IN A NUTSHELL

An accomplishment that marked my transition into adulthood, you ask? While many can flaunt their trophies and academic successes, I came out on top in the most rigorous process known to man—nay, known to mammal. A competition that factors in speed, agility, orienteering, and anatomy; truly a test(icle) of strength.

To put my achievement in perspective: in 2016, there were 376 candidates for the Nobel Peace Prize (the highest number of nominees on record). I was chosen as one out of roughly 200 million applicants—to fertilize a human female egg.

I struggled upstream against the turbulent bouncing of balls and fought mercilessly against my own paternal kin. Let the other applicants drone on about the softball trophies they received when they were 12 years old. I was crushing the competition by seven figure margins before I even had a quantifiable age. Was it not then, destiny, for me to attend a school whose mascot is the very beast I conquered? Anyone can say “Go Nads!,” but, statistically, only one in 200 million have actually gone from the nads. And I’m still a pretty good swimmer.

I recognize the committee will also take into consideration my achievements as a larger cluster of cells. I humbly request you take a moment to peruse my activities and educational accomplishments for more Ameliorating fun facts and Shamalan-esque plot twists. But, at the end of the day, is there any test as meaningful as the testes?

To think, just a mere 17 years ago, when I first paddled ashore in the U.S. by way of the Birth Canal, I was barely a foot tall and didn’t speak a word of English. Just look at me now! You could say my most notable transition was not one into adulthood, but into recognized existence. As William Shakespeare said, brevity is the Sol Lewitt. And thus, I conclude my jock-staposition of the soulless common app prompts with what I actually wanted to write about.