Please briefly elaborate on one of your extracurricular activities or work experiences in the space below:
I really did know what to write about for this one or... well any of them... I couldn't sleep so I decided to start the college applications. I feel so bad because I don't know how to really talk about myself, that's why I have been procrastinating so much. I'm so afraid of coming off too corny or ordinary. But I'm trying and I could really use some help. . Thank you!
When I came to America the last thing I ever felt was safe. I had accepted chaos as a natural part of life much like my home life. I never expected to achieve anything. Mainly my past pessissmism was to due to constantly being reminded how silly my dreams were by my parents. They like many other parents thought that a career in the medical field was best and for years I didn't have the courage to say "no".
It all started with a pair of ballet slippers. They were small but they held my dreams where no one could get at them. They made me feel safe for the first time in my life. I remember walking into the dance studio with them for the first time and quickly being overwhelmed. The beauty of ballet came from years of pain and diligence. It took initiative and action and resulted in many failures, but that's what kept me motivated to learn. To be a ballerina was to be a living work of art. I knew it wouldn't be easy but I didn't care.
When no one was looking I would cut pieces of paper into fortune cookie sized messages. I allowed myself to be selfish and write down my dreams: "I want to go to a great college", "I want to travel the world", "I want to be a writer/artist", "I want to read every book ever made", "I want my house to have a library". To keep them safe from doubt I would put them in my ballet slippers where they would always be there for me. I began to see my slippers as a guarantee that with time and dedication I couldn't fail to achieve whatever it is I wanted.
As time went on I had to stop my ballet lessons due to lack of money, but I kept dancing anyhow. I stopped being a victim of my problems and started to let my dreams led the way. When I was seventeen I no longer needed my ballet slippers to reassure me, so I passed them down to my six year old sister to use when she would take ballet lessons and I would be away at college.
ok and here is a part of what I want to include in my personal essay. Is it any good?
I had expected the river to be full for some reason. The pail made an uneasy decline to the coarse river bed. When I pulled it back up I had found it empty. But my grandmother had always told me to always keep trying, so I did. I went back to my chosa and found a bigger pail and came back to the edge that seemed to promise water. Feeling confident this time I dropped it but as I realed it in I knew I had failed again. The pail was empty and I was still thirsty. I turned my back on the forsaken land and returned to the jungle trail from where I came. I pushed aside vines and squashed a scorpion as I made my way to up the meandering road home. I lived in a way the rest of the world had forgotten and most have had since been ignoring. I took my time because there was never a sense of time, or a need for urgency. There was no such thing as a day, a week, or a month. Nature doesn't count down the seconds - it counts the seasons. My family and I counted time in cycles. There was a time for growing, and a time for harvest, a time for life and death- to everything its proper "time". But the time was never our choice to make. Such is the life of a young farmer's girl to be free to explore, to have fun, and look for answers by looking to the world. There was a rich history in our soil, I felt it as I ran barefoot. I ran all the way to our river near our chosa that had always proved loyal in providing water. And I remembered the time my grandfather had promised to take me to the Mayan ruins in Copan. It wasn't far but somehow we couldn't get ourselves to leave and soon we wouldn't be able to. The rainy season was fast upon us and it promised mudslides being that we lived on a mountain. Looking around I knew I would eventually have to leave my home, alone. I would go to a new land where I would have many mountains to climb. I would play with my mother again and see my father for the first time. My aunt helped me pronounce their names and taught me the English alphabet after my grandmother had been murdered. I put on a brave face as best I could for a six year old girl and carried on. I made a decision that would change my life that day - I would keep my pail and find another river.
I really did know what to write about for this one or... well any of them... I couldn't sleep so I decided to start the college applications. I feel so bad because I don't know how to really talk about myself, that's why I have been procrastinating so much. I'm so afraid of coming off too corny or ordinary. But I'm trying and I could really use some help. . Thank you!
When I came to America the last thing I ever felt was safe. I had accepted chaos as a natural part of life much like my home life. I never expected to achieve anything. Mainly my past pessissmism was to due to constantly being reminded how silly my dreams were by my parents. They like many other parents thought that a career in the medical field was best and for years I didn't have the courage to say "no".
It all started with a pair of ballet slippers. They were small but they held my dreams where no one could get at them. They made me feel safe for the first time in my life. I remember walking into the dance studio with them for the first time and quickly being overwhelmed. The beauty of ballet came from years of pain and diligence. It took initiative and action and resulted in many failures, but that's what kept me motivated to learn. To be a ballerina was to be a living work of art. I knew it wouldn't be easy but I didn't care.
When no one was looking I would cut pieces of paper into fortune cookie sized messages. I allowed myself to be selfish and write down my dreams: "I want to go to a great college", "I want to travel the world", "I want to be a writer/artist", "I want to read every book ever made", "I want my house to have a library". To keep them safe from doubt I would put them in my ballet slippers where they would always be there for me. I began to see my slippers as a guarantee that with time and dedication I couldn't fail to achieve whatever it is I wanted.
As time went on I had to stop my ballet lessons due to lack of money, but I kept dancing anyhow. I stopped being a victim of my problems and started to let my dreams led the way. When I was seventeen I no longer needed my ballet slippers to reassure me, so I passed them down to my six year old sister to use when she would take ballet lessons and I would be away at college.
ok and here is a part of what I want to include in my personal essay. Is it any good?
I had expected the river to be full for some reason. The pail made an uneasy decline to the coarse river bed. When I pulled it back up I had found it empty. But my grandmother had always told me to always keep trying, so I did. I went back to my chosa and found a bigger pail and came back to the edge that seemed to promise water. Feeling confident this time I dropped it but as I realed it in I knew I had failed again. The pail was empty and I was still thirsty. I turned my back on the forsaken land and returned to the jungle trail from where I came. I pushed aside vines and squashed a scorpion as I made my way to up the meandering road home. I lived in a way the rest of the world had forgotten and most have had since been ignoring. I took my time because there was never a sense of time, or a need for urgency. There was no such thing as a day, a week, or a month. Nature doesn't count down the seconds - it counts the seasons. My family and I counted time in cycles. There was a time for growing, and a time for harvest, a time for life and death- to everything its proper "time". But the time was never our choice to make. Such is the life of a young farmer's girl to be free to explore, to have fun, and look for answers by looking to the world. There was a rich history in our soil, I felt it as I ran barefoot. I ran all the way to our river near our chosa that had always proved loyal in providing water. And I remembered the time my grandfather had promised to take me to the Mayan ruins in Copan. It wasn't far but somehow we couldn't get ourselves to leave and soon we wouldn't be able to. The rainy season was fast upon us and it promised mudslides being that we lived on a mountain. Looking around I knew I would eventually have to leave my home, alone. I would go to a new land where I would have many mountains to climb. I would play with my mother again and see my father for the first time. My aunt helped me pronounce their names and taught me the English alphabet after my grandmother had been murdered. I put on a brave face as best I could for a six year old girl and carried on. I made a decision that would change my life that day - I would keep my pail and find another river.