Hey, this is my personal statement and it is version 2. And, as I am a chinese, I described the story including some Chinese features and tradition. Hope that you will like it.
Thanks!
Jasmine
White smoke rose in the grey early morning, and cock's crows burst the serenity. Awaking came first, she got the slippers after, then walked furtively to the desk. Wu sat before the old redwood desk, putting on few drops of the jasmine perfume as usual.
Wu occupied a large portion of my childhood. She took care of me since I had memory. However, I had never viewed her as granny since her dark winkled skin, hand-me-down clothes and frugal way hardly conformed to this home. She was a maid; I recognized that even though small. Our relationship became worse as I grew up. Wu loved to watch me when I was studying. "Yaoyao, study hard...study hard..." She repeated it again and again as if she expected me to realize her dream. Her obvious yearning sight made me especially uncomfortable. Her moan made me feel stressful and guilty.
Then everything changed. I still clearly remembered it was a dawn; sunlight glazed everything with a serene shading yellow. I accidentally hit the corner of desk when I played hide-and-seek. With a crash, the glass bottle broke. It was Wu's Jasmine perfume. I was regretful and a little afraid at first. But such feelings soon dispersed. How angry can a maid be?
After she found the broken bottle, she was so angry that her face turned red. She stretched her arm, prepared to slap me. Surprisingly, the slap finally became tears bursting out of her eyes. She rushed out without saying anything. How angry can a maid be?
Buying breakfast, tidying up the home, washing my clothes, she did these day by day, year by year but she never talked about the Jasmine perfume. I began to see "Wu" through different eyes and to call her aunt showing the respect she deserved.
Once, I saw her cry on the phone but she continued to wash clothes with trembling shoulder and sniffles. That night she turned her back and hid her face, I hugged her tightly. She said with trembling sound that: "I can't afford the study fee for my children." No sooner, she went back home for her children.
In those days, her words often lingered in my mind. "Study hard," this is her dream. She want to change her fate but she never dare to think about it. Therefore, she put her hopes on others who have advanced condition. I used to complain too much. Yes, study sometimes is exhausted. But, the chance to be tired and to sweat for my dream is so real, so precious. Whenever I devote into bustle and hustle, I can feel the power, feel like punching. I like the way to my dream. It is ragged but also renders me maturity and understanding. She is a dim yellow light burst out the silent night, company me in those midnight I write swiftly affront of desk. She deserves compensation beyond money and sympathy-----respect. Utilizing all the advance in life is the best way to respect her to me.
Slight Jasmine aromas remind me of her. A small and insignificant flower is the jasmine, but it has an unforgettable aroma---the smell of dream.
BTW, I am going to write the supplement of CMC which is:
Choose someone, fictional or nonfictional, historical or contemporary, whom you consider to be a leader. Suppose you are this person's primary advisor. How would you advise this person and why?
I've got an idea but I am wondering if it is too risky.
I think the leader in my view is Jack in the film Titanic.
Because I think a leader should be one leads another person to approve one's way and willing to follow it instead of ordering others. That is lead-er instead of merely a boss.
Thanks!
Jasmine
White smoke rose in the grey early morning, and cock's crows burst the serenity. Awaking came first, she got the slippers after, then walked furtively to the desk. Wu sat before the old redwood desk, putting on few drops of the jasmine perfume as usual.
Wu occupied a large portion of my childhood. She took care of me since I had memory. However, I had never viewed her as granny since her dark winkled skin, hand-me-down clothes and frugal way hardly conformed to this home. She was a maid; I recognized that even though small. Our relationship became worse as I grew up. Wu loved to watch me when I was studying. "Yaoyao, study hard...study hard..." She repeated it again and again as if she expected me to realize her dream. Her obvious yearning sight made me especially uncomfortable. Her moan made me feel stressful and guilty.
Then everything changed. I still clearly remembered it was a dawn; sunlight glazed everything with a serene shading yellow. I accidentally hit the corner of desk when I played hide-and-seek. With a crash, the glass bottle broke. It was Wu's Jasmine perfume. I was regretful and a little afraid at first. But such feelings soon dispersed. How angry can a maid be?
After she found the broken bottle, she was so angry that her face turned red. She stretched her arm, prepared to slap me. Surprisingly, the slap finally became tears bursting out of her eyes. She rushed out without saying anything. How angry can a maid be?
Buying breakfast, tidying up the home, washing my clothes, she did these day by day, year by year but she never talked about the Jasmine perfume. I began to see "Wu" through different eyes and to call her aunt showing the respect she deserved.
Once, I saw her cry on the phone but she continued to wash clothes with trembling shoulder and sniffles. That night she turned her back and hid her face, I hugged her tightly. She said with trembling sound that: "I can't afford the study fee for my children." No sooner, she went back home for her children.
In those days, her words often lingered in my mind. "Study hard," this is her dream. She want to change her fate but she never dare to think about it. Therefore, she put her hopes on others who have advanced condition. I used to complain too much. Yes, study sometimes is exhausted. But, the chance to be tired and to sweat for my dream is so real, so precious. Whenever I devote into bustle and hustle, I can feel the power, feel like punching. I like the way to my dream. It is ragged but also renders me maturity and understanding. She is a dim yellow light burst out the silent night, company me in those midnight I write swiftly affront of desk. She deserves compensation beyond money and sympathy-----respect. Utilizing all the advance in life is the best way to respect her to me.
Slight Jasmine aromas remind me of her. A small and insignificant flower is the jasmine, but it has an unforgettable aroma---the smell of dream.
BTW, I am going to write the supplement of CMC which is:
Choose someone, fictional or nonfictional, historical or contemporary, whom you consider to be a leader. Suppose you are this person's primary advisor. How would you advise this person and why?
I've got an idea but I am wondering if it is too risky.
I think the leader in my view is Jack in the film Titanic.
Because I think a leader should be one leads another person to approve one's way and willing to follow it instead of ordering others. That is lead-er instead of merely a boss.