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I’m about to make the next big step in my art career and apply to graduate school. The new BFA is a MFA and you pretty much need a PHD after that in order to avoid a full time job working at Coffee Bean. Don’t try to get help or advice on the GradCafe site, it’s just a bunch of pansies powdering each other’s asses with talc. I’ve been going out every day and pumping myself up to write this entry essay. I start by getting a super burrito for brunch, then I head over to my local Scientology center and take a test from a girl who thinks that an Orgone-like machine really works. I finish by spending an hour laying in a tanning booth covered in tingle cream. I narrowed it down to three programs. I had applied for a janitorial job at one of them once and lied about all previous work experience. After my interview, I didn’t get the job so I think my chances of acceptance there are slim.  

Dear Sir or Madam:

Please take the time to visualize a twelve year old girl (that I paid $10 to) on the floor, humping an inanimate object just to show you how much I want to fuck your school. I’m special because I believe it. I have some weird ass dents in my thumbnails but I still put polish on them. I already wrote about that for my college essay, so now I need to spice this up. I’m a white female from an upper class family who has struggled to support herself financially because my father believes in hard work, persistence and eating bologna sandwiches for dinner. I’m embarrassed to show my feet because at this point, my nails are completely rotten underneath and smell like a poor man’s cheese balls. 

At an early age, I was put into private school because I was too much of a genius. I stuck quarters into chicken nuggets at lunch when the other kids smeared pudding in my cubby. I won’t stalk or harass your alumni on facebook if you just let me in. Don’t waitlist me, that’s bullshit. 

I chose ART. I am destined to be a harder working individual than many others. I’m not trying to come off as too competitive with the other 600 applicants, but inviting me to your school would be the best thing you could do all year.  Can you honestly tell me that focusing on being creative and needing to sit in an office for 8 hours every day, isn’t total crap? My talents are going to waste every time I send all staff memos to clear the sink and throw away moldy Yum Tum Thai from the fridge. I have a trust fund (amount is currently unknown to me, but I know it’s enough to own over a dozen purposeless miniature ponies, a castle, your tuition and a trendy waxing salon that I’d name, il Pesce.) 

Lately, my work has been shining, like the children’s book: Rainbow Fish. I’m able to listen to people when they tell me my ideas are shit. One time, I took photographs of my BAV (boob, ass, vag) and continued the project for three years with the hopes that in 20, I would have a huge retrospective of my work. People would want to see how my hair growth and changes in weight were dictated by society (and the men I slept with.) Several people critiqued the project and the only thing that could keep me from crying, were Woopie cushions and helium balloons. I developed a sincere hatred for any kind of pussy art.  I stopped my morning routine of bending and spreading naked in front of my Macbook.

I’ve grown since then, it’s not all about me. Instead, it’s much more about Kim Kardashian and lonely buoys, eerily chiming in a foggy Maine harbor. It’s about getting elderly, overweight New Englanders to dance in the seafood section of the grocery store, Flash Mob style. I tried to give a group hug to an entire West Oakland neighborhood. My work is about playing up the little things we do and putting a big spoonful of Cool Whip and Mayo on top, just to mess with your head. I made a wedding dress out of a parachute that a groom almost died from, on a vacation jump. I installed thousands of willow weather sticks that bend up and down on a wall, (depending on how wet or dry it is outside), with a picture of myself dressed as Jesus above them. The final product that the viewers see, are always simple and romantic. I honestly just need your school to wear cute dresses and schmooze with high profile pricks whose breathe smells like duct tape and scallops. I want to succeed and have big sparkles shoot from my fingertips with a giant musical theater blast of frenzy, freedom and lobster bisque bombs! Your school will act as a jungle gym for my guerilla mind.

When all is said and done you might get invited for an interview. Wear nothing special and go into this process with high hopes and great expectations. Everything in art has already been done before, maybe the way you are doing it is always going to be slightly different than everyone else. 

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