So here's my supplemental for Yale. The prompt is pretty much to write anything about myself. The word limit is 500 words and sadly I go over it. I'm about 70 over to be exact. My main concerns are simply:
1. Does the message come through enough?
2. I feel as if I lack "show" and "tell" too much instead. Are there any instances where I could fix that?
3. Are there any sentences that I can combine together just so that it's tighter and more concise?
Thanks for your time and I will definitely return the favor.
"Hey bud," my dad greets me over the phone, "You ready to come down here this weekend?" It's a line that I've heard dozens of times over the recent years, with "come down here" referring to staying at his house in Irvine. I pause for a moment. "I don't want to," I tell my dad straightforwardly. He grunts and loudly shuffles over the phone before replying, "Ok. That's fine. Can you give the phone back to your mom?" I hand it back to her and resume watching cartoons.
I have no recollection of my parent's divorce seeing as how it happened when I was just two, an age in which you can't really recall memories from and where the terms "separation" and "divorce" don't make much sense. My mom took my sister and me with her down to Southern California while my father resided in Seattle. Life continued like this for two years until my dad drastically usurped all he had and moved to Irvine, an hour away from my permanent residence, my mom's house. Suddenly, the man who I only saw on Christmases became a permanent fixture at my school assemblies and piano concerts. He braved the one hour trip across the I-405 and down the I-110 every weekend to watch me huff and puff down soccer fields. And lastly, he would take me and my sister to live with him for the majority of weekends during the year. He strived to become more eminent in the lives of me and my sister and construct the typical "mother-father" environment for us.
Looking back at this period though, I'm only filled with guilt and remorse. Not because of his actions but because of mine. I failed to recognize and appreciate the incredible commitment that my dad showed, affirmed by the one hundred and fifty thousand miles amassed on his Lexus RX300. The older I got the more I detested the weekend trips to his house; "I don't know anybody over there," or "There's nothing to do at dad's house," I protested to my mother. The worst part though was that my selfishness and I often won. I can only imagine how many hours my dad spent alone at his dinner table meant for five. How heartbroken must he have been each time my voice said, "Not this weekend"?
I've realized the hurt caused by my self-centeredness and though I can never compensate for my dad's desolate hours, I can and must try. I've adopted that relentless drive and dedication exhibited by my dad. It is what carries me along the highway when I drive to soccer practice an hour away and what kept me up all night with Kippy, my Tourette's Camp camper, when he couldn't fall asleep because of his bug paranoia. I also carry that intent of my dad's to be involved as much as possible in the lives of those who matter to me. Family dinners take the place of my top priorities and I always make time for foodventures with friends.
Nowadays, my dad has found a different outlet to pour his commitment into, his new family consisting of my five and seven year old sisters, while I have to the inescapable college applications and school to distract me. Nevertheless, assuming that both of our unwavering devotions continue, a trip to his house can't be that far away.
1. Does the message come through enough?
2. I feel as if I lack "show" and "tell" too much instead. Are there any instances where I could fix that?
3. Are there any sentences that I can combine together just so that it's tighter and more concise?
Thanks for your time and I will definitely return the favor.
"Hey bud," my dad greets me over the phone, "You ready to come down here this weekend?" It's a line that I've heard dozens of times over the recent years, with "come down here" referring to staying at his house in Irvine. I pause for a moment. "I don't want to," I tell my dad straightforwardly. He grunts and loudly shuffles over the phone before replying, "Ok. That's fine. Can you give the phone back to your mom?" I hand it back to her and resume watching cartoons.
I have no recollection of my parent's divorce seeing as how it happened when I was just two, an age in which you can't really recall memories from and where the terms "separation" and "divorce" don't make much sense. My mom took my sister and me with her down to Southern California while my father resided in Seattle. Life continued like this for two years until my dad drastically usurped all he had and moved to Irvine, an hour away from my permanent residence, my mom's house. Suddenly, the man who I only saw on Christmases became a permanent fixture at my school assemblies and piano concerts. He braved the one hour trip across the I-405 and down the I-110 every weekend to watch me huff and puff down soccer fields. And lastly, he would take me and my sister to live with him for the majority of weekends during the year. He strived to become more eminent in the lives of me and my sister and construct the typical "mother-father" environment for us.
Looking back at this period though, I'm only filled with guilt and remorse. Not because of his actions but because of mine. I failed to recognize and appreciate the incredible commitment that my dad showed, affirmed by the one hundred and fifty thousand miles amassed on his Lexus RX300. The older I got the more I detested the weekend trips to his house; "I don't know anybody over there," or "There's nothing to do at dad's house," I protested to my mother. The worst part though was that my selfishness and I often won. I can only imagine how many hours my dad spent alone at his dinner table meant for five. How heartbroken must he have been each time my voice said, "Not this weekend"?
I've realized the hurt caused by my self-centeredness and though I can never compensate for my dad's desolate hours, I can and must try. I've adopted that relentless drive and dedication exhibited by my dad. It is what carries me along the highway when I drive to soccer practice an hour away and what kept me up all night with Kippy, my Tourette's Camp camper, when he couldn't fall asleep because of his bug paranoia. I also carry that intent of my dad's to be involved as much as possible in the lives of those who matter to me. Family dinners take the place of my top priorities and I always make time for foodventures with friends.
Nowadays, my dad has found a different outlet to pour his commitment into, his new family consisting of my five and seven year old sisters, while I have to the inescapable college applications and school to distract me. Nevertheless, assuming that both of our unwavering devotions continue, a trip to his house can't be that far away.
