Undergraduate / A Tentative Year to Travel - UC Prompt #2 [3]

A Tentative Year to Travel

My bow hung steadily at my side, my instrument propped wayward against my body. The interminable wait began once again for the conductor to lead us into our first segment. I was nervous, watching the multitude of faces in the audience eager to watch and equally ready to judge our every move. It was the final concert of the year and we were the last group to preform. In spite of all this, I knew we would do great - we always did.

It was the summer of my sophomore year, and I had been in the ***** Orchestra for three years. It began with my violin teacher, who recognized my talent early on and supportively guided me to succeed. I had worked hard to attain a seat in the upper level orchestra and was fortunate enough to become a part of the 2008 trip to Beijing taking place just weeks prior to the Olympic games. Likewise, my school orchestra was hosting a similar event that coincidentally started three days after the original trip would end. My parents, who were usually ardent savers, didn't hesitate to pay my (and their own) way through this once in a lifetime adventure. They insisted I go on both trips, stressing the cultural and historical importance and how I must do my part by becoming a part of it. They did their part by assisting an additional student who, like me, was going on both trips. We had friends residing in Beijing who were willing to accommodate my family and me between tours, and were more than happy to take in another.

It was an extraordinary year to explore a country revolutionizing both itself and the world by opening its doors to host their very first Olympic games. I felt I was blessed to be present in such an event and sought to make the most of it. We had prepared all year, stacked on triple our normal song load and spent extra nights and weekends to make sure we would be ready. I was a bit overwhelmed at first by the sheer number of songs I had to perfect for both tours. A lot of the stress was alleviated through my parent's encouragement, my tutor and conductors' solid instruction and my own will to survive the pressure.

It payed off splendidly, giving me ample time to enjoy the finer aspects of travel. We did a total of fourteen concerts throughout the tour, but it surprised me how little they mattered in the scope of the trip. I was into exploring the cultural differences of the mainland. I had only been to my mother's native Hong Kong and Beijing opened up an entirely new avenue of life. I marveled at the possibility that one day this may very well be my world to live in. I felt I was like China, here to adapt to a ceaselessly competitive world. The Olympics might have been China's finest hour, but it was the day everything changed for me, the day a new force officially unfolds rapidly into the world. I am determined to be a part of this force, and am confidant through my university education, I will thrive in whatever world it may take me.

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541 words ~
I couldn't think of a substitute for the the word "day" in "...but it was the day everything changed for me, the day a new force officially unfolds...". It doesn't seem to fit, since the Olympics didn't happen over a day. I was also hoping to trim this down a bit, so any advice to do so will be much appreciated.

Undergraduate / Prompt #2 - The Misguided Martyr [3]

Prompt #2
The Misguided Martyr

It happened all too fast on an all too familiar night. My mom had left the house for a drive after another pointless, belligerent confrontation with my brother. It was her way to cope and had been as far as I could remember. She had confrontations with everyone, but my brother was the fire to her volatile mind. I was still huddled up inside of my room, drowning out the happenings in the rest of the house through studies to avoid exacerbating the conflict. My mom, who was so bent on my academics would rarely interrupt my studying regardless of the situation. Naturally, I was shaken when someone broke through the door, but the solemn look on my dads face brought forth new fears. "It's your mother on the phone, you talk to her, I have to find her, whatever you do, do not hang up," he muttered breathlessly then leaving the house in a haste. She was vaguely understandable through her sobbing: she told me she didn't have much time - apologized ceaselessly for her actions - and reminded me to make the world a better one once she was gone. She would hear no reason, and though I tried, my words came choked up as she rambled on like a broken record.

I followed my father upon his merciful return, trodding barefoot through the muck and grass. We found the car in which my mom lay, an empty vodka bottle and a pill bottle by her side. I held her up, restraining her from further movement as we sped through the streets. We cut people off and ran red lights; risking our lives and I realized there was no greater fear in any of our minds than losing my mom that night.

"No! she wailed, "Don't take me, I didn't take it, I didn't do anything!" My hands were sweaty and trembling as I scoured every conceivable area in the car. My search came up dry. When I opened the bottle to count the pills, I realized it was new and had never been opened. Our heroic endeavors were quelled at once, both with relief and utter humiliation. My father stopped the car, sighed, and covered his face with his palm. My brother looked defeated. Thoughts ran wild in my mind as I sat in shock listening to my mom's muffled, yet ever-comforting sobs on our long ride home.

The next morning, we were told not to speak of what transpired last night. And that was it, no appreciation, no acknowledgement and most of all no apologies. Her actions were a cry for help, a cry only heard by us. And her actions are a burden I must bear forever on. I know she thinks highly of me and sets forth great I expectations. Though I may never live up to those expectations, if I can make her world one worth living in, it would mean the world to me.