Prompt : Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
Please look for any grammatical errors and weird phrases. I will thankfully accept any criticism :)
When I was ten, I went to an outdoor concert with my parents. Under the summer night sky, the rhythm of percussions wafted on fresh breeze and I swayed with joy. However, as the order of traditional music performance came, I, an energetic and lively tomboy, tried to leave the seats. All of a sudden, I was caught by a unique sound I never heard of, and thrilled by the exquisite sound that ranged from joy to melancholy. It was the fateful night that I met my lifelong friend, the Korean fiddle, Haegeum.
I learned from mom, who was passionate in experiencing various cultures, that it is a vertical fiddle with two silk strings and playing it is very difficult so that many people give up. Since I usually tried everything I was interested in, I decided to learn the haegeum dreaming of playing it like the musician. On the day of my first lesson, however, I could not even hold the bow in the right position. Whenever I practiced the haegeum, my brother put his hands over ears saying and said to stop the noise. In fact, the ugly squeaking sounds blasting from the strings were also painful for me.
On August 2010, when I came to the USA, I felt like a beginner of the haegeum. Even though I was excited with many expectation of the new life, the new school life was totally chaotic because of many difficulties and complicated situation. English was simply buzzes that passed through my brain as fragmentary knowledge, and the textbooks were just printouts of black letters and white paper like the complicated haegeum music sheet. As I once regretted choose the haegeum, I sometimes blamed myself to study abroad while others are busy with preparation to apply college. As the haegeum required more efforts to produce beautiful sounds and right tune, compared to the other instruments that make sound by simple touch, I had to work harder to catch up my friends who speaks English as their first language. Despite this, it awoke an indomitable spirit within me. I poured relentless energy and time to raise my level where the confusion and frustration became nothing more than a distant, fading memory.
Now calluses have formed on my right hand by grabbing pens and on my left hand by practicing the haegeum. I reached a minimum level that I make sounds that can be called music and perform in front of the others. Still when I perform solo, I become nervous, I could enjoy the pleasure of collaborating with other instruments like cello. Also when I lead the youth Korean traditional performance team, Haegeum Sarang, I feel proud and responsible. Even though I am not like the maestro at that summer night concert, when I see the veterans dropping tears, and crowded Salvation Army Kettling place during performance, I feel the sense of accomplishment. As I become college student and broaden perspective, I hope the boundary of performance to be widened.
Please look for any grammatical errors and weird phrases. I will thankfully accept any criticism :)
When I was ten, I went to an outdoor concert with my parents. Under the summer night sky, the rhythm of percussions wafted on fresh breeze and I swayed with joy. However, as the order of traditional music performance came, I, an energetic and lively tomboy, tried to leave the seats. All of a sudden, I was caught by a unique sound I never heard of, and thrilled by the exquisite sound that ranged from joy to melancholy. It was the fateful night that I met my lifelong friend, the Korean fiddle, Haegeum.
I learned from mom, who was passionate in experiencing various cultures, that it is a vertical fiddle with two silk strings and playing it is very difficult so that many people give up. Since I usually tried everything I was interested in, I decided to learn the haegeum dreaming of playing it like the musician. On the day of my first lesson, however, I could not even hold the bow in the right position. Whenever I practiced the haegeum, my brother put his hands over ears saying and said to stop the noise. In fact, the ugly squeaking sounds blasting from the strings were also painful for me.
On August 2010, when I came to the USA, I felt like a beginner of the haegeum. Even though I was excited with many expectation of the new life, the new school life was totally chaotic because of many difficulties and complicated situation. English was simply buzzes that passed through my brain as fragmentary knowledge, and the textbooks were just printouts of black letters and white paper like the complicated haegeum music sheet. As I once regretted choose the haegeum, I sometimes blamed myself to study abroad while others are busy with preparation to apply college. As the haegeum required more efforts to produce beautiful sounds and right tune, compared to the other instruments that make sound by simple touch, I had to work harder to catch up my friends who speaks English as their first language. Despite this, it awoke an indomitable spirit within me. I poured relentless energy and time to raise my level where the confusion and frustration became nothing more than a distant, fading memory.
Now calluses have formed on my right hand by grabbing pens and on my left hand by practicing the haegeum. I reached a minimum level that I make sounds that can be called music and perform in front of the others. Still when I perform solo, I become nervous, I could enjoy the pleasure of collaborating with other instruments like cello. Also when I lead the youth Korean traditional performance team, Haegeum Sarang, I feel proud and responsible. Even though I am not like the maestro at that summer night concert, when I see the veterans dropping tears, and crowded Salvation Army Kettling place during performance, I feel the sense of accomplishment. As I become college student and broaden perspective, I hope the boundary of performance to be widened.