The prompt is essentially to tell them something they don't know about you. Please critique in terms of sentence structure, organization, grammatical errors and the likes. The last paragraph needs serious help, so any preposed rewrites would be greatly appreciated. Thank you!
I blame my ineptitude as a handyman on my mother, who decided to follow the unconventional route and teach me basic home repairs as a child. Learning to change a tire was a prerequisite to getting my license and if I came running that the toilet was clogged, my mother would sigh in disappointment, wondering where she had gone wrong. I would then be forced to observe, in the hope that osmosis would occur, as she skillfully waved her hands in an abracadabra fashion and the problem magically resolved itself.
The first room we painted was electric blue. When the sun would shine on the walls in the early morning, the reflection glowed and an ethereal mist would settle, making the gold string hanging from the ceiling fan sparkle like a cluster of diamonds. Painting became a biannual event and as the years progressed, my house metamorphosed from blanched white walls to beautiful rooms that captivated me with their resplendent charm.
Hiring a contractor to redo our hardwood floors was completely unnecessary. We lugged boxes of paneled flooring home from Sam's Clubs, laid down the insulation layer and started hammering. It was a reprieve from the scorching summer heat as I measured and calculated, typing numbers into my calculator faster than my mother could saw the panels down to size. The floor became a life-sized puzzle of ingenuity and cunning skill as I manipulated the boards and calculated and recalculated, as I measured right angles and 60° angles and crossed out my work and restarted.
I don't pretend to be a professional. There are gaps in the floor and places where the panels have begun to buckle. But this floor is my sanctuary. It is the product of my mind doing what I love most: configuring and constructing, building and repairing. I have lost all apprehension for the conglomeration of home improvement projects that now define my house because I have learned to incorporate my passion for science and physics into the small opportunities I find before me.
I want to be a part of the journey in explaining how this unfathomable universe can be fused with delicate instruments, so we can begin to comprehend the science behind its beauty. The formulas for calculus and physics may be the same ones I use on my hardwood floor, but I hope to put those formulas to use beyond my floor so I can help build the foundation of medical research and life-saving treatment.
I blame my ineptitude as a handyman on my mother, who decided to follow the unconventional route and teach me basic home repairs as a child. Learning to change a tire was a prerequisite to getting my license and if I came running that the toilet was clogged, my mother would sigh in disappointment, wondering where she had gone wrong. I would then be forced to observe, in the hope that osmosis would occur, as she skillfully waved her hands in an abracadabra fashion and the problem magically resolved itself.
The first room we painted was electric blue. When the sun would shine on the walls in the early morning, the reflection glowed and an ethereal mist would settle, making the gold string hanging from the ceiling fan sparkle like a cluster of diamonds. Painting became a biannual event and as the years progressed, my house metamorphosed from blanched white walls to beautiful rooms that captivated me with their resplendent charm.
Hiring a contractor to redo our hardwood floors was completely unnecessary. We lugged boxes of paneled flooring home from Sam's Clubs, laid down the insulation layer and started hammering. It was a reprieve from the scorching summer heat as I measured and calculated, typing numbers into my calculator faster than my mother could saw the panels down to size. The floor became a life-sized puzzle of ingenuity and cunning skill as I manipulated the boards and calculated and recalculated, as I measured right angles and 60° angles and crossed out my work and restarted.
I don't pretend to be a professional. There are gaps in the floor and places where the panels have begun to buckle. But this floor is my sanctuary. It is the product of my mind doing what I love most: configuring and constructing, building and repairing. I have lost all apprehension for the conglomeration of home improvement projects that now define my house because I have learned to incorporate my passion for science and physics into the small opportunities I find before me.
I want to be a part of the journey in explaining how this unfathomable universe can be fused with delicate instruments, so we can begin to comprehend the science behind its beauty. The formulas for calculus and physics may be the same ones I use on my hardwood floor, but I hope to put those formulas to use beyond my floor so I can help build the foundation of medical research and life-saving treatment.