Undergraduate / "Anthem of My Independence" - Georgetown Essay [5]

The georgetown essay..

1) The Admissions Committee would like to know more about you in your own words. Please submit a brief essay, either personal or creative, which you feel best describes you.

this is 1 of the 2 brief essays i have to do

the other essay i wrote for another school was on independence, would this fit with the georgetown essay?

i didnt get a chance to cut it down yet, and there are a few errors... but how is the essay so far?

"Anthem of My Independence"

At eleven years old I had learned the most important lesson of my life. It was already dark outside with the cold December air drowning me, the prospect of hypothermia an ever-present danger. The streets were still, removed of any and all activity, invoking fear as the daunting task stood before me. With the moon as my only source of light, I trekked through ominous path lined with trees clawing at the wind and monsters hidden behind every corner. I walked as if I were deranged-- running from the slightest shadow or whisper, and moving cautiously as soon as danger cleared. By the time I finally arrived at Mark Newbie Elementary, it seemed as if I had run marathon, even though I had only walked three blocks.

As soon as the clock struck seven, the concert began like clockwork. The choir opened with "Frosty the Snowman," with the band following. Nerves slowly overcame me as we walked onto the stage. "The fourth graders will be playing 'Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star'," Mrs. Smith announced. I bowed, sat with perfect posture, and stared at the sheet music. "1, 2 and 3," I thought, my body swaying with the flow of the baton. "D-D-A-A-B-B-A, oops, too long -G-G-F-F-E-E-D, perfect comeback," The song was finally over with the finale as a retard on the last set of notes. I stood with a smile, bowed at the smiling crowd before us, and stood upright with my eyes wildly searching for my parents. "They must be in the back," I thought.

The concert ended with refreshments in the back as the children made their way to their parents. I must have walked around the entire cafeteria before the crowd began dissipating, searching for someone I knew. I followed everyone out, still looking for my parents, my aunt, maybe a cousin that would have seen my first performance As I looked on in envy at the families that made their way to their cars, I unwillingly came to the conclusion that no one was going to come for me. I was the only one in my family to play an instrument, a major milestone for an immigrant family, yet no one was there. I walked home crying that night, the first time I had in a long time. It wasn't because of the monsters that may still be lurking around the corner, but because I was lonely.

I knew my parents didn't miss the concert on purpose, I absolutely understood that, with work from eight to nine, seven days a week, three hundred sixty-five days a year, my parents had no time for me. I was, after all, the first-born child, and therefore was born with a special gene or superpower that endowed me with independence, strength, and intelligence. The lesson I learned that night thrust me into the reality of my birth; as a first-born child, I am obligated to fall perfectly in the middle of the strict boundaries of a perfect child. I wasn't forced to get good grades, to be a better person, or to be independent, but rather forced to realize my priorities and obligations. In other words, as the eldest child I was born with a goal to succeed, but it wasn't until I learned my lesson that I finally started to reach for it. For eight straight years, I have walked, with my independence in tow, to play for crowds of strangers, an event that has become the anniversary of my independence.