Hi everyone, this is my Common App essay. I am applying to most of the top 10 schools, including Princeton, Stanford, MIT, and Columbia, and would really like to make sure my essay is up to par. I believe I have a very interesting and unique subject, but am not sure about the content. Also, it seems that my transition from my introduction to my anecdote is slightly rough. Additionally, the underlined blank space needs a clever metaphor. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
It has been said that a man with one watch always knows what time it is, while a man with two watches is never quite sure. If this is indeed true, then, based on the number of watches I own, I should just give up all hopes of accurate timekeeping. My passion is collecting vintage wristwatches. It is a unique hobby, and unlike most other forms of collecting. For watch collectors, how a piece is acquired is frequently as meaningful as the piece itself. I always prefer to purchase vintage watches from their original owners whenever possible. That way, I can hear the history behind the watch firsthand, and match a human being to the object. This is what makes my most memorable acquisition special. As fate would have it, I was at a local pawn shop one day looking for an external hard drive when I noticed a young man walk in with an old watch. He tried to sell the watch, but he and the owner could not agree upon a price. I caught the young man on his way out and introduced myself. We made some small talk, and I directed the conversation towards the watch. "It's not much, I inherited it from my grandfather when he died," said the young man as he revealed a beat up old Seiko diver. Despite all the scratches and dirt, I automatically recognized it as an all original 6105-8000 model, worth over $400 even in the condition it's in. The young man then went on to talk about how his grandfather was a medic in Vietnam, and how he wore that watch during his entire combat tour. It just radiated with history. "You shouldn't sell it," I told him. "I know," he replied, "but I need money for textbooks. Besides, he left me many other things and I really have no attachment to this old watch." I nodded, and asked him how much he wanted for it. "How about one-twenty five?" came the reply. I glanced at the watch. "How's two hundred?" I countered. "You're going to need a backpack for those textbooks." The young man looked at me as though I had _______________. I proceeded to explain to him the value of the watch and how, after factoring in a service and replacement parts, $200 was more than a fair price. He agreed, and I handed him the money. We shook hands, the young man thanked me, and then excused himself to go to the book store. That watch is now the cornerstone of my collection. It is neither particularly rare nor extremely valuable, but historically, it is priceless. Wearing it, one can almost smell the smoky jungle air. In the end, I guess that is why I like vintage watches. They serve as physical connections to the past, reminders of an era gone by. Saigon may have fallen over 35 years ago, but a little piece of it still survives on my wrist.
It has been said that a man with one watch always knows what time it is, while a man with two watches is never quite sure. If this is indeed true, then, based on the number of watches I own, I should just give up all hopes of accurate timekeeping. My passion is collecting vintage wristwatches. It is a unique hobby, and unlike most other forms of collecting. For watch collectors, how a piece is acquired is frequently as meaningful as the piece itself. I always prefer to purchase vintage watches from their original owners whenever possible. That way, I can hear the history behind the watch firsthand, and match a human being to the object. This is what makes my most memorable acquisition special. As fate would have it, I was at a local pawn shop one day looking for an external hard drive when I noticed a young man walk in with an old watch. He tried to sell the watch, but he and the owner could not agree upon a price. I caught the young man on his way out and introduced myself. We made some small talk, and I directed the conversation towards the watch. "It's not much, I inherited it from my grandfather when he died," said the young man as he revealed a beat up old Seiko diver. Despite all the scratches and dirt, I automatically recognized it as an all original 6105-8000 model, worth over $400 even in the condition it's in. The young man then went on to talk about how his grandfather was a medic in Vietnam, and how he wore that watch during his entire combat tour. It just radiated with history. "You shouldn't sell it," I told him. "I know," he replied, "but I need money for textbooks. Besides, he left me many other things and I really have no attachment to this old watch." I nodded, and asked him how much he wanted for it. "How about one-twenty five?" came the reply. I glanced at the watch. "How's two hundred?" I countered. "You're going to need a backpack for those textbooks." The young man looked at me as though I had _______________. I proceeded to explain to him the value of the watch and how, after factoring in a service and replacement parts, $200 was more than a fair price. He agreed, and I handed him the money. We shook hands, the young man thanked me, and then excused himself to go to the book store. That watch is now the cornerstone of my collection. It is neither particularly rare nor extremely valuable, but historically, it is priceless. Wearing it, one can almost smell the smoky jungle air. In the end, I guess that is why I like vintage watches. They serve as physical connections to the past, reminders of an era gone by. Saigon may have fallen over 35 years ago, but a little piece of it still survives on my wrist.