Write about: the application.
I am sleepy and it is time for bed. So...
"How are your university applications coming along?" Dale's mother tried to sound nonchalant but anxiety was squeezing her vocal chords; the end result was somewhere between chain-smoking frog and tortured boar.
"Oh, you know, fine. Mostly." Dale didn't bother to turn to face his mother while addressing her, as he was far too consumed by his work. Besides, even a momentary loss of focus could lead to instant death for his video game character.
"Mostly?" His mother's voice had now overcorrected, sounding like a close relative of mouse with its leg stuck in a trap. "Anything I can help with?"
"No, it's cool. I got it."
"You're sure?" Dale's mother was, to say the least, not sure at all.
"Yeah, no worries." A brief pause to launch a rocket at his fleeing opponent. "I mean, it's not like any of these places I'm applying actually care about grammar... or grades... or criminal records..."