Please let me know what you think. I intend to use this as a commonapp essay. Any harsh evaluation would be really appreciated.
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
All too often I confronted the ever-frowned question mark hailing me with its hook deep down to my essence, then coercing me with the insistent dot to irrevocably put an end to all my inner dilemma. The question mark's patience endures through time, but all the while its attempts proved in vain - back to the days I still have yet to assure whether or not I wanted the position.
In retrospect, my cheek at that moment blushed with excitement on eventually hearing the announcement, and all the wrinkles must have worked their way back and forth to present the expression too vigorously bright that even the sun could be shut. How could gladness even exempt those whose efforts finally pay off? How could pride ever pass by those who have been fairly recognized? I was selected among all the compelling candidates, I was whole-heartedly empowered. Over-bearingly as I later took sips of recalling the golden call-over, the feeling, however, never lingered long. People, after such praises and applause, heartlessly bathed me with ignorance and piles of duties which I'd never thought was mine, only acrimoniously mine. Every night I tossed and turned in my bed with how to get used to the new role demanding my very last bits of energy. How "I" alone stands out from the mass do I know well. To how "I" merging into "team" is supposed to be did I adapt many a time, lowering the personalities too strong to constitute the collective unity that enthralls. But this time, when it came to being a president, there seemed to me no guarantee against pure uncertainty - I didn't know the first thing about how "I" stands above a large number of people.
For the first few weeks being a president, I refrained from a brittle sigh in my reticence that suggested a temper easily lost as I forced myself to compromise. It was no longer me who every now and then stormed into the discussions' narrowness with rescue initiatives; instead two feasible reactions now should be either a nod or a shake of the head. A signal of identity being washed away. More destructively, struggling to fit in with the team, I heard my imagination groaning under the load of responsibility, restricting the once-in-a-millions to those possibly accomplished solutions in fear of their carrying real risks. Torn between ambivalent 'yes' or 'no' time and again, the president had no policy at all for her resistance to being a president.
What'd become of me after all if I still let the stuffy chambers of my heart and head overspilled with their contents? A flashlight crossed my sweaty nose and cheeks as the event of which I was in charge from head to toe ended with flying colors. I felt the heat rising in a blast, I leaped into teammates' warmest embraces, I let myself be bathed with satisfaction and applause. At the first time being applauded, I was recognized, and this second time amidst the applause I recognized myself, again. The position title did no harm to my self-contained world. 'Yes' or 'no' were also not only words for either acceptance or rejection, but behind each uttered word orders were imposed and freedom were allowed with equal proportions. And prideful creativity withdrew from its cacophonous meeting attendance to the intangible chambers at the back of my mind, orienting people's train of thoughts towards the right platform. Rather than vanished, hues of my identity were enriched with defter brushstrokes. With the question mark ceasing to be waggish, I could go on and on after the newly-defined colon.
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
All too often I confronted the ever-frowned question mark hailing me with its hook deep down to my essence, then coercing me with the insistent dot to irrevocably put an end to all my inner dilemma. The question mark's patience endures through time, but all the while its attempts proved in vain - back to the days I still have yet to assure whether or not I wanted the position.
In retrospect, my cheek at that moment blushed with excitement on eventually hearing the announcement, and all the wrinkles must have worked their way back and forth to present the expression too vigorously bright that even the sun could be shut. How could gladness even exempt those whose efforts finally pay off? How could pride ever pass by those who have been fairly recognized? I was selected among all the compelling candidates, I was whole-heartedly empowered. Over-bearingly as I later took sips of recalling the golden call-over, the feeling, however, never lingered long. People, after such praises and applause, heartlessly bathed me with ignorance and piles of duties which I'd never thought was mine, only acrimoniously mine. Every night I tossed and turned in my bed with how to get used to the new role demanding my very last bits of energy. How "I" alone stands out from the mass do I know well. To how "I" merging into "team" is supposed to be did I adapt many a time, lowering the personalities too strong to constitute the collective unity that enthralls. But this time, when it came to being a president, there seemed to me no guarantee against pure uncertainty - I didn't know the first thing about how "I" stands above a large number of people.
For the first few weeks being a president, I refrained from a brittle sigh in my reticence that suggested a temper easily lost as I forced myself to compromise. It was no longer me who every now and then stormed into the discussions' narrowness with rescue initiatives; instead two feasible reactions now should be either a nod or a shake of the head. A signal of identity being washed away. More destructively, struggling to fit in with the team, I heard my imagination groaning under the load of responsibility, restricting the once-in-a-millions to those possibly accomplished solutions in fear of their carrying real risks. Torn between ambivalent 'yes' or 'no' time and again, the president had no policy at all for her resistance to being a president.
What'd become of me after all if I still let the stuffy chambers of my heart and head overspilled with their contents? A flashlight crossed my sweaty nose and cheeks as the event of which I was in charge from head to toe ended with flying colors. I felt the heat rising in a blast, I leaped into teammates' warmest embraces, I let myself be bathed with satisfaction and applause. At the first time being applauded, I was recognized, and this second time amidst the applause I recognized myself, again. The position title did no harm to my self-contained world. 'Yes' or 'no' were also not only words for either acceptance or rejection, but behind each uttered word orders were imposed and freedom were allowed with equal proportions. And prideful creativity withdrew from its cacophonous meeting attendance to the intangible chambers at the back of my mind, orienting people's train of thoughts towards the right platform. Rather than vanished, hues of my identity were enriched with defter brushstrokes. With the question mark ceasing to be waggish, I could go on and on after the newly-defined colon.