(I know the title sucks.)
Here's one of my Brown supplement essays:
Prompt:
B. Sculptor Jacques Lipchitz once said, "Cubism is like standing at a certain point on a mountain and looking around. If you go higher, things will look different; if you go lower, again they will look different. It is a point of view." With this in mind, describe a moment when your perspective changed.
In December of 2011, I lived an interesting twist to an old adage: "You never know what you have 'till it's gone." My first visit to Colombia in ten years proved to be very impactful; it changed the way I viewed the importance of family and rearranged my priorities.
I arrived late at night, around two in the morning. The airport was dead. The Colombian security officials were tired. Barranquilla was asleep. Yet, in my grandparent's second floor balcony, my entire extended family was waiting on me. I was greeted by a procession of hugs, kisses, tears, music, and the typical Colombian food I had been deprived of for ten years. Even my blind eighty-four year old grandfather who rarely makes it past nine at night was waiting for me in his rocking chair.
My arrival foreshadowed the rest of my stay in Barranquilla. From arrival to departure, my family members went out of their way to make my visit truly special. I was treated to a countless of number of meals, attractions, and even a trip to the beach by uncles, aunts, and cousins. Even with all of indulgences I received, it was the intangible moments my family provided which made the trip special. The jokes, the laughs, the stories, the talks, and every moment I shared with the people I hadn't seen in a decade made that Christmas the best I've ever had.
In its own way, the experience was also saddening. In the same balcony where I shared the most blissful moment of my life the day of my arrival, I became aware of the sad reality of the past decade. Sitting alone in my granddad's rocking chair while everyone was taking their ''siesta'', I reflected upon a sad truth: what I was currently experiencing is what I had missed out on for the past ten years. I never truly knew what I had until I experienced it firsthand. I had never truly realized how great it was having a big, loving, fun family. It was impossible for me to considering I was seven when I left them.
After my Christmas in Barranquilla, I began to value family more. I communicate with my cousins through social media every day, hoping to at least capture some of what I miss out on. I also value the family I do have with me - my dad, my mom, and my brothers. I've become a lot closer with all of them, especially my dad.
I'm not too comfortable with this draft, to be honest, but I do have something to build upon. Any criticism or correction welcome!
Here's one of my Brown supplement essays:
Prompt:
B. Sculptor Jacques Lipchitz once said, "Cubism is like standing at a certain point on a mountain and looking around. If you go higher, things will look different; if you go lower, again they will look different. It is a point of view." With this in mind, describe a moment when your perspective changed.
In December of 2011, I lived an interesting twist to an old adage: "You never know what you have 'till it's gone." My first visit to Colombia in ten years proved to be very impactful; it changed the way I viewed the importance of family and rearranged my priorities.
I arrived late at night, around two in the morning. The airport was dead. The Colombian security officials were tired. Barranquilla was asleep. Yet, in my grandparent's second floor balcony, my entire extended family was waiting on me. I was greeted by a procession of hugs, kisses, tears, music, and the typical Colombian food I had been deprived of for ten years. Even my blind eighty-four year old grandfather who rarely makes it past nine at night was waiting for me in his rocking chair.
My arrival foreshadowed the rest of my stay in Barranquilla. From arrival to departure, my family members went out of their way to make my visit truly special. I was treated to a countless of number of meals, attractions, and even a trip to the beach by uncles, aunts, and cousins. Even with all of indulgences I received, it was the intangible moments my family provided which made the trip special. The jokes, the laughs, the stories, the talks, and every moment I shared with the people I hadn't seen in a decade made that Christmas the best I've ever had.
In its own way, the experience was also saddening. In the same balcony where I shared the most blissful moment of my life the day of my arrival, I became aware of the sad reality of the past decade. Sitting alone in my granddad's rocking chair while everyone was taking their ''siesta'', I reflected upon a sad truth: what I was currently experiencing is what I had missed out on for the past ten years. I never truly knew what I had until I experienced it firsthand. I had never truly realized how great it was having a big, loving, fun family. It was impossible for me to considering I was seven when I left them.
After my Christmas in Barranquilla, I began to value family more. I communicate with my cousins through social media every day, hoping to at least capture some of what I miss out on. I also value the family I do have with me - my dad, my mom, and my brothers. I've become a lot closer with all of them, especially my dad.
I'm not too comfortable with this draft, to be honest, but I do have something to build upon. Any criticism or correction welcome!
