Here is my Common Application Essay on a topic of my choice. All advice would be much appreciated. Thanks!
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
I could still hear that question ringing in the back of my head when I moved into my dorm room at the UNC School of the Arts. I was 14 years old, a complacent teenager who was eagerly looking forward to going to school far from parental supervision. I was excited to lead this new life, but I had a great obstacle to overcome: myself. How easy is it for a lively young man to lose control when his parents are hundreds of miles away from him? Seeing what has happened to my classmates, the answer is: very easy. Luckily for me, I embraced help when it arrived.
As a freshman, I was required to take "Wellness," and, as the name implies, the class was unbearably tedious-the teacher's tendency to drone coined the new course name: "Nap Time." The unpopular reputation of Nap Time was, however, going to change forever with a new instructor. His name was Mr. Wilson.
We were in class the usual 10 minutes early-Students were slouched in all shapes and positions; some were already dangerously close to drooling. Here I was, in a room full of lethargic zombies. My brain fluttered into another dimension and I-
BANG! The door shuddered. "Hello class, my name is Mr. Wilson, and I'm here to teach you how to NOT be stupid with your time."
All heads went up in the room, accompanied by the sounds of people wiping up their slobber. At the front of the classroom, we saw a young, confident man brimming with a cheesy grin. Nap Time became Wellness once again.
"You've got your task here; it's like a cup of milk. You leave it out in the air, and it'll mold and rot. It'll make you feel bad. If you refrigerate it, it'll taste stale, and make you feel even worse. Many times, it's better to just drink that damn thing and get it over with."
Drink that damn thing and get it over with. The crude phrase left a surprisingly profound mark on my work ethic. My great obstacle gradually crumbled; as hard as it was abandoning those nights staying up and watching movies, I had to suppress all such desires. It was time for me to drink my milk, to achieve great things, and I was going to love every minute of it.
Since then, I have attained that delicate balance between work and play. I have learned that persistence and discipline can take me to unprecedented heights, and having already lived in an independent environment for four years, college will be a familiar setting. I know what is expected of me, and I realize that the next few years will be my chance to achieve at an even higher level, to drink even more milk, and if I am to be sure of anything, it is this: I love to drink milk. Literally.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
I could still hear that question ringing in the back of my head when I moved into my dorm room at the UNC School of the Arts. I was 14 years old, a complacent teenager who was eagerly looking forward to going to school far from parental supervision. I was excited to lead this new life, but I had a great obstacle to overcome: myself. How easy is it for a lively young man to lose control when his parents are hundreds of miles away from him? Seeing what has happened to my classmates, the answer is: very easy. Luckily for me, I embraced help when it arrived.
As a freshman, I was required to take "Wellness," and, as the name implies, the class was unbearably tedious-the teacher's tendency to drone coined the new course name: "Nap Time." The unpopular reputation of Nap Time was, however, going to change forever with a new instructor. His name was Mr. Wilson.
We were in class the usual 10 minutes early-Students were slouched in all shapes and positions; some were already dangerously close to drooling. Here I was, in a room full of lethargic zombies. My brain fluttered into another dimension and I-
BANG! The door shuddered. "Hello class, my name is Mr. Wilson, and I'm here to teach you how to NOT be stupid with your time."
All heads went up in the room, accompanied by the sounds of people wiping up their slobber. At the front of the classroom, we saw a young, confident man brimming with a cheesy grin. Nap Time became Wellness once again.
"You've got your task here; it's like a cup of milk. You leave it out in the air, and it'll mold and rot. It'll make you feel bad. If you refrigerate it, it'll taste stale, and make you feel even worse. Many times, it's better to just drink that damn thing and get it over with."
Drink that damn thing and get it over with. The crude phrase left a surprisingly profound mark on my work ethic. My great obstacle gradually crumbled; as hard as it was abandoning those nights staying up and watching movies, I had to suppress all such desires. It was time for me to drink my milk, to achieve great things, and I was going to love every minute of it.
Since then, I have attained that delicate balance between work and play. I have learned that persistence and discipline can take me to unprecedented heights, and having already lived in an independent environment for four years, college will be a familiar setting. I know what is expected of me, and I realize that the next few years will be my chance to achieve at an even higher level, to drink even more milk, and if I am to be sure of anything, it is this: I love to drink milk. Literally.