Appendix
College Application Essay
Applicant: Jex Blackwell
Essay Topic: Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family.
Essay Title: Jex Blackwell Saves the World.
My name is Jex Blackwell and I am going to save the world. I am going to cure all the sick people, alleviate the pain of the suffering and comfort the dying. I am going to banish cancer and extend life expectancies by a hundred years. AIDS and Zika and Ebola – all will be in our rearview mirror.
OK, my name isn’t Jex Blackwell and I probably won’t save the world. I was born Debbie Gibson – not the pop diva; just a dumb L.A. kid – a few months before some airplanes hit the Twin Towers in New York. I can’t say that tragedy, or any other tragedy, made me want to become a doctor. I only know that I wanted to be a doctor since I can remember. I can’t say why. It’s just always been there.
Tragedy is a funny word and people use it to mean a lot of things. September 11, that’s a good example. Not many people would debate that qualifies as a tragedy. But I don’t even remember it happening. I was in diapers at the time. All I know is the endless war ever since – my entire life. That’s a tragedy, too.
Some people would say that I have seen my share of personal tragedies. My father died when I was eleven years old. Cancer. My mom died two years later. Drugs. I lived with my uncle for a while; he is nice enough. He is gone now, too. So, last year, I became emancipated. I’m a free girl. I’m all on my own. And even though I’m young, I’ve lived a lot in these few years. Sometimes in places I wasn’t wanted. Sometimes in places I didn’t want to be. Sometimes on the Streets. I headed down some scary avenues, literally and metaphorically. I hope I have seen the last of those dark roads. Maybe I have and maybe I haven’t. I try not to think much about it.
And since my emancipation – which is a funny word, too, because what is it, really? – I have seen other people’s tragedy. I spend a lot of time at the County Hospital in downtown Los Angeles, where I volunteer as an assistant, cleaning and organizing; the grunt work. I see a lot of tragedy there. I spend the rest of my time shelving books for minimum wage at the Central Library not far from the County Hospital. Sometimes, I just walk around downtown late into the evening, thinking. I see a lot of tragedy there, too. Mothers losing children; kids losing parents; families losing their home; all clinging to dignity in the face of blunt tragedy. Not a lot of freedom. Not a lot of emancipated people. A lot of people in pain. A lot of loss. A lot of nameless heroes. Hero is another funny word.
Sophia Jex-Blake is a hero, to me at least. She is a nineteenth century feminist who helped establish the first medical school in Britain that was chartered especially for women. She became the first female doctor in Edinburgh and fought her life not only to ease the pain of those suffering, but also for the rights of women to practice in medicine. These struggles were not easy, I learned from Ms. Jex-Blake’s writings. But I learned, too, that in Ms. Jex-Blake’s words, “we do well to struggle against that weary powerless feeling, because, given way to, it might overcome all power of energy.” Sounds wise enough to me. I pledge to struggle always against that weary powerless feeling. Despite the tragedies. Despite the namelessness of heroes.
Elizabeth Blackwell was the first woman to graduate medical school in the United States. She is another hero of mine, whatever that word means. Maybe someday I will know. Ms. Blackwell devoted her life to learning and to teaching; to healing who she could and showing no fear as a woman in the field of medicine. As to her quest for this knowledge and the skill sets of a doctor, she said: “the idea of winning a doctor’s degree gradually assumed the aspect of a great moral struggle, and the moral fight possessed immense attraction for me.” This moral fight that Ms. Blackwell describes – any moral fight, really – possesses immense attraction for me.
So, soon after my emancipation – in a dark, dingy, tiny government office near Disney Hall in downtown Los Angeles – for a fifty-dollar fee, a long application form, and a nod from an old white man in a robe, I left Debbie Gibson far behind me. I formally started anew. I became Jex Blackwell, a combination of two heroes; maybe just enough to duct tape together some hope. With that, I am on my quest, a moral fight. I seek any moral fight, as tragic and nameless as it may be. I am a fighter. I am a hero. Some may say I suffer delusions of grandeur. To them, I quote Cervantes’ Don Quixote: “obviously you don’t know much about adventure.”
Now, with the past behind me and the future ahead, Stanford asks me not about my moral fight and not about the struggle against the weary powerless feeling; but, rather, what event marks my transition from “childhood” to “adulthood.” Emancipation? Lost family? Changing my name? Disease? Suffering? The Street? Tragedy? Heroism? I must admit, I am not sure what any of these things mean. Maybe I’m not very smart. Maybe I just don’t care. I don’t know. Am I going to cure all the sick people? Will I alleviate the pain of the suffering? Will I comfort the dying? Am I going to banish cancer? Or Zika? Or Ebola? I don’t know.
But in the face of all this tragedy and all this uncertainty, I know I have decided to never stop trying. And maybe, just maybe, that decision marks my transition from childhood to adulthood. You don’t think so? “Obviously you don’t know much about adventure.”
Because my name really is Jex Blackwell. And I really am going to save the world.
* * *
Anarchy Isn’t Just a Fanny Pack with a Circle-A On It
By: Bawdy DySmurfia
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Direct action! it’s the time!
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Always gaining traction! Crossing every line!
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Moving forward! Never backwards!
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Grooving towards you! Bearing swords!
Because anarchy isn’t just a fanny pack
With a Circle-A On it.
Not your Walmart Guy Fawkes mask.
We don’t need your poseur scene.
We will tear down those goddamn barricades
And show you what we mean.
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Direct action! it’s the time!
Anarchy! Anarchy!
You are jackshit! Stop the lying!
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Moving forward! Never backwards!
Anarchy! Anarchy!
Across the world! Across the world!
Because anarchy isn’t just a fanny pack
With a Circle-A On It.
Not your Walmart Guy Fawkes mask.
We don’t want your bullshit scene.
We will maneuver through all their defenses.
You will know we really mean it.
Anarchy! Anarchy! Fanny pack! Fanny pack!
Anarchy! Anarchy! Fanny pack! Fanny pack!
Screw your Walmart Guy Fawkes mask.
About P. William Grimm
P. William Grimm is an American writer and filmmaker currently living in London, England. He has previously released two novels, The Seventh and Counselor, as well as two collections of short stories, Valencia Street and Sick Sense of Hubris. His short stories have been published online in renowned blogs such as “HTMLGiant” and “Eclectica Magazine.” He has also written and directed several short films including the award-winning Valentine’s Day, as well as Arrivals —> Departures and American Spy in Europe. Educated at Boston University, Grimm’s influences as a writer include Kurt Vonnegut, Joan Didion, Charles Bukowski, Raymond Chandler and Dashiell Hammett. He also digs Encyclopedia Brown and the Three Investigators.
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