Posts by henajane

henajane

Dec 13, 2012

Undergraduate / Don't be creeped out; STANFORD COMMON APP. ROOMIE ESSAY [9]

"Virtually all of Stanford's undergraduates live on campus. Write a note to your future roommate that reveals something about you or that will help your roommate - and us - know you better."

Dear Roomie,

Don't be creeped out. I know I seem disinterested and emotionless because of my habitual blank stare. I know my complexion screams deficiency of vitamin d, but I want you to know that I actually do have many interests and am not a walking vegetable. Despite that I am a Texan, I do not own a gun. Nor have I ever raised my own pony. Quite the contrary, my source of transportation is my lovable long board. Her name is Bella. I enjoy being outdoors, but not for the sun. Instead, the headlights and streetlamps are the carbon of my soda, the bass of house music, etc . In terms of my belongings, you can use my make-up, only because I don't have any. You can also share my food, because I find eating quite boring. But other than that, what's yours is mine, what's mine is my own, and what's left over, we share. If you need a spark, I have the match. I enjoy random outings, so don't be surprised when I invite you to eat with me at some vegan, Hindu joint.

Now let me introduce you to the nitty gritty part of my personality. It's not that tumblr quote, "My personality is who I am, my attitude depends on who you are." I call that disingenuous. I don't talk much. But I'm not completely mute either. I don't understand the concept of treating someone as his or her own diary. "9:37 PM, Brian looked my direction." But if you want to broach a topic about nature's evolution of hybrid sharks, or the new car that Apple invented without any windows, I'll respond with my comments, whether they hint at sarcasm or plain frankness. I tend to rely on anyone but myself to start a conversation, but I do know how to keep it going, whether it may digress or not.

So, I look forward to meeting you. Making friends has always been a bizarre experience, and it still is . So be ready for a stream of questions. Don't worry, I won't bore you. At all.

Your dear Roomie,
Hena Lee

OKAY NOW BE FRANK :)

henajane

Dec 13, 2012

Undergraduate / Don't be creeped out; STANFORD COMMON APP. ROOMIE ESSAY [9]

Whew~ Thanks!

henajane

Dec 28, 2012

Undergraduate / I hadn't been weak; I had been strong; Common App/ Experience [5]

I liked this essay! In order for it to not sound "generic", I think incorporating some attention grabbing sentence would fix that. :)

henajane

Dec 28, 2012

Undergraduate / "Choose your weapon"; JOHNS HOPKINS ESSAY/ UNDECIDED MAJOR [4]

Johns Hopkins offers 50 majors across the schools of Arts and Sciences and Engineering. On this application, we ask you to identify one or two that you might like to pursue here. Why did you choose the way you did? If you are undecided, why didn't you choose? (If any past courses or academic experiences influenced your decision, you may include them in your essay.)

Please be frank with me :) Thanks

"Choose your weapon."
Darn. I haven't even started the game and I have to choose one? Blip. The television screen goes off and
I stare back at my disheveled reflection. How could I choose among a scalpel, a paintbrush, and a mallet?
Heck, I didn't have enough coins to buy two if I could.
Admittedly, I want to have and conquer everything that I encounter. Our life's journey must start with
one step and in this case, that one step is choosing a major. When you picture a map, there are many
paths but only one destination. However, the paths laid out have many different options and offer many
different things. Our task is simply to choose whichever path that tickles our fancy. To me, I want to
explore and breathe in every moment life has to offer. But by choosing a major, I feel that everything is
limited and cut short.
I've never really been proud to say that I was undecided in my major. Shamelessly to say, I was quite
envious of my friend who had her whole life planned out. However, a sudden realization hit me. One
may not be able to choose a path, but one can always choose the map. The map I chose was Johns
Hopkins because here, "no matter what discoveries you choose to pursue, your only limit is your
imagination." I'm undecided in my major. But I'm decidedly open to all which may come my way.

henajane

Dec 28, 2012

Undergraduate / "Choose your weapon"; JOHNS HOPKINS ESSAY/ UNDECIDED MAJOR [4]

Thank you guys sooo much!! I will be sure to give you guys some feed back too~

henajane

Dec 29, 2012

Undergraduate / Don't be creeped out; STANFORD COMMON APP. ROOMIE ESSAY [9]

Hehe thanks I actually revised the essay a tad bit :)
".. what's mine is yours, what's mine is my own, and what's left over, we share."
Is that better? Please correct me generously!

henajane

Dec 29, 2012

Undergraduate / "silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech" ; UCHICAGO SILENCE ESSAY [7]

Susan Sontag, AB'51, wrote that "silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech." Write about an issue or a situation when you remained silent, and explain how silence may speak in ways that you did or did not intend. The Aesthetics of Silence, 1967.

Three Months

Awkward moments to gestures of reverence, "silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech."
Two years ago, I had an argument with my mother that would last us three months of the silent treatment. I guess the lines, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," best fits this episode of my life. It was the best of times because I realized that our conversations sparked every argument we had and I welcomed the long lost peacefulness. It was the worst of times well, because she was my sole provider. And things got stingy when she stopped asking what I wanted for dinner. Personally, this moment of silence was a speech of rebellion. Without communication, I was hindering our mother-daughter relationship. It was an act of rebellion because I was internally screaming for independence and refused her wonted act of kindness. However this "talk" was cheap. What good would it do screaming internally? I was senseless because I realized that acts of rebellion led to consequences, and in my case, a severe one.

In duration of those three months, I chose to miss out on two particular events: my mother's birthday and mine. What labored from this experience was extreme guilt. For sixteen years, we had generously shared our most intimate moments and I almost gave that up in the course of three months. In fact, I practically lost a few pounds by living as an outsider. It was my mother's house and I became a mere stranger, living off of scraps of food I chose to eat by refusing what she offered. I could have been kicked out, but fortunately I was saved by the grace of my mother. One moment, I met my mother's gaze. I immediately felt the pang of guilt. I knew I had taken everything for granted and I was burning my own bridge to someone I needed for the rest of my life. Finally I threw away my pride and humbled myself.

Silence may solve a problem, but unfortunately it did not mine. Silence is used only temporary, like the use of a Band-Aid. However, I used it to attempt to stop a bleeding wound. What I actually needed was communication, and for three months of having lost its significance, I almost bled to death. Internally.

henajane

Dec 29, 2012

Undergraduate / "silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech" ; UCHICAGO SILENCE ESSAY [7]

Okay i added some things and made corrections :) Feel free to add more

Three Months

Awkward moments to gestures of reverence, "silence remains, inescapably, a form of speech." It can either be appreciated or disdained, but both carry significant intentions that last an impression on ourselves for good. Through my experiences, I realized that no matter how it leaves its impressions, the amount of time it takes is little, or in my case, three months.

Two years ago, I had an argument with my mother that would last us three months of the silent treatment. I guess the lines, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," best fit this episode of my life. It was the best of times because I realized that our conversations sparked every argument we had and I welcomed the long lost peacefulness. It was the worst of times because she was my sole provider, and things got stingy when she stopped asking what I wanted for dinner. Personally, this moment of silence was a speech of rebellion. Without communication, I was hindering our mother-daughter relationship. It was an act of rebellion because I was internally screaming for independence and refusing her wonted act of kindness. However this "talk" was cheap. What good would it do screaming internally? I was senseless because I realized that acts of rebellion led to consequences, and in my case, a severe one.

In duration of those three months, I chose to miss out on two particular events: my mother's birthday and mine. What labored from this experience was extreme guilt. For sixteen years, we had generously shared our most intimate moments and I almost gave that up in the course of three months, not to mention I lost a few pounds by living as an outsider. It was my mother's house and I became a mere stranger, living off of scraps of food I chose to eat by refusing what she offered. I could have been kicked out, but fortunately I was saved by my mother's grace. I knew I had taken everything for granted and I was burning my own bridge to someone I needed for the rest of my life. I recall having met my mother's gaze and immediately feeling the pang of guilt. How could I use silence as a weapon that not only hurt my mother, but myself as well?

By remaining silent, my intentions spoke in ways not comprehended by my actions. Silence may solve a problem, but unfortunately it did not solve mine. Silence is used only temporary, like the use of a Band-Aid. However, I used it to stop a bleeding laceration of my heart. What I actually needed was communication, and for three months of having lost its significance, I almost bled to death. I realized that communication was the bridge to a healthy relationship and I hold on to it to remind me of its significance.