CCB Roach

I must let you know that I was very happy that the Common Application inquired about my aspirations. It's taken me several years to finally apply to college, but I think you’ll see that I’m a very very motivated person, as this is a question that I’ve considered time and time again. 

Actually, just this morning, I plotted it all out. It started when, while eating breakfast, I saw a strange colored cockroach. It was light yellow, and had blue lines in an intricate pattern on it’s back.

If  I had not seen another just like it moments after I smashed it to smithereens, I would have thought that what I was seeing was a new genus or species or whatever. I would have called somebody like the EPA, and held them up for a few dollars, maybe 15 or 20 grand. I would have demanded that they named it after me. The Curtis Clarkson Brown  (CCB) roach. The Nobel would shortly follow, and my speaking engagements at the Ivy League would strike just the right balance between tear jerkingly boring and immensely stimulating. I’d hand out free iPhones to achieve the latter objective.

Before long, Al Gore would demand a meeting with me.  By then, I would have ordered $2000 glasses frames, and an iPad mini, so that when good ‘ol Al walked into my $8000 a month office over looking central park at 58^th street, I would look appropriately hip-executive.

He’d be surprised by my youth, and the nappyness of my hair would, for only a moment, cause him to hiccup. Then, he’d beg me to explain to him my rigorous process for finding new species. After frantically taking notes on his tablet (he’d only have the Nexus 7, poor man,) he’d turn noticeably pale as I let him know the implications of the discovery of the CCB roach:

 Rather than posing a threat to the environment, urban landscapes like New York City are in fact producing a far more biodiverse planet.  The Earth is fact becoming BETTER because of the “destruction” of ecosystems.  The rain forest, I’d tell A-dog (we’d be on pi-mp name basis by this point), should be reduced to a pile of rubble, post haste.  Al would nod in wonder.

There’d be a lot of stir because of my announcement. At first I’d be labeled a faux scientist, and a derelict of the academy, but these are the names ascribed to future titans of ingenuity. Time would name me Man of the Year for my awesomeness, running a story on how I’m the Environmental Martin Luther King-Obama-Marvin-Gaye of our time.  Soon thereafter, Fox News would gloatingly create a show for me where I’d be allowed to make up as many facts as I wanted to (I’d only do that on Friday nights, because Thursday late night is whiskey night at my local bar, and things can get a little hazy.)  My show would go up against Rachel Maddow’s 9pm broadcast, and I’d crush her.

Eventually, Leo DiCaprio, that environmentally conscious leading man, would call and say that he and I should hang out in L.A.  Naturally, though, I’d politely refuse. I always blamed him for my fear of cruises as a result of his role in Titanic.

Natalie Portman’s racy environmental text, however, would naturally be well received. I’d be glad to share with her my scientific breakthroughs with those beautiful dark eyes, and that radiant, expressive smile. She’d apologize for looking gorgeous as women are wont to do, and I’d forgive her.  I’d give her several autographed perfectly preserved CCB roaches, and she’d sigh in appreciation.

Eventually I’d give up all my fame and genius. The grueling travel schedule of my speaking engagements, my constant fatigue, Rachel Maddow’s withering sarcasm, and A-Dog’s indomitable request for interviews with me would take its toll. I’d walk away just when my theory was taking solid hold in American classrooms across the world. My eschewing of my greatness would cause me to once again win Time’s Man of the Year (this time I’d be called the Dave Chappelle of the decade), and the memoirs I’d soon publish thereafter, would be an instant best seller.

Instead of sitting on my vast cash flow, and spending the rest of life thinking as thinkers like myself sometimes do, I’d join forces with Oprah, and go to countries where I know there are people who are darker than me. I’d snap pictures with them, and hold them, just to show that despite everything I’ve achieved, I still remember the insignificants of the world.

Anyway, I’m several hundred words over the limit, but my counselor told me that it doesn’t matter if what you have to say is really important. With humility in my heart, and a touch of genius, I submit this essay to you, the admissions officers. As you can see, I’m great, so I look forward to the acceptance letter!!

Love,

Curtis Clarkson Brown (roach, lol. #teehee, #BAWLLLLERRRRRR)