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> You know Kiki, I don't know everything about you...but I think you are a great person. Your personality comes shinnig through whatever you write here. And based on those essays you posted here I can say that you have a gift for expressing what you want through your words...it's simply amazing. But remember, God doesn't close any doors without opening a window...if by some small chance Williams doesn't work out, then there is something better in store.
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> Rand"I hope that helped"yk

oh, speaking of essays.... here's the final essay I sent in, for those of you interested...

"I'm not as good at math as Brent is," I mumbled to my algebra teacher on the first
day of seventh grade.

"That's fine," she answered.

I knew better. I knew that for the rest of my life everyone would compare me to my
older brother, and that I would lose every time.

For the next several years, I tried desperately to live up to the example set by my
genius brother. I longed to be my own person, appreciated for who I was. I knew Brent was
respected, but I was merely liked. I never realized that the competition was both one-sided
and unbeknownst to the rest of the world. I was the only one who cared.

I don't know exactly how he found out and I forget exactly when he told me, but I
can still point out where we were on Western Avenue. My beloved older brother, my role
model, the person I had spent most of my life wanting to be, explained to me the guilt he
felt over my feelings of inferiority. And he cried.

It was then that my healing began.

During my junior year - his last year at home - Brent became my best friend. Our
fifteen minute drives to and from church were rife with creativity, silliness, and laughter. I
suddenly discovered that my brother gave better advice than any of my other friends: not
only was he sensible, but he also understood me when no one else could. Quick trips
downstairs to say goodnight regularly became hour-long talks.

I began to see my activities as things I loved doing rather than as opportunities to
outdo Brent. I went from one of the nameless ladies of a junior high musical (in which
Brent had actual lines) to the co-director and star of my junior-year production of The
Taming of the Shrew. After five years of competing at the national level of National History Day, the first year in which it was a competition with myself was also the year I won a
national award. Although my interests have not changed, I am now free to experiment even
when my exploration could lead to failure.

It took a little longer, but now I can even laugh at my seventh grade counselor, who,
disappointed by the one B on my first advisory report card, exclaimed, "But I expected you
to be one of my straight-A students!" The last time I was asked how I felt about Brent's
perfect SAT score, my honest response was one of unqualified pride.

My brother is still my role model, but now I want his patience and his thoughtfulness, not his math ability. If I'm lucky, someday I might even learn his knack for naming stuffed animals.