Undergraduate / Too Outlandish--An Essay I Almost Sent Everywhere [2]

Prompt: "Experience that has had a significant effect on you. Explain."

Essay:

Attitude Blindness

The mountainous form of Half Dome sneered angrily down on me. "Why have you not acknowledged my majesty?" It was hard to imagine that this day had begun with pancakes. What did pancakes taste like? I could only remember the taste of asphalt. Today had been yet another family trip to Yosemite National Park.

I hated Yosemite National Park, or so I thought. This was one in a long line of visits my family had taken to Yosemite. This particular one I had named Albert of Monaco. In my mind, each "succession to the throne," or park visit, deserved a name. It aided in my ability to carve the torment of these events permanently into my warped, teenage mind. I had a problem with my vision. Sure, I could see. Not a leaf escaped my gaze as I stared glumly out of our car window. However, I could not see the beauty, the magnificence, or the grandeur in even the most picturesque scene. I had a severe case of "attitude blindness."

We had been in the car nearly two hours, which is the approximate travel time by car from our house to Yosemite. I was half conscious. The iPod might just be the sorcerer of the 21st century. My parents quickly found a suitable parking place, and I was employed to unload the family bikes. We always brought our bikes to Yosemite. My mother was saying something about how amazing the canyon looked while coasting with a light breeze in her face. At least, I believe that is what she said. I couldn't quite be sure between my iPod's screams of, "I'm just a small town girl..." and "Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin'..."

The bikes were down and I climbed aimlessly on my black, Trek model with a sour frown firmly fixed on my face. We began riding. About an hour into the ride there came a section of gravel in the bike trail that was perhaps two to three inches deep. "Don't know where I'll be tomorrow..." Mr. iPod lured me into my mindless trance. In my heedless condition, I took no notice of the deepening gravel or the curving trail. My bike, however, did. Its wheel turned suddenly sideways, tossing me directly onto the road, which is where I was now, awkwardly sprawled in the middle of a traffic lane staring up at the hulking form of Half Dome.

An oncoming car slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop a few feet in front of me. My iPod had been torn out of my ears in the process and now lay somewhere near the side of the road. The driver of the car shouted something out his car window. I could barely hear him. Strangely enough, I could hear the rustling of the leaves, the soft swaying of the branches of nearby trees, and the chirp of many a spring bird.

Lying there in the road with bruised and bleeding knees, the massive form of Half Dome did not seem nearly as insipid. Five minutes earlier, it had only been a rock. Now, it was a conqueror and time was its vanquished foe. My shifting attitude brought it alive. It provoked questions which intrigued me far more than Mr. iPod's audible spells. I was converted.

My view on eureka moments up to this point had been skeptical at best. I laughed at people when they described a sudden realization or an instance of transcendence (so much for 17-year-old wisdom). I picked my bike off the road and limped back to the trail. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. I could have spent the rest of the day gazing contently at the scene before my eyes.

When I first heard the phrase from biologist and author Rachel Carson, "One way to open your eyes to unnoticed beauty is to ask yourself, 'What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?'" I scoffed at what I jestingly called, "meaningless jabber." However, that was before I fell off my bike.

Undergraduate / Something important about me - Strange Supplement for College of William & Mary. [10]

I wrote a rather strange application essay and I thought of turning it in to see the reaction. My scores are fairly high, and my normal commonapp essay is fine. Thoughts?

Prompt: "Tell us something important about you" 500 words or less~

Essay:

Let me tell you something about myself: I am torn. Torn between whether to choose vanilla or strawberry ice cream. Torn between whether to choose a major in music or science. Torn between the Republican and Democrat parties. Torn over whether I should call myself White or Middle Eastern. Torn. Torn. Torn.

Perhaps some will think me frivolous--a person overly concerned with which flavor of cold confection is best fitted for his palate. I shall call them lifeless. To me, life is about choices--and carefully considered choices at that.

When I see a magnificent cone adorned by scoop after scoop of gleaming frozen desert, my heart stops. Of course not literately, however, it strains and jumps as I mull over the myriad of options available to me. This is war. A war of ideas within my own mind.

Now, do not jump to conclusions, I am perfectly sane (allow me this one fantasy). In speaking of my inability to decide on a college major, I simply mean I have too many interests. But perhaps that is my Achilles heel. On the one hand, music is natural to me. It has been my almost constant companion these short 18 years I've crawled the surface of planet Earth. True as this may be, science fascinates me. I was the sort of kid who got a new Lego set and ripped the instructions to sherds in favor of my own bizarre creations. I feel that science affords me this same opportunity. The opportunity to build and test outside the confines of someone's instruction manual.

Politically, I am a neophyte. However, this has not stopped my pigheaded opinions from rearing their sharp, and often unwelcome, head in many a socially-awkward situation. But I digress. I have flip-flopped a thousand times on which party I support. For a short while I was even interested in the green party. Someday, I hope my political naïveté will be shed in light of a more informed position.

My mother was born in Beirut, Lebanon. My father was born in San Antonio, Texas. I am a half-breed. This rather strange mix of races is the primary source of my ethnic confusion. I have frequently referred to myself as a "fake" caucasian or a "pseudo" Lebanese. Neither of these is quite accurate. Whatever my proper ethnic title might be, I feel the amalgam of my nationalities has acted as more of a blessing than a curse. I wake up in the morning and think to myself, "Who should I be today?"

If one were to write a descriptive phrase about me, it might well read, "The boy who could battle himself over a lump of sugar--and love it." Though I cannot agree with myself on many an issue, that inability to decide becomes the glue that holds my personality together. Accuse me of indecision and right you might be. I am far too busy fighting my own internal war over what words I should include in the final sentence of this essay to notice.