Inadequacy.

I'm in a weird mental position right now, like my brain's training to be a contortionist, but it keeps getting all tangled up in itself like this guy.
Let me just say this: I'm not used to not being the most competitive applicant. I'm not used to knowing less. Granted, the students I work with now are four and five school-years more advanced than I am, but it's still maddeningly difficult for me not to have something to contribute.

More than anything, I want to participate in the scientific discussions and ideas that go on in my lab, but everything moves so...quickly. And if you know me, picture me honestly repeating that last part. It's as weird to me as it probably is to you. I zip through the professor's words with my extensive memory for Latin roots (seriously, no background's been more valuable to me) and try to compartmentalize them into coherent concepts. Despite my best efforts, I can barely deduct what the charge on a proteoglycan has to be before they're on to how it affects hemotoxylin staining and the immunohistochemical indications of said stain, leaving me to connect the (Lewis) dots. I need organic chemistry. I need microbiology. I need molecular biology. I need biochemistry and electrical physics and cytology and pathophysiology and everything else these seniors and grad students have taken! What is probably most strange to me is the fact that I can't just read up on these things and magically understand, like usual. These students have been working for four long years on science I've never seen, and when I try to follow it, I get insanely frustrated. I want to have all that background knowledge. NOW. It doesn't help that in my biology class, we're learning transcription and translation. Honestly. The conflict kills me. I am expected to understand all possible realms of university science in one sphere, and expected to be asking questions about DNA base pairing in another.

Lab: "Therefore, in the disproportionate micromelia samples, murile electron microscopy indicates hyperdilation of the rough endoplasmic reticulum with excess collagen-2, preventing it from forming a functional complex with collagen-11 in the extracellular matrix."
Bio: "Wait, C bonds with...A? T? Oh, this class is SO confusing."

I'll just say it: I'm used to being the best, and you have no idea how difficult it is to comprehend the fact that in places where it matters (bio, for one, doesn't count) I no longer am. This feeling has been exacerbated by my desire to apply for a research internship this summer. For me, applications have always been no problem; I've always known I was competitive. With my perfect GPA, my string of AP 5s, my national awards and honors, and my extensive service involvement, I was the perfect all-around applicant, and, riding on my solid resume, I won far more positions than I lost. Now, I'm a first-year college student with a GPA of "zero" or "not applicable," because I haven't officially finished any courses yet. No one cares whether or not I'm a National Merit Scholar or a medical terminology medalist. To them, I'm a freshman, and that makes me not good enough. As I look over internship applications, it's maddeningly frustrating to see how many of the boxes I honestly cannot fill in...

"List all collegiate biochemistry courses above general level." Um, zero.
"List all collegiate physics courses above general level." Zero again.
"List all math courses..." Yay! I have...one. Calculus 1. Embarrassing.
"Overall GPA." Not applicable? I'm getting As so far...I swear...
"Science/math GPA." Please.
"Please provide two faculty recommendations." Okay, I've only known these people for a month, and I'm just a second-row face in their 300-student lectures. There is NO way they can write me decent recommendations, nor should they have to.

IN CONCLUSION, you should take me on a summer intern because...I like science?

This
is
madness.

I hate being...young! inexperienced! noncompetitive! AUGH!
and knowing it will be years before I regain the application-confidence I had.