Prompt #1 (freshman applicants)
Describe the world you come from - for example, your family, community or school - and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations.
any edits, advice, or constructive criticism would be appreciated! thanks!
"No! It's at a 90-degree angle! I'm going to fall off!" I search wildly for an escape, but my friend Tiffany pushes me into the loading zone. "Stop exaggerating. You have an over-imagination."
No kidding. It's 95 degrees here at Six Flags, and I never expected to figure out my college essay on V2: Vertical Velocity. As I begrudgingly buckled in, I pulled the bar down as tight as possible and warned Tiffany. "You're going to miss me when I die. And don't forget the guilt, that'll never go away."
As the ride operator begins counting down, "10, 9, 8..."
I try to calm down and think about the elusive college essay that I have yet to start. Right, no anxiety there. "5, 4, 3..."
My eyes flew open as we throttled ahead, my contacts almost popping out from the wind. I look down and see the entire park resting below my candy-apple red toes. Amongst the crowd, I notice a kid struggling to carry a giant whale. I wonder how much his parents paid for him to win that...I'm sure he cried. Whoa, there's the sky. Why I am spinning? I see the crowds again, and notice Daffy Duck plagued by children. In that sweaty costume is probably a 26-year-old guy, just waiting to get a promotion. Or another job. Too bad his college debt is so high, and that he wants to propose to his high school sweetheart. The scream that escapes my throat surprises me. We're going backwards, 70 miles an hour, my legs flying in front of me. I bet this is what time travel feels like. Suddenly, I feel myself falling face-forward.
I squeeze my eyes shut, ignore the swooping feeling in my stomach, and think about what Tiffany has told me. I do have a vivid imagination; in fact, that's exactly how I'd describe the world I come from. I have been making up stories since I was six, and scripted the lives of my dolls. I would say my lines, and tell my little sister how her dolls were supposed to respond. Then at age eleven, on the ride home from the flower nursery, I excitedly pieced together a horror story with my dad as the evil villain. Even now, there are times when I can't fall sleep because I have to get an idea onto paper.
Oh my god, the coaster is pausing at the highest point. What if I get stuck up here? At least I'm not upside down. All 16 rows of trapped people could get to know each other; the thirty-two of us discussing our ambitions and greatest fears, now that getting stuck on a roller coaster has been done. We hurtle backwards, going through a corkscrew, and I knock my head against the seat. Ow.
I write because I can't contain all the ideas and stories in my head. On paper, my ambitions are predictable: editor of the CSPA (Columbia Scholastic Press Association)-winning yearbook, creative director of Bay Magazine, volunteering at the library in every possible way...but you know what? The world could use another writer.
Describe the world you come from - for example, your family, community or school - and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations.
any edits, advice, or constructive criticism would be appreciated! thanks!
"No! It's at a 90-degree angle! I'm going to fall off!" I search wildly for an escape, but my friend Tiffany pushes me into the loading zone. "Stop exaggerating. You have an over-imagination."
No kidding. It's 95 degrees here at Six Flags, and I never expected to figure out my college essay on V2: Vertical Velocity. As I begrudgingly buckled in, I pulled the bar down as tight as possible and warned Tiffany. "You're going to miss me when I die. And don't forget the guilt, that'll never go away."
As the ride operator begins counting down, "10, 9, 8..."
I try to calm down and think about the elusive college essay that I have yet to start. Right, no anxiety there. "5, 4, 3..."
My eyes flew open as we throttled ahead, my contacts almost popping out from the wind. I look down and see the entire park resting below my candy-apple red toes. Amongst the crowd, I notice a kid struggling to carry a giant whale. I wonder how much his parents paid for him to win that...I'm sure he cried. Whoa, there's the sky. Why I am spinning? I see the crowds again, and notice Daffy Duck plagued by children. In that sweaty costume is probably a 26-year-old guy, just waiting to get a promotion. Or another job. Too bad his college debt is so high, and that he wants to propose to his high school sweetheart. The scream that escapes my throat surprises me. We're going backwards, 70 miles an hour, my legs flying in front of me. I bet this is what time travel feels like. Suddenly, I feel myself falling face-forward.
I squeeze my eyes shut, ignore the swooping feeling in my stomach, and think about what Tiffany has told me. I do have a vivid imagination; in fact, that's exactly how I'd describe the world I come from. I have been making up stories since I was six, and scripted the lives of my dolls. I would say my lines, and tell my little sister how her dolls were supposed to respond. Then at age eleven, on the ride home from the flower nursery, I excitedly pieced together a horror story with my dad as the evil villain. Even now, there are times when I can't fall sleep because I have to get an idea onto paper.
Oh my god, the coaster is pausing at the highest point. What if I get stuck up here? At least I'm not upside down. All 16 rows of trapped people could get to know each other; the thirty-two of us discussing our ambitions and greatest fears, now that getting stuck on a roller coaster has been done. We hurtle backwards, going through a corkscrew, and I knock my head against the seat. Ow.
I write because I can't contain all the ideas and stories in my head. On paper, my ambitions are predictable: editor of the CSPA (Columbia Scholastic Press Association)-winning yearbook, creative director of Bay Magazine, volunteering at the library in every possible way...but you know what? The world could use another writer.