Prompt 1 :Intellectual Vitality: I wrote about something that I had passion for that was somewhat intellectual, does it make the cut?
Earwax. I think it comes from Mom's side of the family. At least once a month, we have a family gathering of four in the kitchen, one holding the flashlight, another holding the tissue, and Dad always wielding the curette. Together, we would work on an ear, and then another, removing the gooey oily paste from within. I hated the feeling of the curette sliding into my ear and probing around accompanied by Dad's commands of, "bring the light a little more to the left!" What I abhorred more was the stuffy feeling of the earwax-plugged ear, which muffled sounds and caused great discomfort. Once, I had such a buildup of earwax that I had to visit an Otolaryngologist who used a special suction tool to suck out the huge glob of brown paste that caused me such great pain.
Thus, in order to free my family and myself from these troubles, I set out to do some research on this unsightly topic. Through the course of three months, in my spare time I combed library shelves, searched websites, and tried various products. I now possess a myriad of solutions for my cerumen (the official name for earwax) problems ranging from ear syringing to a costly suction machine that I had bought online with my allowance. Considering these an investment, I also collected and tried many brands of earwax removal liquids, some purchased online, and others at drug stores. In my room, a diagram of the ear and its parts hung above my bed, outlined with my writing. My friends often teased me about my ear obsession and sent me videos of cerumen removals. I learned that cerumen was only produced in the outer part of the ear, that cerumen impaction, what I probably had, was a result of both my probing in my ear with objects, and the narrowness of my ear canal. I also found out the best way to prevent it, two drops of baby oil a day for best results. Thus, the mystery of why I often had cerumen buildup and how to address it was solved, and the family meetings in the kitchen are now nonexistent.
Prompt 2: Letter to roommate
Dear Roomie~
Let's establish this first: I have severe Scoleciphiobia, or fear of worms. Any picture or resemblance will send me into extreme hysteria, so hopefully you do not plan to bring a worm into the premises of our dorm.
When a worm is not in sight, which is usually, I have a very agreeable personality, and the more time I usually spend with a person, the better I like them. I am a shade of sunset purple, made from the mixing of bland Payne's gray and vibrant alizarin crimson golden. I have many boring, aspects about myself that I wish were more interesting, such as my usual, more passive personality. However, I also have an audacious side, ready to propose or perform strange dares as long as no rules are broken. I hope that you will not feel embarrassed to be seen with me when I ask McDonald's if they will refill my large French fries, or sing loudly and off tune with the radio. At first, I may seem cold or detached, but once I get to know you, I am positive that I will talk so much you will tell me to shut up. However, I am also a good listener, so you can also tell me your thoughts and ask for advice.
In all honesty, I will admit that I have some very eccentric habits. I hope you will not care if I take long hot showers that will fog up the bathroom mirrors, or that I read in the bathroom when I'm trying to finish my business. Sleeping and painting are my ultimate passions, so if I am not lying on bed, I am scouring my photo albums for inspirations for my next painting. Despite having such intense Scoleciphiobia, I have not fear of insects or other vermin such as spiders or cockroaches. Therefore, I am the useful person to summon if you need so simple pest extermination in our room.
Please be patient with my strange fear and eccentric habits, and I hope that we will be able to accomplish, to our full potential, what we have come to Stanford to do and enjoy ourselves while we are at it!
Prompt 3: What matters and why?
As I flip through the family photo album from the year of 1998, my eyes fall on the image of my first photographed kiss. There in the Stanford quad, sitting beneath the arches next to a Grecian pillar are two chubby little girls engaged in a full mouth-to-mouth smooch. One is clutching a piece of candy tightly in her two hands while the other, dressed in all white, is hugging her tightly. They represent my sister and me many years ago, long before our opposite personalities ran together like oil and water. The tower, so bold and high, as if foreshadowing the pinnacle of our present wall of hostilities, stands out behind us, ornamenting the sky
Time, so precious and so hard to come by is what is the most important to me. No one realizes that time has been wasted, or how precious it can be, until it is already lost and gone forever. The hundreds of hours I had spent with my sister scouring and exploring Stanford in my childhood are now just faint memories, only refreshed by the turning of the dust-filled pages of the albums. The many images of our innocent smiles and sisterly displays of love, all with the beautiful background of the Stanford campus behind us, make me wonder where all the time has gone.
I do not want to waste my time with anyone or in doing anything, like I did with my sister in these past years. The love so vibrant in the photographs is no longer present, and the sands of time have transformed the cherub-like girls into short-tempered young women, intent on making each other miserable. How much time did we whittle away with our meaningless arguments, when instead we could have been building each other up? Although it may be too late to salvage our relationship, maybe standing underneath those Stanford pillars again, holding hands will turn us back to that time of innocence, and slightly rekindle that love we once had for each other.
