I'd really appreciate some feedback! Do you think it answers the prompt? I think I'm at ~350 words and I need to be under 250 so it would be a great help if you suggested any cuts as well.
Stanford students possess an intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development.
My scene analysis on Angels in America was a tough paper to write. I knew what I wanted to write about: Harper, one of the play's misunderstood protagonists, and how her daydreams about a fictitious life in Antarctica had become a ticking time bomb. Antarctica was an illusion for Harper, one whose comforts could not outlast reality.
The ideas were all there, but in two hours' time, I mustered up a meager hundred fifty words. I could see the imprint of Microsoft Word's white background when I closed my eyes. It was almost as if my own word processor was taunting me. This was not a very effective writing session, and I had noticed that sessions of this sort were becoming more frequent. It wasn't that I didn't have the focus-I did-but I was getting obsessed with craft-with sentence variation, syntax, and rhythm. Typing a sentence, only to retype it three more times, was becoming a habit with me, evidence that my appreciation for the nuances of the English language was starting to stifle my train of thought.
I decided to test out a simple solution. I closed my laptop and pushed it to the side. I pulled out three sheets of paper and reached for a black pen. Putting words to paper, I saw the thoughts that had been stewing in my head at last come to life. As I wrote, I journeyed to Antarctica in Harper's boots, harbored the same insecurities that she harbored, and felt, with certainty and desperation, that my illusions could shatter at any moment. I came to understand Harper more clearly than ever before. I had written messily, furiously, and passionately, and my ideas were all on paper. They were coarse, no doubt, but I had given my writing substance.
By preventing myself from being able delete my writing at the press of a key, I allowed my ideas to materialize and mature, and I discovered Harper intimately, as if I was her confidante. For a moment, thinking back to my own moments of fragility, I felt I actually was her. My experience writing about Harper taught me that oftentimes, an essential step to taking a step forward in an intellectual quest, is to first take a step back.
Stanford students possess an intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development.
My scene analysis on Angels in America was a tough paper to write. I knew what I wanted to write about: Harper, one of the play's misunderstood protagonists, and how her daydreams about a fictitious life in Antarctica had become a ticking time bomb. Antarctica was an illusion for Harper, one whose comforts could not outlast reality.
The ideas were all there, but in two hours' time, I mustered up a meager hundred fifty words. I could see the imprint of Microsoft Word's white background when I closed my eyes. It was almost as if my own word processor was taunting me. This was not a very effective writing session, and I had noticed that sessions of this sort were becoming more frequent. It wasn't that I didn't have the focus-I did-but I was getting obsessed with craft-with sentence variation, syntax, and rhythm. Typing a sentence, only to retype it three more times, was becoming a habit with me, evidence that my appreciation for the nuances of the English language was starting to stifle my train of thought.
I decided to test out a simple solution. I closed my laptop and pushed it to the side. I pulled out three sheets of paper and reached for a black pen. Putting words to paper, I saw the thoughts that had been stewing in my head at last come to life. As I wrote, I journeyed to Antarctica in Harper's boots, harbored the same insecurities that she harbored, and felt, with certainty and desperation, that my illusions could shatter at any moment. I came to understand Harper more clearly than ever before. I had written messily, furiously, and passionately, and my ideas were all on paper. They were coarse, no doubt, but I had given my writing substance.
By preventing myself from being able delete my writing at the press of a key, I allowed my ideas to materialize and mature, and I discovered Harper intimately, as if I was her confidante. For a moment, thinking back to my own moments of fragility, I felt I actually was her. My experience writing about Harper taught me that oftentimes, an essential step to taking a step forward in an intellectual quest, is to first take a step back.