Undergraduate / Intellectual Vitality: My mother, grandmother, and great grandmother were raised surrounded by nuns [7]

Hi here! Any help is appreciated :)

Stanford students possess an intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development. (250 word limit)

Roman Catholicism has been practiced in my family for generations. In Vietnam, my mother, grandmother, and great grandmother were raised surrounded by nuns. When I was five years old I could barely speak English but had already memorized the Beatitudes, the Seven Sacraments, and the Rosary. Throughout childhood every Sunday was spent in mass and every Saturday was spent confessing sins. What can I say? I was born and bred a Catholic. My sheltered religious life came crashing in the seventh grade, when I first learned about various world religions. Learning that Catholicism was only one among millions resulted into utter cognitive dissonance. The easy confidence I possessed scrutinizing other beliefs as follies led me to suspect mine too had holes. Until then, I hadn't questioned what I was raised to believe in. Maybe because, according to Piaget's Theory of Development, abstract cognitive thought doesn't occur until age 12. For the next month, I spent hours discussing with my history teacher about the incompatibility of an omniscient God with libertarian free will, the spreading of Christianity through colonialism, and even obscurities such as Cheondoism. I spent nights hunched over my laptop, watching more Christopher Hitchens lectures than an ordinary twelve year old would have, and came back every day with another question. Although my abstract questions may never have absolute truths, this experience taught me to embrace ideas that may contradict mine, to approach everything with healthy skepticism, and to play my own devil's advocate.

Undergraduate / BEING ALONE, DARTMOUTH SUPP (an intellectual experience) [2]

Hi, this is my Dartmouth supplement to the prompt: tell us about an intellectual experience, either directly related to your schoolwork or not, that you found particularly meaningful. This is my first draft.

Questions: Is it fitting for the prompt? How can I make it better? What qualities does it showcase about me? Thank you so much, I appreciate all constructive criticism

It was a three-day weekend and I wanted to visit a friend at Cal. Already being in the Bay Area, I asked my brother if he would be willing drive me there. Because driving around Berkeley, a bustling city, on a Saturday is anything but fun, my brother flat out refused to drive me - even after I had offered to give him gas money and to buy him dinner. I had two options remaining: stay at his apartment and wallow or take the Amtrak to Berkeley alone.

I was more nervous than excited because it was the first time I had gone somewhere alone. Sure, I've been in the snack aisle at Bel Air without my mom, I've taken long walks to the park without a buddy, and I've driven off and gotten lost in a friend's neighborhood. But, in this case, I was truly alone; I no longer had a parent or sibling to chime in my ear, nor did I know where I was going. I was a small town girl in an unfamiliar city surrounded by complete strangers.

My brother dropped me off at the Santa Clara Amtrak Station and right as he drove off, I realized that Amtrak tickets could only be purchased with a credit card. I had a wad of cash in my pocket and no way to use it. Then, I glanced down at my phone and saw 10% of my battery remaining. My palms started to get sweaty, my stomach churned, and my legs became noodles. Oh shoot, what do I do now? Quickly, I turned to the nearest stranger and asked if they would buy my ticket on my behalf if I gave them cash. It turned out to be a good decision; my ticket was bought. But, I was still feeling flustered. Things had already slipped downhill, would my situation get worse?

The train was jam-packed with weekend commuters and I happened to find myself sitting next to a young woman. She wore a red long sleeved shirt, blue faded jeans, and a black backpack. I immediately noticed her dark, tight curls and olive skin. She looked older than I was, but had a kind-looking face. At first, it was awkward. The air was filled with silence and my apprehension. The first ten minutes of the train ride, I was thinking to myself how dreadful the next hour was going to be. Eventually, small talk came in the form of, "where are you from?" And soon, the conversation was running like a river. I learned that she was traveling from Stanford University back to her workplace. She was a postdoctoral computer science researcher from UC Davis; she was raised in Bahrain, but was born in India; she came to America for graduate school. Basically, I was just thinking woah, that's so cool. Surprisingly, the marriage of our separate worlds was one with mutual fascination and curiosity. We filled in those two hours, stop after stop, talking about her job, artificial intelligence, the mechanics of time in language, and religion. I had completely nerded out with an absolute stranger and it was awesome. I wasn't thinking about how terrible the ride would be anymore - I was enjoying it for what it was.

I lost track of time. And when the train arrived at my destination, Berkeley, I almost didn't want to get off. I felt I made a profound connection with this individual, and sadly, I didn't even get her name. Nothing. No Facebook, no Twitter, no phone number, no residence hall I could refer to if I ever visited UC Davis. It was an abrupt divorce. The walk to the UC Berkeley campus was almost cathartic - was that even real?

I boarded the train and left it feeling a bit different, maybe even a little wiser. I wouldn't have been able to have such an experience if I hadn't abandoned my comfort zone. Had I been riding with my brother in the car, I wouldn't have met her or even mustered up the courage to ask a stranger for a favor. The encounter was more romantic than anything. I met a perfect stranger. Connected with them. And left with no strings attached. In my memory, she remains the nice, interesting lady I met on the train, untainted by an identity or the chance for me to scour through her personal life with social media. Instead, everything else about her is left to my imagination, to wonder.

I think some of us may crave these types of romantic, random encounters - as my friends had expressed to me when I told them of my experience. But, we usually don't put ourselves in situations that allow us to. Or maybe, we don't want to at all. Obviously, I didn't want to ride the train alone. I, myself, am averse to the idea of being lonely - feeling awkward by myself, potentially being vulnerable to my own thoughts. However, I now know that being alone doesn't equate loneliness, and it can allow me to experience this randomness, this novelty, this perfect stranger on the train. I wouldn't be able to tell this story if I didn't decide to go alone that day.

When I told my brother about the experience he asked me, "It may have been weird at first. But after, didn't you feel a sense of freedom? Adventure, perhaps? Wasn't it just better to experience things by yourself for once? No mom, dad, or me to bicker in your ear or influence how you act?"

The answer to all of these questions is yes. As a future college student, the prospect of being on my own in the future scares me a bit. However, I'll have to face independence - no matter how I feel about it. I think being alone will be the first step to actually experiencing the world for what it is and meeting new people. To me, this is how life can be thrilling. Why not seek out for novelty? Especially if it can serve as a means for gaining more insight about myself. I don't need anyone to feel complete about myself. It took a day's worth of adventure for me to finally believe this. Believe it. To me, being alone encompasses a potential adventure and it isn't always a bad thing.

Undergraduate / I thought she was DEAD - [UC Prompt 2] [14]

Hi everyone, this is my essay for the UC app. I had a lot of difficulty writing this essay and keeping control of my writing. There are areas of my concern such as, making sure the essay focuses on me, how can I cut it down without dwindling its meaning, and is it impactful/insightful to revealing the person I am.

UC Prompt 2: Tell us about a personal quality, talent, or accomplishment, contribution, or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud and how does it relate to the person you are?

I thought she was dead.

Though a petite woman, my mom was stronger than looks gave her credit for. Fleeing war-torn Vietnam at 19, with nothing but straw sandals on her feet, she learned how to survive in America. Despite being diagnosed with chronic Hepatitis B, she insisted to continue working to make ends meet. She served as a pillar of strength, cementing the values I strive to live by. The night my dad and I found her on the kitchen floor was the scariest night of my life. Even in her depression, shadowed in my father's infidelity, I never fathomed that my mom would have attempted suicide or that it would have made me a better person.

Overnight, the home I was familiar with vanished as my mom remained under medical and psychiatric care for months. For months, the walls were tinged melancholy blue; the air, still; the space, barren. For months, the house was ghost quiet, except for the occasional swing of the front door that unveiled a wasteland of furniture and grayed family photos. For months, there was harpish singing to Vietnamese karaoke no more.

In her absence, I felt abandoned and part of me resented her for it. Maybe, because I was impacted into a wall of reality where I couldn't depend on her. My dad couldn't take time off of work so, I had to assume the role of my mom. I found myself responsible for organizing our bills and explaining her condition to family members, since my dad speaks little English. I taught myself to cook warm meals for my dad and me, scouring through her handwritten recipes to find a taste of home again. With time, my anger eased. With every fold of laundry, every whisk of the toilet bowl, every time I found myself filling in her shoes, my gratitude for her grew. I found myself on a quest to live a life my mom would be proud of. My anger and entitlement transformed into empathy and soon, I wasn't merely empathizing; I was experiencing what it meant to be a lone pillar, holding up a shaky roof.

After what seemed like a lifetime, my mom was discharged from the hospital - she had come back from the dead. Although I didn't actually lose my mom, I understand the deepest meanings of grief and inherently, the value of life. Despite the trauma, I wouldn't take my experience back for anything else. Her absence served as an outreach for me to climb out of childhood: I gained an unimaginable resilience, gratitude, and perspective. I thought my mother was immune to the throngs of life, but I've realized that even the strongest of pillars can use reinforcements. Because of this, I try my best to mitigate my parents struggles: after leaving Academic Decathlon at 6:30 PM, I spend my free time tutoring students to help pay for my mother's Hepatitis B medication. It means the world to me, that I understand the people in my life and that they know I care. I even smile and wave at strangers, knowing that even they have troubles, hoping to brighten their day. My experiences in life haven't been the easiest and ironically, I've become the biggest optimist. I face my obstacles with alacrity, knowing that adversity breeds growth, that "this too, shall pass." I'm not the broken girl who found her mother, cold, on the kitchen floor. I'm a pillar of strength.

Word Count: 576