xpouringx /
Nov 29, 2010 #1
Hi guys, this is my first time posting on here - sorry if I commit any faux pas. This is my first, ROUGH draft of my Common App Essay, Prompt #3 :
Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.
My purpose was to show, not tell, but I don't really think I accomplished that.
Plus, I need to cut it down drastically. Thanks so much for any help!
Oh, should I worry about people stealing my essay off of here? I'll delete my post if that's the case! Or can you PM essays to each other?
"Datch"
All my twin and I need is one word.
The silver slicked grocery cart squealed incessantly as a smiling father pushed his toddler down a grocery store aisle. He had been browsing with his wife, who was also pushing her own babe occupied cart. They both understandably glanced at each other, and started their experiment. With smiles tugging at both their lips, he broke away, steering the car toward the next aisle. For the kid in his cart, the whizzing walls of Goya beans and busy imagery posed no bother. She had been happy as clam, playing with the coin slot contraption in front of her and watching her parents with wide eyes. Yet as the cart's nose began to turn for the next aisle, a voice immediately ran out, momentarily silencing the nearby families arguing over which Mac and cheese to buy.
"DAAAAAATCH!"
It was a small voice, emanating from the mother's cart, yet noticeably wrought with the pain of severance. It was subsequently echoed by the toddler in the next row over. No, it was not baby talk or toddler mumbo jumbo. It was me, calling for my sister. Datch was the word. We were not child prodigies, forming an entire language of our own at six months old. All we needed was that one word.
The story has been told and retold to me countless times, yet it never fails to lose its charm. My mother or father usually take turns, excitedly retelling the tale with fervor as if unveiling some new invention. At first they thought it was just some random word, as babies tend to mutter slews of jumbles words as their first. Yet that day in the grocery store cemented the fact that to each other, Charlotte and I were Datch - an all encompassing, understood word meaning confident, built in best friend, and a "I've-got-your-back-no-matter-what" attitude.
Seventeen years later, it is amazing to analyze the imprint that she has left on me. Growing up, we truly lead different lives. As I sprinted down soccer fields and galloped in 4H horse shows, my twin nursed her bloody ballet feet and mastered the flute. While I studied asbestos mineral fibers over the summer, she was busy sketching Lou Gehrig-esque buildings. The two of us could not have been closer however. How could we not? We have taken the same amount of steps, traveled to the same places, and inhaled the same quantity of breaths. (Well, save for the head start of five minutes on life she has on me.) Two people who live like us are expectedly close. Yet Charlotte is no unsung hero, and neither am I. We fight as animatedly as two gestating lionesses. You know, like normal sisters.
Frankly, Charlotte has kept me in check. She, more than anyone, witnessed my 'rise' in high school. As I slaved over service projects and student council work, my sister would pointedly interject to offer help and observe quietly. My overextension at times wore me so thin; I did not believe I could continue on. I always gazed at her calmness and timely ways with a proctor's eye. I want to catch everything did, and emulate it. When the procrastination bug first bit me, she was the first to pry it off and whip me back to reality. She has a way of twisting my reality and fusing it with her own, entwining them to teach me a lesson. I have kept an organization book by my side since that day. Sometimes in class, I let it peek out of my binder, in hopes shell see it. Like a dog slyly begging for a treat; I have yearned to show her how much I have improved. Her acceptance and praise will forever hold more esteem in my eyes than any honor or materialistic object. Her influence has shown me how to handle those rough times. I have taken her lead and ran with it. One of the things only she can do is candidly point out my flaws. I still grumble when she discreetly points out that my underwear played a game of peek-a-boo yesterday in eighth period. Yet next time I reach for that improvised basketball in theatre class, I know I will consciously make sure my shirt is tucked in to its fullest extent. A nod in school sometimes is all I need. It is something understood between us.
Hopefully, I have had even a slightest fraction of an imprint on her as she has on me. I idyllically view our relationship as a yin-yang balance, the enzyme and substrate's lock and key model. We balance each other in anticipation for stabilization. Our interactions bind and mold each other, in hopes of functioning better. My biggest in life are not spent solely on extracurriculars or schoolwork. Though I hold big academic aspirations, my heart works toward another goal. Though my sister contains seemingly infinite wisdom at times, her own character is hindered by her apprehension. It is her social skills, when dealing with friends or the convenience clerk at a store that have needed assistance. Though my personal life may seem hectic to me, I have tried to scale it back and reach out a helping hand her way. I have brought her with me to various activity meetings, coached her through phone calls to a multitude of professionals, and have centered a majority on my life on helping her gain entry into the world I was 'a part of'. As I was striving to gain some of her practicality, she strived to get her foot in the door to the social realm. I carefully think of every move I make and every word I say around her in those situations, so I can coax the true Charlotte out of her. This skill has ultimately been transferred onto my leadership style, observed this year especially when conducting Freshman Orientation. I view them as younger versions of her, which helps me bring the same passion to them as I do to her. My eyes are set on constant watch for her improvement, and I could not help but smile when I overheard her as she coolly spoke with the cable repairmen on the phone the other day.
In retrospect, I did not do anything in particular to gain Charlotte, yet I would do anything to keep from losing her. Losing her is looming on inevitable though, as we both gear up for college. The chances of us ending of at the same school are a tossup; we have similar tastes yet starkly contrasting interests. As the kitschy refrigerator magnets say, life is about the journey and appreciating what you have, who you are, and what truly matters. I have Charlotte, I am myself, a character only furthered molded by my sister, and what truly matters is my education and her happiness. IN the end, I know whatever direction my life takes me I know my Datch will be by side. PS Word, Datch is not misspelled. I do not mean 'Ditch", 'Dutch', or 'Watch"; but honestly, I don't expect you to understand.
Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.
My purpose was to show, not tell, but I don't really think I accomplished that.
Plus, I need to cut it down drastically. Thanks so much for any help!
Oh, should I worry about people stealing my essay off of here? I'll delete my post if that's the case! Or can you PM essays to each other?
"Datch"
All my twin and I need is one word.
The silver slicked grocery cart squealed incessantly as a smiling father pushed his toddler down a grocery store aisle. He had been browsing with his wife, who was also pushing her own babe occupied cart. They both understandably glanced at each other, and started their experiment. With smiles tugging at both their lips, he broke away, steering the car toward the next aisle. For the kid in his cart, the whizzing walls of Goya beans and busy imagery posed no bother. She had been happy as clam, playing with the coin slot contraption in front of her and watching her parents with wide eyes. Yet as the cart's nose began to turn for the next aisle, a voice immediately ran out, momentarily silencing the nearby families arguing over which Mac and cheese to buy.
"DAAAAAATCH!"
It was a small voice, emanating from the mother's cart, yet noticeably wrought with the pain of severance. It was subsequently echoed by the toddler in the next row over. No, it was not baby talk or toddler mumbo jumbo. It was me, calling for my sister. Datch was the word. We were not child prodigies, forming an entire language of our own at six months old. All we needed was that one word.
The story has been told and retold to me countless times, yet it never fails to lose its charm. My mother or father usually take turns, excitedly retelling the tale with fervor as if unveiling some new invention. At first they thought it was just some random word, as babies tend to mutter slews of jumbles words as their first. Yet that day in the grocery store cemented the fact that to each other, Charlotte and I were Datch - an all encompassing, understood word meaning confident, built in best friend, and a "I've-got-your-back-no-matter-what" attitude.
Seventeen years later, it is amazing to analyze the imprint that she has left on me. Growing up, we truly lead different lives. As I sprinted down soccer fields and galloped in 4H horse shows, my twin nursed her bloody ballet feet and mastered the flute. While I studied asbestos mineral fibers over the summer, she was busy sketching Lou Gehrig-esque buildings. The two of us could not have been closer however. How could we not? We have taken the same amount of steps, traveled to the same places, and inhaled the same quantity of breaths. (Well, save for the head start of five minutes on life she has on me.) Two people who live like us are expectedly close. Yet Charlotte is no unsung hero, and neither am I. We fight as animatedly as two gestating lionesses. You know, like normal sisters.
Frankly, Charlotte has kept me in check. She, more than anyone, witnessed my 'rise' in high school. As I slaved over service projects and student council work, my sister would pointedly interject to offer help and observe quietly. My overextension at times wore me so thin; I did not believe I could continue on. I always gazed at her calmness and timely ways with a proctor's eye. I want to catch everything did, and emulate it. When the procrastination bug first bit me, she was the first to pry it off and whip me back to reality. She has a way of twisting my reality and fusing it with her own, entwining them to teach me a lesson. I have kept an organization book by my side since that day. Sometimes in class, I let it peek out of my binder, in hopes shell see it. Like a dog slyly begging for a treat; I have yearned to show her how much I have improved. Her acceptance and praise will forever hold more esteem in my eyes than any honor or materialistic object. Her influence has shown me how to handle those rough times. I have taken her lead and ran with it. One of the things only she can do is candidly point out my flaws. I still grumble when she discreetly points out that my underwear played a game of peek-a-boo yesterday in eighth period. Yet next time I reach for that improvised basketball in theatre class, I know I will consciously make sure my shirt is tucked in to its fullest extent. A nod in school sometimes is all I need. It is something understood between us.
Hopefully, I have had even a slightest fraction of an imprint on her as she has on me. I idyllically view our relationship as a yin-yang balance, the enzyme and substrate's lock and key model. We balance each other in anticipation for stabilization. Our interactions bind and mold each other, in hopes of functioning better. My biggest in life are not spent solely on extracurriculars or schoolwork. Though I hold big academic aspirations, my heart works toward another goal. Though my sister contains seemingly infinite wisdom at times, her own character is hindered by her apprehension. It is her social skills, when dealing with friends or the convenience clerk at a store that have needed assistance. Though my personal life may seem hectic to me, I have tried to scale it back and reach out a helping hand her way. I have brought her with me to various activity meetings, coached her through phone calls to a multitude of professionals, and have centered a majority on my life on helping her gain entry into the world I was 'a part of'. As I was striving to gain some of her practicality, she strived to get her foot in the door to the social realm. I carefully think of every move I make and every word I say around her in those situations, so I can coax the true Charlotte out of her. This skill has ultimately been transferred onto my leadership style, observed this year especially when conducting Freshman Orientation. I view them as younger versions of her, which helps me bring the same passion to them as I do to her. My eyes are set on constant watch for her improvement, and I could not help but smile when I overheard her as she coolly spoke with the cable repairmen on the phone the other day.
In retrospect, I did not do anything in particular to gain Charlotte, yet I would do anything to keep from losing her. Losing her is looming on inevitable though, as we both gear up for college. The chances of us ending of at the same school are a tossup; we have similar tastes yet starkly contrasting interests. As the kitschy refrigerator magnets say, life is about the journey and appreciating what you have, who you are, and what truly matters. I have Charlotte, I am myself, a character only furthered molded by my sister, and what truly matters is my education and her happiness. IN the end, I know whatever direction my life takes me I know my Datch will be by side. PS Word, Datch is not misspelled. I do not mean 'Ditch", 'Dutch', or 'Watch"; but honestly, I don't expect you to understand.