This is my common app personal essay. I BADLY need to send this in soon, so any last minute comments/feedback are welcome! Also, which topic do you think I should submit this under? Choice #1 or topic of your choice? Thanks in advance!!
To summarize my high school years, you could say I was a suitcase kid. Or more precisely, a duffle bag kid. I traveled solo to the metropolitan areas of Japan several times, mostly to take the dreaded college exams or fulfill some other kind of requirements. I would jump on a train in the afternoon, watching the panorama blur past me as I left behind my little hometown on the island of Shikoku, then seeing the whole view in replay as I came back after dusk the following day. I must say that most of my trips were short and bland, simply to tidy up matters and come whizzing back home. However, my senior year summer break was different. This time, I was going on a vacation.
At school, we had been debating on how to spend the summer. That was when my friend and I formed our plans of going to Tokyo. Initially, it seemed like a great idea. I badly needed to take the TOEFL, and she wanted to visit the campus of her dream school. Definitely an all-in-one, killing two birds with one stone trip. We were excited at the notion of going on a vacation, just the two of us. It would be a scholarly, fun and relieving break from the high school strains. Needless to say, that wasn't quite how it turned out.
We set off at 8 pm on that August night. After 11 doleful hours on the packed up Kochi Dream (courtesy of the JR Highway Bus Company), we stepped down onto the suburbs of the Eastern Metropolis. Several transfers on the subway, and we finally arrived at our lodging.
After checking in and throwing down our bags, we pondered on the night's meal. We were merely two seniors; eating out for three nights and we would certainly go broke. Remembering the supermarket we passed by, the idea hit me. The ultimate money-saving option: why not just cook dinner ourselves? Ten minutes later, we were out to shop for supper.
Upon returning to the hotel with our prized groceries, we strolled up to the service counter.
"Could we borrow some pans and bowls?" "Certainly."
"Oh, and we'd like a knife too." The hotel clerk's forehead creased as he gave us a lopsided smile.
"I'm sorry, but we don't provide knives for the guest rooms."
That was not something we had expected. We returned to our rooms, deflated, with a butter-knife. Hopes for a julienne salad wilted. Our menu options shrunk to certain vegetables and boil-in-the-bag foods. During our dinner preparation though, I found that the tomatoes could be cut with a butter-knife quite easily. What a relief. That night, we toasted to hand-shredded cabbage, jagged tomato wedges, and instant rice. As we ate, the breathtaking view from the window and the faint sounds of planes touching down in the distance reminded me of where we were now. Although in the same country, I marveled at how foreign the landscape seemed, yet how strongly I felt a sense of familiarity. The look on my friend's face told me she was feeling the same. We hit the bunk shortly after supper.
The following day I awoke to the sounds of screaming. Dazed, I realized the somewhat Bruce Lee like wails were coming from my friend's mobile phone. It was her alarm ringing. While I mentally questioned my friend's choice of alarm ringtones, she remained dead to the world. Grimacing, I scrambled for the gadget, flipped it open only to find it...locked. She had locked her phone with a password. I yelled at her as the scream was emitted a third time, whilst searching for a sledgehammer or something as a last resort. Finally, after several sharp nudges, she snapped out of her dreamlike state and turned off the device. The high-pitched cries of Bruce Lee died down. I anxiously looked at the clock to see that five minutes had passed since the first ring. Sighing, we got ready for the day's events.
The days went on like that. Gradually, we made a good combination: she handled the leisure spots, I took care of the transportation routes. At night we would saw away at vegetables with a butter-knife and drink miso soup from our cups, later figuring out math equations on the coffee table. On the third day we went our separate ways, as we headed off for our intended purposes. I must say that my stay in Tokyo certainly nurtured my senses and friendship. I can now tolerate my friend's sleepy-headedness, read the subway map smoothly, and make adequate use of the butter-knife.
Next time though, I'd rather not have a Bruce Lee alarm clock.
By the way, my last paragraph kinda sucks. Any suggestions on how to improve it?
To summarize my high school years, you could say I was a suitcase kid. Or more precisely, a duffle bag kid. I traveled solo to the metropolitan areas of Japan several times, mostly to take the dreaded college exams or fulfill some other kind of requirements. I would jump on a train in the afternoon, watching the panorama blur past me as I left behind my little hometown on the island of Shikoku, then seeing the whole view in replay as I came back after dusk the following day. I must say that most of my trips were short and bland, simply to tidy up matters and come whizzing back home. However, my senior year summer break was different. This time, I was going on a vacation.
At school, we had been debating on how to spend the summer. That was when my friend and I formed our plans of going to Tokyo. Initially, it seemed like a great idea. I badly needed to take the TOEFL, and she wanted to visit the campus of her dream school. Definitely an all-in-one, killing two birds with one stone trip. We were excited at the notion of going on a vacation, just the two of us. It would be a scholarly, fun and relieving break from the high school strains. Needless to say, that wasn't quite how it turned out.
We set off at 8 pm on that August night. After 11 doleful hours on the packed up Kochi Dream (courtesy of the JR Highway Bus Company), we stepped down onto the suburbs of the Eastern Metropolis. Several transfers on the subway, and we finally arrived at our lodging.
After checking in and throwing down our bags, we pondered on the night's meal. We were merely two seniors; eating out for three nights and we would certainly go broke. Remembering the supermarket we passed by, the idea hit me. The ultimate money-saving option: why not just cook dinner ourselves? Ten minutes later, we were out to shop for supper.
Upon returning to the hotel with our prized groceries, we strolled up to the service counter.
"Could we borrow some pans and bowls?" "Certainly."
"Oh, and we'd like a knife too." The hotel clerk's forehead creased as he gave us a lopsided smile.
"I'm sorry, but we don't provide knives for the guest rooms."
That was not something we had expected. We returned to our rooms, deflated, with a butter-knife. Hopes for a julienne salad wilted. Our menu options shrunk to certain vegetables and boil-in-the-bag foods. During our dinner preparation though, I found that the tomatoes could be cut with a butter-knife quite easily. What a relief. That night, we toasted to hand-shredded cabbage, jagged tomato wedges, and instant rice. As we ate, the breathtaking view from the window and the faint sounds of planes touching down in the distance reminded me of where we were now. Although in the same country, I marveled at how foreign the landscape seemed, yet how strongly I felt a sense of familiarity. The look on my friend's face told me she was feeling the same. We hit the bunk shortly after supper.
The following day I awoke to the sounds of screaming. Dazed, I realized the somewhat Bruce Lee like wails were coming from my friend's mobile phone. It was her alarm ringing. While I mentally questioned my friend's choice of alarm ringtones, she remained dead to the world. Grimacing, I scrambled for the gadget, flipped it open only to find it...locked. She had locked her phone with a password. I yelled at her as the scream was emitted a third time, whilst searching for a sledgehammer or something as a last resort. Finally, after several sharp nudges, she snapped out of her dreamlike state and turned off the device. The high-pitched cries of Bruce Lee died down. I anxiously looked at the clock to see that five minutes had passed since the first ring. Sighing, we got ready for the day's events.
The days went on like that. Gradually, we made a good combination: she handled the leisure spots, I took care of the transportation routes. At night we would saw away at vegetables with a butter-knife and drink miso soup from our cups, later figuring out math equations on the coffee table. On the third day we went our separate ways, as we headed off for our intended purposes. I must say that my stay in Tokyo certainly nurtured my senses and friendship. I can now tolerate my friend's sleepy-headedness, read the subway map smoothly, and make adequate use of the butter-knife.
Next time though, I'd rather not have a Bruce Lee alarm clock.
By the way, my last paragraph kinda sucks. Any suggestions on how to improve it?