Every one of us has undergone the absolutely thrilling college application experience, and many of us will get another taste of it when applying for graduate school. Oh, what a fun process.

Agonize over the essay. Study for the board exams. Collect recommendation letters. Fill out applications. Photoshop university sweatshirts into your baby pictures and construct a life-sized mannequin of yourself to send to the admissions office.

What, that last one doesn’t ring a bell? Then you can count yourself out of the group of the more creative applicants that colleges cross paths with every year.

If you still don’t have a clear picture of the sort of person to whom I’m referring, think “Legally Blonde.” Overly-eager applicant Elle Woods sends Harvard Law School a professionally produced admissions video. The tape features her running a sorority meeting in an evening gown and boasting her knowledge of soap operas in a swimming pool, among other absurdities.

Laugh accordingly, but such behavior is not as ludicrous as most would presume. At least Elle refrained from shipping Harvard a mannequin of herself, which cannot be said of another young female applicant in years past.

Each year, college admissions officers are bombarded with an array of “gifts” from prospective students. To offer a sampling, Smith College was sent a Scrabble board that spelled out – literally – the applicant’s qualities, whereas Harvard received a chocolate mold of its Veritas shield. Several other schools have opened their mailboxes to find mock Time magazine covers featuring applicants’ faces.

So what’s the verdict on the impact of these creative showcases? Admissions officers say they rarely bear any weight on acceptance, and may even spotlight candidates negatively if they got a little too creative for their own good.

Yet I find myself wondering: can you really blame these overzealous applicants? Think about it. Your bedroom is crammed with enough of the college’s paraphernalia to open as a mini-school store. You’re bursting with more knowledge about the college than all of its tour guides combined. When you’re that passionate about a school, isn’t it understandable that you want to stand out among the thousands of other applicants?

Then of course you need to noticeably differentiate yourself from the other contenders, who share nowhere near your level of enthusiasm. So many of us get sucked into the hype of applying to a handful of schools toward which we feel largely indifferent. If a school has the slightest bit of potential, we add it to the list, wanting options rather than to be left out in the cold in the end.

I applied to 11 schools. Eleven schools, three of whose campuses I never once visited; one school in Chicago despite my extreme disinclination toward flying; one for an all-intents-and-purposes women’s college (enough said); one that I couldn’t possibly afford; and one backup safety school, in addition to my initial safety school.

That leaves how many schools in which I harbored actual interest? There was only a grand total of three. But come March, there I was, receiving acceptances to schools in which I had zero interest, while other die-hard applicants were being deferred or rejected.

Unfortunately, courtesy of the Internet and the widely accepted Common Application, it is now too simple to dash off application after application with the click of a mouse. When my cousin recently applied to the University of Vermont on a whim, I asked her why. She responded, “Why not? They take the Common Application and there’s no application fee.” Compare her to another student who would send the admissions committee a jug of Vermont maple syrup.

While some students are letting their creative juices flow freely, others are becomingly increasingly petrified of not abiding by application procedures. They fear that writing one word over the limit on their essays, let alone any extraneous submissions of edible college seals, will be their downfall. They closely align their submissions to the norm; perchance standing out as unique might actually bump them from the competition.

Now, following the rules is all fine and good, but considering that we are only talking about college applications here, the countless “dare to be different” bumper stickers, bookmarks and posters I’ve seen over the years have been pounded into my head.

Students are merely trying to find a way to express their devotion to a particular college, but it is part of a tricky balance that is universal in life. Show imagination, but not enough to overdo it. Be creative in a way that is appealing, and not simply gives others an amusing anecdote to tell in a column like this.

Stand out, but not too drastically from everybody else. And if you can produce precisely the right balance, you will emerge from the masses as a success. Or at least you’ll be accepted to your top-choice school.

Personally, I’m pondering a new career choice in light of the above. Perhaps I will become an admissions officer – of course, at UMass. On my visits to high school guidance departments, I’ll distribute pamphlets, field questions and casually mention to the overzealous applicants that I love chocolate. And if all goes according to plan, the chocolate minutemen will soon be floating my way.

Katherine Marr is a Collegian columnist. She can reached at [email protected]