Undergraduate / 'a connection with my father' - BYU-Idaho Entrance Essay [3]

A) Describe a setback you have encountered in your life. Explain how you have handled the situation and what you have learned from it.

I've never really had a connection with my father. He abandoned my mother and I when I was merely seven. His evanesce hurt me, but not as much as his actions did. For years I prayed for his return, but it never happened. It took me years to realize his disappearance was a blessing. Afterwards, my mother became increasingly vigilant, always shielding me from the world. Although it hurt not having a father, that lack of love drew me closer to my true father above. My bond with him has grown immensely, my testimony rocketed as my faith and trust in him grew. To me prayer is the most important blessing because it allows us to have our own special connection with God. Heavenly Father is my most beloved friend, mentor, and leader. He has brought me comfort in my time of need, joy in my time of sorrow, and more blessings than I could count. I now have a more optimistic view of life and greet each trial with a delightful smirk because I now know that regardless of what obstacle may cross my path, I can and will overcome it with the help of my Father.

Please help with any grammar errors or with anything that could help improve my essay! (: thank you

Scholarship / 'the Hispanic population and education' - CHCI Scholarship Essay [3]

1: What field do you intend to pursue if you receive this scholarship, and how will the Latino community benefit?
In 2009, only thirteen percent of the Hispanic population contained a bachelor's degree or higher, 69% were involved with civilian labor, and merely eighteen percent had jobs in management. The majority of Latinos are immigrants and so their daily struggles include poverty, separated or incomplete families, poor education, traumatic events from their native lands, and very limited English. It can be challenging to quickly adapt in a foreign land and become a successful person. However, each day thousands of Latino men and women fight through the criticism and tough situations in an attempt to reach success. At a very young age I was exposed to traumatizing events which have left their mark upon my family's heart. After experiencing and seeing the effects of these struggles, my desire of psychology became evident. I've always had a great passion for community service and volunteer work not only because it brings me great joy, but because of the reactions and spirit of gratitude it brings to others. Through psychology not only have I found an explanation for the behaviors and attributes one possess, but I've found a way to help those in need of healing and escaping as well. If I won this scholarship I would major in the field of Psychology because it would give me the chance to help struggling Latinos such as myself who face daily trails and adversity. Those who are traumatized by bullying, harassment, loneliness, depression, suicidal thoughts and so forth would be able to come to me for help. My plan is to open up a psychiatric office and rehabilitation center for teens, young children, and even adults who face these issues each day. I want to make a difference for my future generations, and in doing so, hopefully setting the example of triumph through hard work. It wasn't easy to overcome bullying, to learn the English language, to adapt to American ways, to open up and make new friendships, or to face each day knowing that I was different. But looking back at my past, I smile. I smile not because it's over; I smile because I look at where I started and see just how far I've come. My family endured a lot of challenges when first coming to this country and not everyone was strong enough to succeed. I want to be different. I know that I am different because unlike others, I never gave up. It wasn't easy and it's not supposed to be but had I have received help or any guidance at all, I know that I would have been able to accomplish so much more. This is my wish, that all young teens regardless of their nationality, background, or past have a chance or opportunity for a better future. I know that everyone has the capability of doing great things in life; they just need a little push.

Undergraduate / "Never Enough" - Profile Essay for my English 101 class [2]

Please give me any insight whatsoever! I can use all the help I can get!!

Never Enough

"His expression was unforgettable. At first glance, all I noticed were his raggedy clothes and filthy hair. I'd seen him from a distance, begging people for any spare change they might have. As my buddy and I kept walking, I knew he'd stop us for money. And I was prepared to help the man that was until I laid eyes upon his face. It wasn't the look of hunger or anguish that I was expecting to see; instead this man had an unbelievable expression of necessity. I knew instantly that I couldn't simply give him money. I had to do more. Without thought, I instantly ran to the nearest restaurant, order a full meal made for three men, and carried them back to the stranger. As I left, an overwhelming sensation of happiness filled my soul. Yet, I couldn't stop thinking of how I possibly could have done so much more."

-Alexander Keogan

Within this day and age, materialism is everything. What you wear, what you drive, and where you live can say a lot about your personality and social standing. As nice as it is to have and be surrounded by fancy things, there comes a time in which one stops and realizes there are more important things in life. In Alex's case it was the welfare of his beloved friend whose family at the time were undergoing some difficult financial issues. Knowing that his friend couldn't afford to go school shopping for the upcoming school year, Alex had an idea. After several weeks of anxiously waiting for his paycheck to come so he could finally buy those hot new pair of Jordans he'd been wanting to get, the day finally arrived. He excitedly drove to the mall, bought the $198 shoes, and drove to his buddy's house. Without hesitation Alex placed the box on their doorstep with a note attached and drove away. Although to some this might have seemed like a grand sacrifice, to Alex this was merely a small gesture of love.

At a young age, it was clear that Alexander Neal Keogan wasn't your ordinary child. Unlike the other kids at his age, he never fussed or acted selfish with his toys. His mother never complained about him in his younger years and to this day can't seem to recall a time in which Alex was in anyway difficult. "He was always an easy child, no tantrums to speak of," she explains. Compared to the other toddlers his age, Blanca Keogan was lucky to have had such a calm, nondestructive, and giving child.

Throughout the years, Alex's personality had flourished along with his maturity. Although he is merely nineteen years of age, he has been able to positively influence and uplift the lives of many through his good deeds. Thanks to his father, Bernard Keogan, Alex learned all the qualities which he possesses: determination, how to be a gentleman, and always being selfless. It's because of these teachings and the positive inspiration he's been that Alex refers to his father as his hero. His father has been the strongest influence in his life and had it not been for him, Alex would have never grown up to be so devoted to service.

To some, the mere action of sacrificing one's time and energy to help another is plenty of service for one day. On the contrary, Alex's mentality of always striving to go one step further truly shines through the memory of his favorite service day. On this occasion, he helped a family finish pack up and transfer their personal belongings to their newly bought house. On that same day, Alex helped an addition four families move as well. Although his selfless efforts left him physically drained the following day, he recalls the overpowering feeling of joy and eagerness to keep helping felt that day. Unfortunately, the satisfaction didn't last. Thoughts and ideas of how he might have been more proficient or helpful filled his mind. But instead of letting his mind overcome his happiness, he simply stretched and went out looking for another way to serve.

However, service is not always performed through physical actions or material gifts. Sometimes, the most impacting service is through giving selfless ever-lasting love. Along with most teenagers, Alex has had to overcome his fair share of troubles and disputes among peers. During his middle school years, he had to face bullying for being overweight. Then once in high school, problems with misinterpretations and religious arguments caused drama for Alex. Yet, these incidents only empowered him. He eventually lost weight, gained muscled, and became infatuated with basketball. And whenever a statement towards Mormons were mentioned within class, he'd proudly stand and declare himself a member. Not only was he never ashamed of his religious affiliations but never gave up a chance in class to talk or clear up any misunderstandings about his religion. When asked how his friends affected him throughout his life, Alex states: "The worse for my friends. The better for my foes. Friends are a good source in our life and bring us happiness. However, our enemies will give us the honest truth." Although his friends served him well and have been a good influence in his life, he believes that his foes have been an even better influence; because to him it's selfish to hold grudges or have hatred for a person, regardless of what a person may have said or done they are an important son or daughter of God who deserves to be treated like one.

Misfortune entered Alex's life when a close friend of his passed away at the young age of seventeen. As devastated as he was from hearing of the loss of his dear childhood friend, Alex quickly felt selfish. The knowledge that Heavenly Father has a plan for everyone reminded him that he must rejoice his friend's return home. However, his friend's family didn't contain the knowledge he knew. To him it was more important that the family and other friends be comforted rather than for him to feel sorrow for himself. At the service, he respectfully listened to the ceremony in silence. Afterwards, in an attempt to cheer everyone up, he told jokes and stories of good times he had shared with the deceased. Not only was the atmosphere of the room uplifted, but the loved ones felt blessed and relieved to have heard such wonderful things about their son, brother, and friend. Alex's humor brought more than just smiles and laughs that day; they created new everlasting memories into the lives of a mourning family.

The day I first met Alex will always be a memory to be treasured. My family and I had just moved into the neighborhood and although our mothers were really old childhood friends, I had not once seen him in person. I remember being angry and flustered having to move into a strange part of town in which I knew absolutely nobody. However, I also knew I had to act polite and kind when the Keogans arrived. Having already met the entire Keogan family prior to the move, for the exception of Alex, it was easy to find him through the crowd of hugs and greetings. His chocolaty brown hair swooshed as the wind tousled his curly locks. His deep blue eyes were possibly the most unrealistic color I'd ever seen that I could have sworn he was wearing contacts. Yet, it was his sincere and loving smile on his face during the process of transferring our belongings inside the house that made me feel calm and peaceful. Although but a simple gesture, it was his smile and positive words that helped me make it through that move.

Since then much has changed. Alexander is no longer the short, chubby, awkwardly happy kid he once was. He now stands at 6'1'', has replaced his fat for muscle, and although he might not be so awkward he's definitely become a much happier person. He's now Engineering major at Brigham Young University-Idaho and is planning on serving his mission within a few months. Although Alex might have changed physically and grown mentally, one thing that has yet to change is his heart. Some say that when a person is all-loving and self-giving that they have a "heart made of gold." However, I don't think this relates to Alex. Yes, he is a wonderful guy whose examples of countless acts of service have helped many people. But his heart isn't made of gold. His heart is made of skittles. Because although Alex may have the gift of humor and ability to cheer up anyone's day. The one and only thing that will always put a smile upon his face, regardless of how hard or stressful his day may have been, are skittles. And what better way to describe his upbeat, colorful, fun, and sweet spirit? The best part yet, is that just like his opinion on service; Alex can never have enough skittles to fill him up.

Writing Feedback / My Not-So Predetermined Destiny [2]

My Not-So Predetermined Destiny:

From the age of three, I noticed my family life was unusual. Of course, growing up in a third world country would typically contain stories of messed up childhoods that brought to pass nothing more than misfits, criminals, crazies, and the poor into adulthood. Rarely will a child leave this scenario and grow up to become a necessary asset to the community. This becomes even scarcer when the child has been denied the opportunity of having both parents or none at all. In my case, it was my father's evanesce that created my belief of having no escape to my predetermined destiny. Although very unlikely, it wasn't impossible. But when you're merely the age of three years old, this appears to be very impossible.

My childhood, as I can recall, wasn't your typical infancy. My mother left Ecuador when I was merely three months old. She had the idea of a better and brighter future for her family and in order to make her dream come true, she left. Thankfully my siblings and I weren't completely abandoned, we had my wonderful grandmother. To me, she has been both father and mother since I can remember. My absent father on the other hand, was nothing more than a grumpy drunk that would come and go as he pleased. Which wouldn't have bothered me as much, had it not been for the cruelty of his words and actions whenever he was around. Therefore leading to my conclusion of it being okay for a child to fear and even despise their father, simply because examples of this surrounded me.

In time however, that fear for my father grew into nothing more than plain hatred. Eventually, the mere sound of his name was enough to cause an irrational fire of anger to burn up inside of me. I first became aware of this the night of my seventh birthday, my family gathered around to sing for me when my father finally decided to show up, and of course was drunk as ever. I remember rolling my eyes as I watched him limp his way across the cement floor to hug me, boy did he reek. Shockingly, he was rather eager that night. He looked at me and said, "Nenita, te traje una sopresa" (Sweetie, I brought you a present). First words that popped in my mind were, "Unless you're telling me you've decided to stop drinking, I doubt I'll be surprised." But still something inside of me felt warm and fuzzy as subconsciously I thought that maybe he was sincere, maybe he was slowly changing, maybe now he would be a father to me. But just like so many other countless times, I was abruptly disappointed.

The memory of that night still haunts me to this day. Not because of his rude entrance, not because of the stench of his clothing, not even because he forgot how old I was turning. That night is memorable because that was the night I was first introduced to my worst enemy, Christina. Apparently, my father had decided that my birthday was the perfect occasion to reveal his so called "secret." I was already aware of my father's women on the side, and I was strangely okay with it. Not because they made me better appreciate my mother in America, or because I never grew attached to any of them. I wasn't affected because I knew that eventually these women would come and go faster than day turned into night. However, all of that didn't matter anymore. Now, it was no longer the women I had to worry about, not that I ever truly did. It was Christina.

Although my father wasn't the greatest of dads in the world, he was still my father. If it hadn't been for the help of this man, I would have never come into this world today. So I did respect him for that. But furthermore, my mother cared for him. Somehow this man made my mother love him, and for that I am eternally grateful. However, there's only so much a child can handle from her elders, especially her mess of a father. On this occasion, I thought I would kill him, literally. He pointed towards the door as it slightly opened to reveal the face of his most recent girlfriend. Again, I rolled my eyes and started to turn around when suddenly in my peripheral vision I caught a glance of yet another person walking in. She wasn't tall enough to be an adult, but wasn't small enough to be a kid either. Little did I know that I was looking right into the soul of whom would become the most impacting person in my life, the pre-teenage demonic child that was, Christina.

To this day the memory of her muddy brown hair, her filthy hazel eyes, and her perfectly tan skin tone burns my soul. That first impression of this so-called "almost a woman" girl was the reasoning behind my internal loathing towards my father. The second I laid eyes on her, I immediately knew what he was trying to say. This creature was his girlfriend's daughter. Therefore, was now in a sense his daughter? "How dare he?!" I thought, "after years of complaining and despising me for being a woman, he has the nerve to bring this woman's daughter and call her his own?!" I was no longer filled with an irrational pain, my hurt had transformed into pure rage. Throughout my entire life, my father always preferred my brothers over me because they were male. To him, women were nothing more than child-bearing housewives. Yet, somehow this girlfriend's, who he'd had only been seeing for a week, daughter had taken a special place in his heart, the place that had been reserved especially for me. From that day I knew something had to be done. It was on this day that I made the most important decision of my life, to become something of myself. It was clear that my father's reputation would affect my life, unless I took a stand and changed my future.

Although merely seven years of age, I had gained the knowledge my own siblings didn't receive until their early twenties. I knew that my father deserved my respect for bringing me into this world, however I also knew that I wouldn't let his faults and bad decisions impact my destiny. I gained a greater respect and love for my mother in America and remember begging her to pay for a private tutor so that I may learn the English language. Fortunately enough my mother had just fallen for and married an American man named Jim. So their finances were great enough for me to have my lessons but sadly weren't sufficient enough to bring me to America. I was still content. Although somewhat hesitant about the lessons at first, my siblings eventually attended them with me. Slowly my plan was working; I knew that if I wanted a better life for myself that I needed to escape the evil overfilling Ecuador. As much as I loved my beautifully exotic country, it was not the right place to pursue my new life. America was the key. And if I was to make a living through a career in the US, I had to learn the language. Once I had mastered English all that was left was leaving and getting accepted into school. I knew the process would be long, and I knew it would be rough, but knowing how awful and demeaning my life as a reject in Ecuador would be just pushed me harder.

For years I lost contact with my father, not that we were very close to begin with. However, I still knew of him and what he was up to since he kept in touch with my family, he just refused to have anything to do with me. None of it bothered me, until the momentous day arrived. My mother's newest conversion to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints brought her acquaintance with an immigration lawyer within her ward. It was through this woman that my mother was able to miraculously receive papers for my siblings and I within a time span of three months, a process she had been working fourteen years to successfully complete. Tears of indescribable joy filled my eyes as I knew that my plan was so close to being fulfilled. My siblings jumped with joy as their biological father signed their papers for them to fly to America, my heart dropped and those tears of joy turned into droplets of agony. "I was so close," I whispered, "there's no way my father will sign my papers. I'm stuck here."

It wasn't easy getting him to sign. That is sober it wasn't. Never had I been so grateful for the invention of alcohol in my entire life. After two shots of tequila and halfway through a six pack of Heineken, my father drew out the most illegible signature I'd ever laid eyes on. Those sloppy scribbles brought tears to my eyes, but this time they were tears of pure delight. I was leaving Ecuador and I was going to America, the land of hope and opportunity. There I would be able to attend high school for free! I could wear any clothes I wanted for there was no uniform, I could eat at the cafeteria, and better yet I would escape this life. I gained many friendships among my peers, but most importantly I graduated with a decent enough GPA and a high enough score on the ACT to make me eligible for college. Having been newly converted into this church I had no doubt that I was destined to attend Brigham Young University-Idaho.

"I look back on my past and smile," my mother stated. "I smile because I look at where I've come from and see just how far I've come." She's completely right. Even after being in the US for quite some time, I still have trouble adapting. I can still remember the pain cause by my father and his betrayal when he chose to become Christine's father, rather than mine. As much as I hate his actions and decisions from the past, it was through my faith and love for this gospel that I discovered the gift of forgiveness. However, not even my faith can cure the pain of my homesickness. Some nights I dream of my beloved Ecuador and of all the beauty within it. I can picture myself by the market, or lying on the warm sand by the beach, and even remember my adventures at school. Ecuador's people may be corrupted but to me the land is diverse and pure. On the other hand, America's land is corrupted and it's the people who are diverse, which adds to the possibilities and blessings of being here. Either way, I do know that now I don't have to worry about growing up to become a misfit, criminal, crazy, or poor asset to the community.