Hi! This is my personal statement for the supplementary required for USC Cinematic application. Please help me edit this essay, thank you.
And if you're curious about my portfolio, here it is: daiaenna.weebly.com
"Here! Take it!" I shoved a piece of paper onto a boy's arm. He responded with a quizzical look. I blushed. "It's Spider-Man... I drew it for you," I stammered attempting to avoid his eyes. "Oh, okay, but no thanks. I don't like it," the boy pushed the paper back into my tiring hands that have been crumpled into a little ball for some time. The boy walked away and joined his friends who shoved him playfully in the arm, teasing him about me. I stood there, at the spot where he left me, paralyzed from head to toe except for my face, which grew hot and red. Tears trickled down my cheeks and I ran away to the girl's restroom.
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It's prohibitively long to read. By the halfway mark I was ready to give up; and that's not a good thing because I love your title and the fact it rhymes (though I'd shorten it, if I were you; it would make it more cryptic, and build suspense a little). I don't know what your word limit is, but if you don't have one, I would definitely shorten/get rid of things like:
"I remember that day like it was yesterday... cold wooden floor chilled by Californian winter, and settled on the eastern side of the knee-high table made out of thermosetting plastic painted to look like wood."
"Two years later, I found myself at a new city with my mother and my 1-year-old sister... The school was 99.8% Latino, as my research stated, and I am Asian, consisting of only less than a 0.01%."
Your ending is really strong, and you seem like an impressive candidate!
Good luck!
I had someone edit my essay.. and it looks like this now (:
"Here! Take it!" I thrust a piece of paper into his arms. He responded with a quizzical look. I blushed. "It's Spider-Man... I drew it for you," I stammered, attempting to avoid his eyes. "Oh, okay, but no thanks. I don't like it." The boy pushed the paper back into my tense fingers, which had been crumpled into a little ball for some time. The boy walked away and joined his friends who shoved him playfully in by the arm, teasing him about me. I stood there, frozen in the spot where he left me, paralyzed from the feet up, all except for my face, which grew hot and red. Tears trickled down my cheeks, and I ran to the girl's restroom.
I remember that day like it was yesterday. I was twelve years old, and was deeply infatuated with the biggest jerk I have ever met. Because of him, I was introduced to the joy of drawing. The night before my most embarrassing day in middle school, I had locked myself in my room, with a Spider-Man comic book, a piece of copy paper, and a pencil and eraser. I was dressed comfortably: wearing tube socks, a warm, fuzzy sweater, and a pair of sweatpants. I placed myself on the cold wooden floor. I grabbed my pencil, and flipped through the Spider-Man comic book. I sat there like a child cradling a new toy on Christmas Eve morning, excited to learn the features and capabilities of this new toy. Just as my legs were beginning to get a little numb, I finally found the Spider-Man drawing: Spidey clinging to Green Goblin's back, fighting to throw him from his glider, while Green Goblin struggled to activate a pumpkin bomb he held above their heads. Immediately, I grabbed my pencil. I scanned the drawing, measured the space between each character and the angle of the objects in the drawing with my eyes. Looking back and forth from my reference to the copy paper, I sat there, quickly drawing in little lines that eventually transformed into a near-perfect replica of the original comic book art. It had been a little over three hours by the time I completed my drawing, but there was not a moment I didn't enjoy.
Though the joy I felt from drawing was temporary, as the boy broke my heart the following day, I had learned of something new and interestingly fun to do. I learned that I liked to draw, and enjoyed art immensely. So, after hours of tears flooded my face, I would discover many new ways to express myself artistically.
Two years later, I found myself at in a new city with my mother and my one year old sister, as an impoverished family with little money. Though I didn't mind my mom being broke, I did mind the fact that I would be starting my first year as a high school student at South Gate High School. The school was 99.8% Latino, according to my research. My Asian ethnicity was represented by only 0.01% of the school's population. Though, strangely, I was able to slip into the culture of my new school quite easily. Maybe it was partially due to my habit of sketching in my class notes: sequential drawings of story plots, character designs, people in class, or random objects. My fellow classmates would peer over my shoulder, examine my doodles, and excitedly ask me to draw their portraits. I would often happily comply.
I continued to draw, but did not know what I wanted to do with my interest in art until the day I watched Treasure Planet, a two-dimensional animated film mixed with new three-dimensional technologies that flooded my mind with a passion and magnificent joy that still last until this day. The fluidity of each character's movements, the fantastic colors, the awesome design of the ships, and many more eye-opening characteristics all seemed almost beyond human creation. Thus, I was determined to transform my ordinary self into an animator.
Beginning my freshman year, I enrolled myself in art classes at the local community college. However, the first day, a tinge of regret swirled within my mind as I traced my eyes along the printout of my schedule I held tightly while waiting outside of my new class. I wondered, "I'm a freshman in high school, enrolled in a college class. What am I doing here?" I felt nervous. But I was determined to become an animator, so I entered the classroom.
Several weeks passed, and the gap between my dream of becoming an animator and my not-as-ordinary-anymore self narrowed. My skills developed rapidly as I learned many technical aspects of drawing. I was easily one of the best students in class, and presented thoughtfully composed and well-executed drawings, which received positive comments from both teachers and students. Then as I improved my draftsmanship, I developed a new vision which changed the way I viewed my surroundings. Whenever I set sight upon a collection of objects, I would analyze its composition, and deem whether it could be transformed into an artwork. Is this the vision an animator has? Probably, but I don't mind whether or not this is the type of vision an animator has; instead, I will use this vision to encourage myself to become an even more skilled artist towards my dream of becoming an animator.
After about two semesters of my college art classes, East Los Angeles College [Art?] Department Chairperson, Jim Uyekawa, advised that I take initiative for becoming a better artist by applying to Saturday art programs for high school students and summer art programs. I took his advice and applied. I received merit-based scholarships for both programs and was able to gain real experience as an art student. There, I took classes relating to animation. I also received advice from professional working artists on their approach to the practice of their craft which helped me gain valuable perspective into the art industry. I no longer viewed art as merely a hobby, but as a serious practice: potentially, a career.
Ever since the discovery of my passion for animation and my love of art, I have gotten a taste of what it would be like to study at prestigious art schools, delved further into learning about my passion, and developed a new vision as an artist.
The experiences accumulated during my 17 years have geared me to develop my individuality, and have helped to shape my identity, my dreams, and my aspirations. That is why to be a part of the University of Southern California to study Animation will help develop critical qualities in me as a leader and a team player to realizing my dream as an animator.
