Hi everyone , this is the main essay in my commonapp .
Please be brutal and edit any redundant ideas , since the essay is already 700 words long .
I would appreciate any help ,
Thanks
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Over and over again, I have been reminded of how much beneficial riding a bike can be. It is the third most physical important skill in one's childhood, giving significant improvements in sense of balance, boosting morale quality, and after all a wonderful exercise. In the setting of such thriving developing country like Viet Nam, where streets are overwhelming with motorbikes, and buses never arrive on time, bike riding disability is believed to a huge drawback. Though most of kids in Viet Nam mature their deft skills in bike riding when they are 8, I am the sole exception.
It took me 10 years from my first attempt to make friend with a bike to my second try, and both of them ended up with the tricycle. If you do not know any bikes, there is probably no chance at all to acquire intimacy with a motorbike, the national transportation in my country, so all you can get after a long tiring school day is a bus with people packed like salmons. However, the fatiguing procedure of traveling without a bike is still not as devastating as the flaw itself. It is a tremendous scar which marks immaturity, dependency, and bizarreness that separates one from the ordinary people. There were times when I wished that it was really a physical scar that can be covered with layers of clothes, so I can easily blended in with normal kids.
Yet the shortfall itself was not severe, so I developed my own mechanism to avoid it. I find my moments of relief in fleeting times, in my activities with friends and family. But avoidance is not the answer. That awkward feeling came back posses me in social occasion, in the surprised eyes of elders, or the subtle smile of the youngsters. It was no mystical second of epiphany that pulled me out the black hole of isolation. Instead, it was a gradual process that invoked by an acquaintance.
To be specific, it was bluntly the time when I got asked by a friend to be his tutor on the upcoming Math exams. We were both in the Computer Science class, so with great grades in science-related class, I, and most people would assume that we would do remarkably in Math. However, he did not. He had rough experiences with Math, and Calculus was the most terrifying entity he had ever seen. I had never looked down on him, or even indulged the thought of he should be ashamed since most of the class did well in Math, but I could not help but notice that nervous look in his eyes. He was timid when he tried to whisper in unexpectedly low voice, as if he afraid the world would hear that he need help with his Mathematics. Anyhow, that look resembled a familiar image carved in my mind. It was my appearance when I tried to explain why cannot I ride a bike, or redundantly convince that bike riding disability is not a big thing. Started from then, I spotted that expression over and over again from my surroundings. It was the look of my mother when she confessed she does not know how to make ice cream. It was there in the voice of my father when he tried to sign up a Facebook account. It was showed in my teacher when tried her best to at least make the anthem sounds right. Who would have known ?
After a while, I realized how dull I was. I am so much more than my apparent short-fall. I was limited myself to a bleak vision where everyone would disregard me for my obvious imperfection. Only then I finally break myself from such an imaginative cage. I sense a state of confident of who I am, also courage to expose myself to my world and the people in it . True, it would be weird for an urban kid in Ho Chi Minh City lacks the skill to ride the bike. Still, there is no mere mean can prevent him from achieve thousand other astonishing skills set.
Please be brutal and edit any redundant ideas , since the essay is already 700 words long .
I would appreciate any help ,
Thanks
------
Over and over again, I have been reminded of how much beneficial riding a bike can be. It is the third most physical important skill in one's childhood, giving significant improvements in sense of balance, boosting morale quality, and after all a wonderful exercise. In the setting of such thriving developing country like Viet Nam, where streets are overwhelming with motorbikes, and buses never arrive on time, bike riding disability is believed to a huge drawback. Though most of kids in Viet Nam mature their deft skills in bike riding when they are 8, I am the sole exception.
It took me 10 years from my first attempt to make friend with a bike to my second try, and both of them ended up with the tricycle. If you do not know any bikes, there is probably no chance at all to acquire intimacy with a motorbike, the national transportation in my country, so all you can get after a long tiring school day is a bus with people packed like salmons. However, the fatiguing procedure of traveling without a bike is still not as devastating as the flaw itself. It is a tremendous scar which marks immaturity, dependency, and bizarreness that separates one from the ordinary people. There were times when I wished that it was really a physical scar that can be covered with layers of clothes, so I can easily blended in with normal kids.
Yet the shortfall itself was not severe, so I developed my own mechanism to avoid it. I find my moments of relief in fleeting times, in my activities with friends and family. But avoidance is not the answer. That awkward feeling came back posses me in social occasion, in the surprised eyes of elders, or the subtle smile of the youngsters. It was no mystical second of epiphany that pulled me out the black hole of isolation. Instead, it was a gradual process that invoked by an acquaintance.
To be specific, it was bluntly the time when I got asked by a friend to be his tutor on the upcoming Math exams. We were both in the Computer Science class, so with great grades in science-related class, I, and most people would assume that we would do remarkably in Math. However, he did not. He had rough experiences with Math, and Calculus was the most terrifying entity he had ever seen. I had never looked down on him, or even indulged the thought of he should be ashamed since most of the class did well in Math, but I could not help but notice that nervous look in his eyes. He was timid when he tried to whisper in unexpectedly low voice, as if he afraid the world would hear that he need help with his Mathematics. Anyhow, that look resembled a familiar image carved in my mind. It was my appearance when I tried to explain why cannot I ride a bike, or redundantly convince that bike riding disability is not a big thing. Started from then, I spotted that expression over and over again from my surroundings. It was the look of my mother when she confessed she does not know how to make ice cream. It was there in the voice of my father when he tried to sign up a Facebook account. It was showed in my teacher when tried her best to at least make the anthem sounds right. Who would have known ?
After a while, I realized how dull I was. I am so much more than my apparent short-fall. I was limited myself to a bleak vision where everyone would disregard me for my obvious imperfection. Only then I finally break myself from such an imaginative cage. I sense a state of confident of who I am, also courage to expose myself to my world and the people in it . True, it would be weird for an urban kid in Ho Chi Minh City lacks the skill to ride the bike. Still, there is no mere mean can prevent him from achieve thousand other astonishing skills set.
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