AndyJ
Nov 4, 2013
Undergraduate / I am a picky eater - Common App ; Background Story [3]
Thank you for your comment! I'm trying hard to rework my essay.
Thank you for your comment! I'm trying hard to rework my essay.
AndyJ
Nov 4, 2013
Undergraduate / I am a picky eater - Common App ; Background Story [3]
Hi everybody, this is my first thread here, and I'm hoping you could give some comments about my main essay. Any comment is appreciated! Will return favors! Thanks!
Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story. (631/650 words)
-----------------------------------------here's where it begins-----------------------------------
At age six when I was still in kindergarten, I'd show off every bit of knowledge I had until lunch time came. As soon as I finished off the rice, my hand wouldn't budge any more. Sweet and sour pork smelt no better than rotten orange, and the mere attempt to imaging myself chewing steamed mushroom would make me shudder. At times the other kids would stole a glance, feel reassured, and swiftly sweep off my share from the cooling plate, but I didn't care.
As a compensation for my decreasing physical ingestion, I turned away to seek spiritual nutrition. As my classmates buried their heads in the food plate, making occasional mumbling sounds with spicy tofu in mouth, I immersed myself in the conversation with soundless books. There was silence: No digressive voices were heard, no disturbing dishes were seen. Only words floated above the pages, nurturing me in complete reticence. But - Splash! I quivered irresistibly, slowly becoming aware of the person next to me and the something in the air. "Sorry!" said the soup guy, his face blushing a little bit, "I was just giving you a second portion. You do like seaweed soup, don't you?" "Yes... Thanks." Spots of liquid splashed onto my arm, accidentally reminding me of my contemplation: Warmth. I had chosen to ignore it, yet it had started to filter into my life - in a different way.
I have savored solitude for an overly long time: With a quiet and reserved manner as the basis, tailored daily necessities as the pillars and a title named "selective eating disorder" as the roof, every particle in my solitary life looked safe and sound and everlasting, until high school came crushing at me. The sudden exposure to the brilliant sunshine and a chattering crowd was overwhelming. "Hey Andy, one day I'll make a birthday cake for you, a birthday cake made of beans, peanuts and green pepper!" I stopped my spoon in mid-air, bewildered, then suddenly chuckled; the usual lunch-time jokes evoked only genuine amusement and even a tinge of gratitude. Laughters and clattering of chopsticks filled the air with a distinctive vibe, that no one was to be left alone absorbed in his own world, which felt kind of like chili pepper to me: Deadly daunting yet equally enticing.
Just as my curiosity temporarily eclipsed its opponent, I slipped into the abode of all evils - the kitchen. Steam was rising from the stove, blurring the profile of a humpback woman. Granny was cooking large wonton - ugh! Meanwhile, covered in spots of flour, a stack of wonton skin lay silently on the table, accompanied by the remnant of wonton fillings, both emotionless and arguably harmless. "Granny!" I called suddenly, eyes still on the table, "would you show me how to make large wontons?"
Unfortunately, my first accomplishment only reminded me of used tissue. But when boiled, its translucent skin failed to hide the bulging and tempting filling inside. My handcrafted orb was glowing with heat so penetrating that without any hesitation, I took a nip. A small yet determined nip. Goodness gracious, darning delicious!
August, 24th, 2012. Ida-Ehre-Schule, Hamburg, Germany. The pan was sizzling joyfully; fresh olive oil danced on top of it, carelessly reflecting the fervid sunshine outside. "Andy, how did you do this! May I take the entire slice?" I studied the girl's stuffed mouth curiously and beamed broadly, "You sure? I make this pancake every morning!" Although my Chinese dishes didn't won the entire panel's stomach at this cooking contest, I cherished every single customer of mine and relished the time spent with other group members. The German group wasn't paying attention. I took a quick peak, waltzed behind their back and walked away with a plate of cup cake. IT'S MINE!
---------------------kind of rambling eh...XD----------------
Hi everybody, this is my first thread here, and I'm hoping you could give some comments about my main essay. Any comment is appreciated! Will return favors! Thanks!
Some students have a background or story that is so central to their identity that they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story. (631/650 words)
-----------------------------------------here's where it begins-----------------------------------
At age six when I was still in kindergarten, I'd show off every bit of knowledge I had until lunch time came. As soon as I finished off the rice, my hand wouldn't budge any more. Sweet and sour pork smelt no better than rotten orange, and the mere attempt to imaging myself chewing steamed mushroom would make me shudder. At times the other kids would stole a glance, feel reassured, and swiftly sweep off my share from the cooling plate, but I didn't care.
As a compensation for my decreasing physical ingestion, I turned away to seek spiritual nutrition. As my classmates buried their heads in the food plate, making occasional mumbling sounds with spicy tofu in mouth, I immersed myself in the conversation with soundless books. There was silence: No digressive voices were heard, no disturbing dishes were seen. Only words floated above the pages, nurturing me in complete reticence. But - Splash! I quivered irresistibly, slowly becoming aware of the person next to me and the something in the air. "Sorry!" said the soup guy, his face blushing a little bit, "I was just giving you a second portion. You do like seaweed soup, don't you?" "Yes... Thanks." Spots of liquid splashed onto my arm, accidentally reminding me of my contemplation: Warmth. I had chosen to ignore it, yet it had started to filter into my life - in a different way.
I have savored solitude for an overly long time: With a quiet and reserved manner as the basis, tailored daily necessities as the pillars and a title named "selective eating disorder" as the roof, every particle in my solitary life looked safe and sound and everlasting, until high school came crushing at me. The sudden exposure to the brilliant sunshine and a chattering crowd was overwhelming. "Hey Andy, one day I'll make a birthday cake for you, a birthday cake made of beans, peanuts and green pepper!" I stopped my spoon in mid-air, bewildered, then suddenly chuckled; the usual lunch-time jokes evoked only genuine amusement and even a tinge of gratitude. Laughters and clattering of chopsticks filled the air with a distinctive vibe, that no one was to be left alone absorbed in his own world, which felt kind of like chili pepper to me: Deadly daunting yet equally enticing.
Just as my curiosity temporarily eclipsed its opponent, I slipped into the abode of all evils - the kitchen. Steam was rising from the stove, blurring the profile of a humpback woman. Granny was cooking large wonton - ugh! Meanwhile, covered in spots of flour, a stack of wonton skin lay silently on the table, accompanied by the remnant of wonton fillings, both emotionless and arguably harmless. "Granny!" I called suddenly, eyes still on the table, "would you show me how to make large wontons?"
Unfortunately, my first accomplishment only reminded me of used tissue. But when boiled, its translucent skin failed to hide the bulging and tempting filling inside. My handcrafted orb was glowing with heat so penetrating that without any hesitation, I took a nip. A small yet determined nip. Goodness gracious, darning delicious!
August, 24th, 2012. Ida-Ehre-Schule, Hamburg, Germany. The pan was sizzling joyfully; fresh olive oil danced on top of it, carelessly reflecting the fervid sunshine outside. "Andy, how did you do this! May I take the entire slice?" I studied the girl's stuffed mouth curiously and beamed broadly, "You sure? I make this pancake every morning!" Although my Chinese dishes didn't won the entire panel's stomach at this cooking contest, I cherished every single customer of mine and relished the time spent with other group members. The German group wasn't paying attention. I took a quick peak, waltzed behind their back and walked away with a plate of cup cake. IT'S MINE!
---------------------kind of rambling eh...XD----------------
