn't it?
That night we ate dinner and caught up on things... the next morning we all woke up early and set out for New York: a 3.5 hour drive plowing through several other states in the process. I nodded off for a good deal of the driving portion, but I remember being awake in New Jersey and searching outside my window for some impossible sign of one of my closest friends, who lives in the NJ. Of course, I did not see her or anything from the time I had last visited her, but the feeling was good and that was that.
We finally arrived in New York, and the feeling was monumental. You cross a bridge and it feels ceremonious. And you see the city and all the skyscrapers, and it's almost surreal. I've been to New York before, but I don't think I could ever be less than excited upon entering the Kingdom of the Big Apple.
A FREE apple included with your next visit!
Our first stop was, of course, Pratt Institute. The school was funny. The architecture and the set-up of the school seemed like Pratt had traced a little square of New York out with police tape and then turned that area into a school. And to my knowledge, that's not entirely inaccurate. A lot of the dorms and dorms-in-construction are monstrous apartment buildings the school bought and then converted into dorms.
Like these upperclassmen dorms... pay no attention to the fellow prospective student at the bottom there.
The weather was unusually not-sucky on my entire visit to New York. The weather was in the 80-90F range, which was a stark contrast to the gloom and rain just a few days earlier. There were tulips in bloom all over the city. They looked like someone had taken them from a nursery and planted them there that morning. They were unusual against the gray and brick and dull tones of the city... all of these Easter pinks, whites and yellows dotting the streets.
Pratt has some lovely pink trees which resemble Cherry Blossoms, though I don't think that's what they are. And there are amazing sculptures all over the campus. Here's a little photo summary of some of the campus and Sculpture Garden:
I was led on a tour (with other inquisitive students) of the campus by a senior majoring in Architecture. He was able to answer most questions about general topics and any question about architecture, but no help with the Writing Program, which was what I was admitted to. I was talking to a California representative from Pratt later that day, and she said the Writing Program was fairly new. I did not know this, but it is a recent addition to the Pratt curriculum and only about 10 or 11 years old. In addition, it is the most competitive department on campus, admitting only about 16% and totaling to around 30 students. This was, to say the least, very flattering on my behalf. What seemed most appetizing about Pratt's Writing Program were the following:
1. Internships: Junior year, students spend a semester working an internship... and Pratt has some amazing ones. They said students end up interning on Saturday Night Live, Vogue, Comedy Central, the Village Voice... some really esteemed places. I would KILL to write for SNL. KILL. But in order to intern there you have to WRITE, so... I can do that, too. On a side note, Pratt has a lot of graphic designers and illustrators, and all over the campus were posters from similarly esteemed companies such as Disney, looking for animators to recruit. Pratt has the connections, it would seem.
2. Studios/Workshops: Most schools take forever before you finally get to take the classes you WANT to take, but since Pratt has an art foundation and focuses less on academic structure, as incoming freshman we begin enrolling in numerous Writing Studios immediately. And THAT... well, that just rules.
The dorms were kind of nice, too.
But it would be deceitful to ignore the CONS of the school, which it does have, or I perceive it to have. First off, almost everyone around the campus was what I've deemed a "blue-haired weirdo." The kids who stomp around in combat boots and dread locks and lip piercings and boy haircuts (when they're girls) just to prove to the world how TRULY artistic they are, were everywhere. I like the artsy type, I just don't want to be stuck in a school full of obnoxious, pretentious, "f society" wanna-be hippies. It's just not my style. Some may contest, "But J-Mil, aren't YOU a 'blue-haired weirdo'? I mean, you DO wear neon leopard tights sometimes. And that banana necklace you wear? Ab-surd!"
And the answer is NO. Sure, I may be eclectic (or occasionally look like the inside of a Halloween costume closet), but I don't use my clothing as some sort of statement or "how-you-should-judge-me" litmus test; nor am I socially retarded. Self-glorifying? In jest. (Which, unfortunately, some people just don't get. These are the same people that don't realize Stephen Colbert is a liberal satirizing conservatism.) But I don't paint pictures of skulls with dove wings sprouting out of George Bush's head just to show the world how emotive I am.
This con doesn't play too big of a role because I realize that I am being judgmental, shallow and hypocritical. I'm sure there are plenty of Pratt blue-haired weirdos who are decent enough for my comradery.
Another con; and this turned me off like a pubic hair on a bar of soap: THERE IS NO THEATRE DEPARTMENT. It's an ART school for crying out loud! How can there not even be a... a Drama Club of any sort? As someone who is heavily considering a Minor in theatre, this did not bode well with me. I bet they don't have a dance team either. Believe it or not, the lack of theatre is playing a major role in pitting me against Pratt. I... I need theatre. Any sort of theatre. I'll hire actors from NYU if I need to.
Thirdly, just the cost of attending. Whittier has offered me a full tuition, while with Pratt there is about a 12grand deficit, even with aid. But honestly, I don't know anymore, because I talked to my financial aid counselor at Pratt and she said there were errors on my FAFSA. When I returned home I fixed all the errors, but the process of re-evaluating my need will take about 3 weeks, and I may end up with even less aid than I started with! This has not made the school-choosing process easy, since as of now the cost of attending is essentially a toss-up.
The decision deadline for schools is this Friday. F... M... L. What I've been telling everyone is this: both schools are completely different; what one has the other doesn't. I drew up a PRO/CON list a while back, but I'm making a new one measuring a more, shall we say, semantic? comparison. Basically a comparison of environment.
PRATT PROS:
-Amazing internship opportunities
-Newer/more exciting experience in the heart of New York
-More specific courses for writing
-New York is the literary capital of the USA
-Working in several studios right off the bat
-More focus on art; I will be able to pursue other art forms I've wanted to
-Nicer dorms
WHITTIER PROS:
-Warmer, friendlier community
-Proximity to LA
-Less expensive/minimal student loans to pay after graduation
-Theatre offered
-Can design my own major with the "Whittier Scholars Program"
-Nicer weather
-Opportunities to study abroad
PRATT CONS:
-Anticipated major difficulties in adjusting to new life
-Student body may not be "my type," resulting in loneliness
-More expensive
-Increased chance of being mugged
-NO THEATRE
WHITTIER CONS:
-Might be too boring after a while (not exciting enough)
-Closer to home than preferred
-More fixed/academic structure (not as much art :[)
-Missing out on those internships
So cast your vote. I need help choosing STAT! But on with the rest of my trip.
We explored the many boroughs of New York-- well, Brooklyn, Queens, and Manhattan... I don't think we ever got to the Bronx, and I know we never visited Staten Island. I have a million friends who go to various schools in New York-- three of them go to NYU, which is a strange thing to happen three friends in a row. But I spoke to one of them, a particular Asian woman studying in the Stella Adler studio at NYU, and my grandparents-- bless their hearts-- DROVE (bad idea, for future reference) to her part of town so I could visit her. She and I saw a play in the studio; a black box set-up of a show called "Six Passionate Women." It was funny, and I saw a penis or two. Gasp! It was fun visiting and the familiarity was exciting, even in a city I had only been in for one day and accompanied by my granny and grampa.
The two Gs and I stayed in a hotel in Laguardia overnight, and scoured the city some more the next day. We got breakfast at a bakery of all places; it was an unhealthy but simply scrumptious start to the day. We drove around the neighborhoods and walked around a flea market, all the while my grandma reading off the name of every bagel shop we passed. Driving around and looking at the buildings got me to speculating about the infrastructure here versus back home. Everything in New York was so tightly packed with no elbow room. So many people. And since the buildings couldn't build out, they built upward instead. Even the trees' branches tilted more vertically than in California, where red woods and pine trees shoot outward obtusely like large-hipped women. I wondered why we didn't have such large skyscrapers in California and then remembered that we had no reason for them. Such height was unnecessary... what on earth would we do with them?
We set off to drive back home around noon. Grandma and Grandpa had a place in mind they wanted to stop for dinner. This place, normally about 15 minutes from the main turnpike, took us FOR-EVER to reach. Traffic unlike any I have ever experienced piled up for at least 7 miles in front of us and God Knows How Far behind. It was sheer gridlock for those 7 miles. My grandpa would do some illegal maneuvering and my grandma would shriek at him, and I was in the back seat fighting off a decidedly inconvenient bout of cramping. For the amount of time the car picked up the reception, I spent a good deal of the nightmare listening to a talk radio station interviewing a man who wrote a book about how stand-up comedians of the 70s changed the world. I found it interesting. He talked a great deal about Steve Martin, John Belushi, and Chris Farley (who was apparently a very close childhood friend of his). That captured my interest until the station fizzled out and we listened to some other stupid program with sitcom-style jokes. Ugh.
When we finally got out of that horrid mess of traffic 2 and a half hours later, we arrived at the diner my grandparents were keen on, and were blown away. It was a country cafe that didn't seem much different than any other, except it was Greek, which meant there were over 200 menu items and the proportions were absurdly huge. I honestly don't think I have ever seen such big food. I got through about an eighth of my sandwich and ended up finishing it on the travel home today, but yeesh... so full... so much food.
This morning I had to wake up slightly early to catch my flight home. My first flight to Denver went without a hitch. However, the downtime until my next flight was about 4 hours and ended up taking even longer. My gate number changed about 5 or 6 times, and it was very irritating hauling my things back and forth along the terminal like a koopa. An amiable and good-looking man offered to help me with my suitcase, but we were going in opposite directions, so, no airport match-making for J-Mil. Not only did my gate keep changing, but there was some mechanical trouble and the flight was delayed; THIS kept getting pushed back further and further. During this wait time I finally finished reading Catch-22. The book is, in short, an amazing piece of literature and as uproariously funny as it is logical and profound. I cannot recommend it higher if you have time to read a book as long as Catch-22. This is the first book that I've finished that I haven't been required to finish for a very long time.
Well, it's about time for me to be hitting the old musty dusty bed. Good night, pleasant dreams, et cetera.
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