Hello,
I am writing this essay to show what I have to contribute. Honest feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!
Here's the prompt: The quality of Rice's academic life and the Residential College System are heavily influenced by the unique life experiences and cultural traditions each student brings. What perspective do you feel that you will contribute to life at Rice?
It was a late school night, and even though the day had been tough, I could do nothing but sit and wait. The silence had caused my patience and composure to flee, leaving me to face fear head on. And yet all I could do was sit in that chair with a worn cushion, that chair that had and will seat many more like me. Its scent was uncomfortable yet welcomed, smelling of acceptance, smelling of the loss of hope. I sat, allowing the stagnant walls to echo the voids of loneliness. I sat, wishing for her, and for us, to pull through together.
I had been woken by my stepfather late that night, leading me to find her in her room, lying on her side. Our tear filled eyes met, and as she gasped for precious breath, she held her chest, making time float heavily, dreadfully suspended in the thick atmosphere of anxiety. Her bluing countenance made my insides turn into water, letting the big "why?" run through my head, strangling my sinking heart in a deadly hold. I moved her tear soaked hair from her face until the red and white flashes from the ambulance colored our faces. The strange men in white and blue came and took her away, leaving me uncertain, afraid, and alone.
My beautifully delicate mother has lived a tired life. I wonder how such a tiny woman can have so much strength, but my mother was strong enough to survive her husband's death, her battle with thyroid cancer, and to this day, she possesses enough might to carry the heavy load of loving her five young adults, having cared for my siblings and I since day one. I never imagined that one could love as much as she can. She is the kind of mother that laughed when I accidentally put salt in her coffee instead of sugar, the kind that is able to have held me as I cried, making my homosexuality known. As ashamed as many may be to have a lesbian for a daughter, she proudly made it known that her hard working, persevering daughter was gay. My mother's victories over her ever so tricky life have inspired me to make the best of every little situation, to make two rights from every wrong. She is the one I call best friend, my amazing and incredible mother.
While I sat in that hospital, I thought I had forever lost her to cruel and wretched death. Terrible thoughts of a life without her fueled my already racing heart, almost numbing me to the point of painlessness. Deep breaths were taken, only in an attempt to mollify the void of my nearly lost better half. But finally, another strange man in white sat next to me, informing me that her strong will to fight allowed her to stay with me. Rising from the chair with the worn cushion, I walked into her room, finding my delicately tired mother asleep. I then sunk into a new, soft seat next to her bed and waited for her awakening.
It is not uncommon to have to live an uneventful life, but only a handful of people can look at every situation as either a blessing or a lesson learned. The fear that I have experienced allows me to appreciate every adversity as strength gained or a new understanding acquired. I am able to offer a radiant optimism to those I meet due to every tear that has been shed or withheld. With my hands, callous and tough from working in and out of school, I am enabled and willing to offer the firmest of work ethics and disciplines. And with my words, I intend to bestow the most ardent inspiration that sparks the desires to learn, to live, and to love the life that needs to be lived.
I am writing this essay to show what I have to contribute. Honest feedback would be greatly appreciated! Thank you!
Here's the prompt: The quality of Rice's academic life and the Residential College System are heavily influenced by the unique life experiences and cultural traditions each student brings. What perspective do you feel that you will contribute to life at Rice?
It was a late school night, and even though the day had been tough, I could do nothing but sit and wait. The silence had caused my patience and composure to flee, leaving me to face fear head on. And yet all I could do was sit in that chair with a worn cushion, that chair that had and will seat many more like me. Its scent was uncomfortable yet welcomed, smelling of acceptance, smelling of the loss of hope. I sat, allowing the stagnant walls to echo the voids of loneliness. I sat, wishing for her, and for us, to pull through together.
I had been woken by my stepfather late that night, leading me to find her in her room, lying on her side. Our tear filled eyes met, and as she gasped for precious breath, she held her chest, making time float heavily, dreadfully suspended in the thick atmosphere of anxiety. Her bluing countenance made my insides turn into water, letting the big "why?" run through my head, strangling my sinking heart in a deadly hold. I moved her tear soaked hair from her face until the red and white flashes from the ambulance colored our faces. The strange men in white and blue came and took her away, leaving me uncertain, afraid, and alone.
My beautifully delicate mother has lived a tired life. I wonder how such a tiny woman can have so much strength, but my mother was strong enough to survive her husband's death, her battle with thyroid cancer, and to this day, she possesses enough might to carry the heavy load of loving her five young adults, having cared for my siblings and I since day one. I never imagined that one could love as much as she can. She is the kind of mother that laughed when I accidentally put salt in her coffee instead of sugar, the kind that is able to have held me as I cried, making my homosexuality known. As ashamed as many may be to have a lesbian for a daughter, she proudly made it known that her hard working, persevering daughter was gay. My mother's victories over her ever so tricky life have inspired me to make the best of every little situation, to make two rights from every wrong. She is the one I call best friend, my amazing and incredible mother.
While I sat in that hospital, I thought I had forever lost her to cruel and wretched death. Terrible thoughts of a life without her fueled my already racing heart, almost numbing me to the point of painlessness. Deep breaths were taken, only in an attempt to mollify the void of my nearly lost better half. But finally, another strange man in white sat next to me, informing me that her strong will to fight allowed her to stay with me. Rising from the chair with the worn cushion, I walked into her room, finding my delicately tired mother asleep. I then sunk into a new, soft seat next to her bed and waited for her awakening.
It is not uncommon to have to live an uneventful life, but only a handful of people can look at every situation as either a blessing or a lesson learned. The fear that I have experienced allows me to appreciate every adversity as strength gained or a new understanding acquired. I am able to offer a radiant optimism to those I meet due to every tear that has been shed or withheld. With my hands, callous and tough from working in and out of school, I am enabled and willing to offer the firmest of work ethics and disciplines. And with my words, I intend to bestow the most ardent inspiration that sparks the desires to learn, to live, and to love the life that needs to be lived.
