Undergraduate / 'Bouncing up and down on my tiptoes'; "Strength from weakness", Common App [3]

Please help me edit my common app essay! I would really appreciate it if you could edit grammar, diction, word choice, style, flow, content, structure etc. Also, please tell me any way to make it catchier or more interesting, especially the beginning, like suggestions for how I can pull the reader in. Please tear it apart! I really appreciate it. I'll also help edit yours. I chose the last option, topic of my choice.

Bouncing up and down on my tiptoes, I tried to peer into the pot, but alas, I was too short. My brother shooed me aside and strode off to enjoy his meal, while the delicious aroma of shrimp-flavored broth mixed with MSG wafted through the air. My eyes trailed after him, set on the glistening noodles that were steaming with warmth. Stomach growling, I padded down the hallway after him, but was met with a rude bang as the door slammed shut. Miffed, I scurried back to the kitchen, determined to consume this carbohydrate-packed, devoid of nutritional value, fried delicacy. Having observed this noodle-making ritual many times, I decided I would attempt to recreate the process. Antiquated and wobbly pot? Check. Packet of Shrimp Flavored Nissin Top Ramen? Check. Wooden chopsticks? Check. Now, for the solvent. I looked up to the sink, unsettled by its height. I could barely see above the countertop, never mind reach the shiny faucet handle. Using a stool as leverage, I scrambled on top of the counter, all limbs and determination ("like a monkey", my mother would say, shaking her head), successfully reaching the sink. When my parents arrived home, they found me happily slurping away.

Fade in, six years later. Pan horizontally across dozens of heads to a figure looking too small for her desk. I'm sitting in a classroom, one hand supporting my head, the other rhythmically drumming the surface of my crisp, college-ruled notebook. All around, there was an atmosphere of restlessness. The door creaked open. Instantly, the buzz of the class faded into stolen whispers. All eyes were on our Calculus I professor as she strode to her desk, placing her briefcase on the table and retrieving from its depths the results of the test we took last Tuesday. I could already see it before it was placed within my hands, my faded attempts to derive and integrate marked with the color of failure. Telling myself I would just try harder and study more next time, I folded it and shoved it to the bottom of my bag.

Later that night, I found myself sitting at the kitchen table, head lowered and tears dripping onto my lap. The crumpled test was sprawled on the table in front of me, evidence of my disgrace. My parents looked at me and back at each other with expressions of disappointment and worry.

"Why didn't you ask for help?" they pleaded.
"If you were having trouble, you should have come to us or your teacher, sweetheart," my mother scolded. I looked away, ashamed.
"I didn't want to bother you," I finally admitted.
"Oh honey, it is not a bother at all. Asking questions is nothing to be ashamed of. It's part of the learning process, and that is what we are here for," said Father gently, "so make sure you come to us or your teacher next time, okay?" I nodded, and as they enveloped me in their arms, I burst into fresh tears of relief.

Growing up, I was used to doing things on my own, as my parents worked long hours and my brother was "too cool" to associate with his younger sister. From making food to riding a bike without training wheels, I learned to be self-reliant. Don't get me wrong, my parents were neither neglecting nor inattentive; they were simply busy with providing for me and my brother. Understanding this, I didn't feel the need to run to them every time I was met by trouble. It became a trait that they boasted about to their friends because to them, I was such a good child, never making a fuss. If I wanted something, I would find ways to attain it on my own. However, because of this, I came to believe that asking for or needing help was a sign of weakness. My years of independence and tough-love attitude made it difficult for me to admit my need for guidance, but now, I don't think it is a weakness anymore, for humans are not perfect. If we knew everything, we would have no need to go to school, read, explore, or discover. We make mistakes, and that is the best scenario possible because of how much we can learn from our failures. Now, you'll see me with my hand raised, ready to pose many questions, ready to inquire, collaborate with others, and most importantly, exchange ideas.

Undergraduate / "Self-portrait" MIT significant challenge [4]

Tell us about the most significant challenge you've faced or something important that didn't go according to plan. How did you manage the situation?(*) (200-250 words)

"No, the eyes are too small. And the mouth seems crooked" I mumbled, shaking my head. Picking up the paper and holding it up to the light, I scrutinized the pencil markings. I cocked my head to the side, looking from the paper to the mirror and back to the paper again. This wasn't me. Crumpling up the paper, I heaved a sigh and tossed it to the side. All around me were the remains of unsatisfactory attempts. Even after all these years of living with the girl in the portrait and spotting her every time I passed by a mirror, I still couldn't depict this girl that I should know best. Just as I had trouble writing about myself, drawing myself wasn't much easier. What was so different between my drawing and the image in the mirror? The eyes; they didn't reflect my determination and the concentration in the slight arch of my eyebrows. My mouth didn't capture my slightly pursed lips, signaling my anxiety and my frustration. I realized it wasn't about my drawing skills; it was about how I viewed myself as a person. Here I was, trying to create something aesthetically pleasing, something to fit society's model of beauty. But this wasn't supposed to be about that. This was about portraying myself honestly, with all my imperfections. Just as in the mirror, this was a reflection. An introspection. I put away the mirror and started again. From memory, I drew a self-portrait in my own style. Holding it up to the light again, I could see the contentment in my smile.

It's 265 words, so it's over the word limit. Please give me feedback about the content, idea, style, and grammar, and also about what I can condense or cut out! Much appreciated!

Undergraduate / "Rubber bands and synthesized rain at 3 AM" - Stanford Roommate Essay [7]

Hi guys, I would really appreciate it if you could edit my essay. Right now it's past the word limit, so I'd like to know what I could/should cut out, and what I can improve on. Please tear it up!

2. 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 roommie,

I love rubber bands. They're elastic, multipurpose, and surprisingly accurate when aimed at an unsuspecting target. As with rubber bands, I snap right back to action regardless of any challenges or setbacks. Life is too short to fixate on what wasn't; instead, I like to move on to what could be. Flexibility is my forte; stretching, twisting, adapting...you name it. I'm no ordinary rubber band either, for I don't become brittle over time. I'm part of the new generation of rubber bands that self-heal when broken, and the material can be easily recycled and decomposed, so it's environmentally friendly to boot.

I'll apologize in advance if you're a neat freak; feel free to let me know when my undecipherable doodles, issues of Discover and Juxtapoz, and late-night snacks encroach your perimeter of habitation. Otherwise, I wouldn't mind if our dividing line blurred, yours becoming mine, and mine yours, as I'm always open to broadening my views and taking up new interests.

I'm most alive during the tranquility of darkness. I don't know what it is - the moments of beautiful, complete silence, the realization that only you and a few strangers out there are sharing this time of the day, or just the feeling of conquering nature's biological clock - that makes the hours after 3 AM so invigorating. Usually I have headphones on, listening to synthesized rain and wielding a paintbrush or a pencil, engrossed in putting my imagination on paper. As extroverted as I am, I need moments of solitude, as it gives me time to reflect on who I am and what kind of person I want to be, because as you know, the only thing constant in the world is change. I hope you remember your first impression of me, because at the end of the year I'm curious to see how much we've grown.

Undergraduate / "My Father's Story", UC prompt #1, Rough draft [5]

I would really appreciate constructive criticism and feedback about my essay. I know its far from good yet, so I would really like some help. Thank you!

1. Prompt #1 (freshman applicants)
Describe the world you come from - for example, your family, community or school - and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations.

If there ever was a story that has affected my life the most, it wouldn't be from a book or a movie or the news. It would be the story I've heard repeatedly throughout my life, whether from my mother, my aunt, or from my father himself. It would be the story of my father's determination. My father was only a young boy in China when the Cultural Revolution started. During the revolution, Mao Ze Dong closed schools and urged students to go to the countryside and become "re-educated" by poor or average peasants. At that time he was only twelve, having just finished elementary school. Shortly thereafter, at the age of fifteen, he was sent to the countryside to do hard, manual labor. Even though conditions in the city were tough, conditions in the farm he worked at couldn't even compare. For seven years he did backbreaking work at the farm until eventually he became so ill he was sent home. However, throughout all this time, my father never gave up his education. Although time and resources were definitely limited, my father nevertheless tried to learn little by little on his own by reading here and there. After returning to Shanghai, even ill, he would listen to an English radio station for half an hour everyday in hopes of learning even a little bit of English. Then suddenly, as the revolution neared its end, colleges announced that they would be holding college-entrance exams in one month's time. My father was determined to get into college, and so he studied by the dim light of the lone light bulb in his home whenever he had spare time before or after work. His persistency had paid off and he was part of the first class of students to get into college after the revolution, even though he had basically only an elementary school education. By the time he had started college, my father was twenty-four.

This story as well as occasional lectures weaved throughout my childhood has really made me the person I am today. For my birthdays I wouldn't receive video games and Barbie dolls that most girls my age coveted, but instead books like The Handy Science Answer Book or Big Bang: The Story of the Universe. I must admit, back then I was miffed by his choice of gifts, but I came to really appreciate them during the long summer days at home. When I learned something that piqued my interest I would later tell my father about what I learned, and that's when he confessed that he really loved science and would have definitely become a scientist if it weren't for his lack of education upon entering college. He had entered college as a foreign language major because that was all he really knew at the time. I asked him why he didn't give me "normal" gifts like toys, and he said to me, "Knowledge is the most valuable thing a person can have. People can take away your house or your luxuries, but they can never take away what you know." Knowledge really is power, and with such great opportunities that my parents have worked to give me and my brother, I know I must take advantage and learn as much as I can from what they've provided for me. I've overheard my friends and classmates occasionally complaining about learning a particular subject like history or geometry because they think it's pointless to learn if they won't use it in "real life". I must admit I've had those moments too, but then I remember my father's words and realize, "What's the harm of learning more?"