This is my main essay for the common app. I had a very difficult time with the topic. I wanted to do something about travel because I've been to many different/strange places, but I thought it would be too cliche or not focused enough because I wouldn't be able to stick to ONE particular experience, so I did it about Tae Kwon Do instead (which is still a bit cliche..). Anyways, here it is. Any criticism would be great and if you think I should do a different topic let me know.
A boxing glove flew by me at lightening speed, yet at the same time in slow motion. My breathing was rapid but in my mind I was relaxed - or at least I was trying to be. Being in the ring with someone 15 years older than me, just a few inches less than ten inches taller than me, along with ten years of belt seniority over me is not just intimidating but a bit frightening. The moves are quick and the evasions are essential. A crescent kick from my instructor whizzes up from the ground to the pinnacle of my head and outlines my entire silhouette, as if his foot was an ink pen being swiftly guided around a stencil. "Get out of the corner!" exits my instructor's mouth and enters my ears about a millisecond after I feel the rope behind me push with tension against my sweat drenched back. I was defeated. "Now how are you going to avoid that on your black belt test?" my Tae Kwon Do and kickboxing instructor, Brian, asks. It is these few weeks before my black belt test when my ten years of training seems to be repeated again - only this time in a three week period.
Tae Kwon Do has been a massive part of my life since I was seven years old. It was never a phase or an option - in my mind it was simply mandatory. Giving up Tae Kwon Do would be like starving myself of my own integrity. On a shelf next to the expired soccer tournament trophies I never bothered to move and beloved bamboo flute are my belts - white to advanced brown - hanging on my wall in pristine condition. However, my focus was now centered on the future of my Tae Kwon Do career and not the past. After being an advanced brown belt for two years, achieving a black belt was my next goal. Instead of finding something to do with my friends on Fridays, I would be at the gym - punching, blocking, dodging, running, and analyzing. I did not just feel a true sense of effort, but also dedication. Putting such an extreme amount of focus into a particular activity was strenuous, but every day I would come out of it feeling better than the previous day.
When test day arrived, I spent almost three hours stretching and anticipating my incoming doom or the greatest moment of my life. All the instructors and students I considered good friends had become a mass of murderous monsters. I knew they were not there to try and beat me to death, but in a situation where I knew I would be sparring ten experienced black belts in one on one rounds after already tiring from the basic test involving forms and other various complex moves, they seemed to be looming over me like a gray cloud preparing to create a concentration of rain. Fighting through the test was not just a physical test, but an emotional one. Every time I would stop breathing like I was told "in through the nose, out through the mouth" I would have to recollect my thoughts and adjust. Towards the end of the test, I knew I had accomplished something. The ritual of every student and instructor at the dojo dropping down to their knees and watching the spiritual feeling belt ceremony revealed to me that I had reached my goal. However, I did not immediately reveal that success to myself.
I was a black belt. I knew this, but I didn't feel a connection to my new ranking at all. My test felt like a dream - mind the sore limbs - and in class at 9 a.m. the next day I felt no different than from when I was an advanced brown belt. After a few weeks went by, I realized the truth in my belt. It was not just an object that would warrant me respect and self-worth, but one that required me to work harder and to progress even more in my skills and attitude. There was now an example to set and to consistently hold up to. Once a black belt, everything is completed with the objective of improving. I had expected to feel accomplished after earning my black belt, but I had never expected to feel more and more inclined to do well. It taught me that there is no pinnacle in life - everything can be consistently improved and built upon. My connection with my belt revealed my connection with life, and without it, my views would have never been the same.
A boxing glove flew by me at lightening speed, yet at the same time in slow motion. My breathing was rapid but in my mind I was relaxed - or at least I was trying to be. Being in the ring with someone 15 years older than me, just a few inches less than ten inches taller than me, along with ten years of belt seniority over me is not just intimidating but a bit frightening. The moves are quick and the evasions are essential. A crescent kick from my instructor whizzes up from the ground to the pinnacle of my head and outlines my entire silhouette, as if his foot was an ink pen being swiftly guided around a stencil. "Get out of the corner!" exits my instructor's mouth and enters my ears about a millisecond after I feel the rope behind me push with tension against my sweat drenched back. I was defeated. "Now how are you going to avoid that on your black belt test?" my Tae Kwon Do and kickboxing instructor, Brian, asks. It is these few weeks before my black belt test when my ten years of training seems to be repeated again - only this time in a three week period.
Tae Kwon Do has been a massive part of my life since I was seven years old. It was never a phase or an option - in my mind it was simply mandatory. Giving up Tae Kwon Do would be like starving myself of my own integrity. On a shelf next to the expired soccer tournament trophies I never bothered to move and beloved bamboo flute are my belts - white to advanced brown - hanging on my wall in pristine condition. However, my focus was now centered on the future of my Tae Kwon Do career and not the past. After being an advanced brown belt for two years, achieving a black belt was my next goal. Instead of finding something to do with my friends on Fridays, I would be at the gym - punching, blocking, dodging, running, and analyzing. I did not just feel a true sense of effort, but also dedication. Putting such an extreme amount of focus into a particular activity was strenuous, but every day I would come out of it feeling better than the previous day.
When test day arrived, I spent almost three hours stretching and anticipating my incoming doom or the greatest moment of my life. All the instructors and students I considered good friends had become a mass of murderous monsters. I knew they were not there to try and beat me to death, but in a situation where I knew I would be sparring ten experienced black belts in one on one rounds after already tiring from the basic test involving forms and other various complex moves, they seemed to be looming over me like a gray cloud preparing to create a concentration of rain. Fighting through the test was not just a physical test, but an emotional one. Every time I would stop breathing like I was told "in through the nose, out through the mouth" I would have to recollect my thoughts and adjust. Towards the end of the test, I knew I had accomplished something. The ritual of every student and instructor at the dojo dropping down to their knees and watching the spiritual feeling belt ceremony revealed to me that I had reached my goal. However, I did not immediately reveal that success to myself.
I was a black belt. I knew this, but I didn't feel a connection to my new ranking at all. My test felt like a dream - mind the sore limbs - and in class at 9 a.m. the next day I felt no different than from when I was an advanced brown belt. After a few weeks went by, I realized the truth in my belt. It was not just an object that would warrant me respect and self-worth, but one that required me to work harder and to progress even more in my skills and attitude. There was now an example to set and to consistently hold up to. Once a black belt, everything is completed with the objective of improving. I had expected to feel accomplished after earning my black belt, but I had never expected to feel more and more inclined to do well. It taught me that there is no pinnacle in life - everything can be consistently improved and built upon. My connection with my belt revealed my connection with life, and without it, my views would have never been the same.
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