Any and all criticisms are appreciated. The emotion of my essay shouldn't hold you from scrutinizing it. Also, please mention what you've learned about me after reading this essay. What are the obvious themes? Is this essay UC worthy?
Prompt 1
Describe the world you come from - for example, your family, community or school - and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations.
My father has a booming laugh. My mother is a short Filipina. When I was little, I once asked my father how they'd met. He told me that one day, walking along the shore, he heard the cries of a woman in her sinking canoe and so leapt in to save her. My mother would shoot her deadly glare and my father would explode in amusement. It's memories like these that give me composure, especially since my father's diagnosed cancer.
My childhood was full of such fantasies and nostalgias. Of course, my mother was hardly the damsel in distress. Born on a farm in the Philippines, she worked as a midwife and, later taking night school, became an RN. My fondest memories are of me clinging to her warm, aseptic scrubs watching lectures on VCR. She has an invisible courageousness that I love to draw upon. My father was the music connoisseur. On days he wasn't working the port of entry, I would bounce on his knee, mind and ear open to Bob Dylan, Duke Ellington or The Beach Boys. The rosy music stopped after he shattered his shoulder on the job and was forced into medical retirement.
At first, nothing could suppress my father's enthusiasm. He would laugh and tell the world to marry nurses - you'll get free caretaking for life. But over time my father's injury degenerated into arthritis, scoliosis, and most recently cancer. Each day seems to erode his body and spirit, leaving mine and my mothers to support him. As certain fatherly responsibilities go unfulfilled, we've had to compensate. But I'm often at a loss - I can't even drive yet. Yet I find myself become more self-reliant, drawing less of their courage for fear of exhausting it.
Certain possibilities must be recognized but its doubtful one could ever truly prepare. With certain subtleties I try to show gratitude, but a clean bedroom or flawless report card could never fill the incalculable debt I owe to my parents. Instead, I fall inward upon my studies, acting diligently in school and dabbling in music theory. Whether in mourning or celebration, the occasion when I'll play for him on his tenor saxophone does not matter because the inevitability of the occasion is just that: unchangeable. Instead I work with unremitting effort to play and perform to the best of my abilities with the time that is given, in whatever that might be.
The unsettling peace of our house is worsened by the thought that I'll be leaving it soon. After all she's worked, it pained my mother when she nearly asked me to stay. But I won't fail to launch. She being my inspiration, I reassure her I'll go into medicine, as she hoped, but by applying my aspirations in bioengineering. All the while, my father sits cozily sipping smoothies with coconut milk my mother made. She seems to be the one doing the saving now. When I leave I'll be carrying the goodness they've instilled in my life, carrying a certain courageousness and sense of humor whenever I may go.
Prompt 1
Describe the world you come from - for example, your family, community or school - and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations.
My father has a booming laugh. My mother is a short Filipina. When I was little, I once asked my father how they'd met. He told me that one day, walking along the shore, he heard the cries of a woman in her sinking canoe and so leapt in to save her. My mother would shoot her deadly glare and my father would explode in amusement. It's memories like these that give me composure, especially since my father's diagnosed cancer.
My childhood was full of such fantasies and nostalgias. Of course, my mother was hardly the damsel in distress. Born on a farm in the Philippines, she worked as a midwife and, later taking night school, became an RN. My fondest memories are of me clinging to her warm, aseptic scrubs watching lectures on VCR. She has an invisible courageousness that I love to draw upon. My father was the music connoisseur. On days he wasn't working the port of entry, I would bounce on his knee, mind and ear open to Bob Dylan, Duke Ellington or The Beach Boys. The rosy music stopped after he shattered his shoulder on the job and was forced into medical retirement.
At first, nothing could suppress my father's enthusiasm. He would laugh and tell the world to marry nurses - you'll get free caretaking for life. But over time my father's injury degenerated into arthritis, scoliosis, and most recently cancer. Each day seems to erode his body and spirit, leaving mine and my mothers to support him. As certain fatherly responsibilities go unfulfilled, we've had to compensate. But I'm often at a loss - I can't even drive yet. Yet I find myself become more self-reliant, drawing less of their courage for fear of exhausting it.
Certain possibilities must be recognized but its doubtful one could ever truly prepare. With certain subtleties I try to show gratitude, but a clean bedroom or flawless report card could never fill the incalculable debt I owe to my parents. Instead, I fall inward upon my studies, acting diligently in school and dabbling in music theory. Whether in mourning or celebration, the occasion when I'll play for him on his tenor saxophone does not matter because the inevitability of the occasion is just that: unchangeable. Instead I work with unremitting effort to play and perform to the best of my abilities with the time that is given, in whatever that might be.
The unsettling peace of our house is worsened by the thought that I'll be leaving it soon. After all she's worked, it pained my mother when she nearly asked me to stay. But I won't fail to launch. She being my inspiration, I reassure her I'll go into medicine, as she hoped, but by applying my aspirations in bioengineering. All the while, my father sits cozily sipping smoothies with coconut milk my mother made. She seems to be the one doing the saving now. When I leave I'll be carrying the goodness they've instilled in my life, carrying a certain courageousness and sense of humor whenever I may go.