Although I was proud of my successful shark dive the day before, I hadnât achieved the same sense of accomplishment Iâd had with the last big challenge. During the apex of my last swing on the trapeze, Iâd experienced a joyousness that I never wouldâve felt had I not gone up there. My shark encounters, on the other hand, had been full of terror and panic that hadnât stopped until they were over. Not all fears are worth chasing, I realized. What had I really gotten out of this? Sure, Iâd lived and Iâd have a good story to tell, but shouldnât life be about more than just survival and bragging rights? Shouldnât it be about growth? Being afraid of sharks was like being afraid of fire. There was no psychological upside to overcoming oneâs fear of sharks. Weâre supposed to be afraid of themâtheyâre monsters! From now on Iâd choose my challenges more carefully. As I stepped off the boat onto the dock, I calculated how many days I had left on the experiment: more than three hundred days. Thatâs a lot of tomorrows.
Chapter Four
Do the things that interest you and do them with all your heart. Donât be concerned about whether people are watching you or criticizing you. The chances are that they arenât paying any attention to you.
âELEANOR ROOSEVELT
âI just came away from the weekend wishing I was more like my friend Bill,â I said wistfully.
âAnd what qualities does Bill have that you admire?â Dr. Bob asked.
âWell, the man has almost no fear. And heâs just . . . goofy.â
âWhen was the last time you did something truly goofy?â I opened my mouth to reply and he added, âWhile not under the influence of alcohol.â
I closed my mouth and reconsidered the question. âProbably right before college. Yes, definitely, the Yale video.â
âVideo?â he repeated, confused.
Of all the colleges I applied to, Yale was the last to respond. Iâd already been rejected from Duke and Georgetown, which sent terse letters regretting to inform me of my subpar credentials but wishing me luck at a school with lower standards. So I was bowled over when Yale wait-listed me. Immediately I unleashed an aggressive letter-writing campaign upon the admissions office. Every other day for three weeks, I mailed a letter detailing why Yale would be making a terrible mistake if I wasnât admitted. Then I got creative. Iâd always loved the Dr. Seuss book Oh, the Places Youâll Go! So I wrote my own version called Oh, the Places Iâll Go!, rewriting the words so that the poem was about me getting into Yale. An example of one stanza:
There are other schools Iâve looked over with care,
but Iâve made my decision: I donât wanna go there.
My university? It must be the best.
Positively, absolutely, it must top all the rest!
A place like Yale where my thoughts can be grown,
guided and nurtured, but still be my own.
I wonât lag behind,
No, Iâve got the speed.
Give me the chance
and Iâll take the lead!
Then I acted out the poem on video. The film was shot with the help of a few friends and the special effects amounted to my mother holding a sprinkler over my head to emulate a storm system, but the trampoline sequence more than made up for it. A week after I sent in the video, I received a call from an admissions officer.
âAnyone who puts forth that kind of effort to get what she wants is clearly going places,â he said. âWelcome to Yale University.â
While I recounted this Dr. Bob was leaning back in his chair, laughing. âWhat a fan- tas -tic story!â he said with obvious delight. âThat took balls, girl!â
I felt a twinge of jealousy for my former self, which I hadnât even realized was possible. âYeah, I had more nerve back then.â
These days I only thought about doing goofy things. Sometimes during