So I started off writing this for prompt #1, describe the world around you and how its shaped your aspirations. After reading some others' essays though I'm wondering if I was too specific in my "world", by confining it to one specific place? Please let me know what you think. I'd love advice on content, not only grammar and structure. If you also think the essay does not suit the prompt, which I fear it might, I have no problem changing it. Thank you!
Memories of the Dog Walk
Coming to the dog walk was stepping out of [my town's name] streets, like there was a line designating where suburb ends and scenery begins. Personally I've always preferred healthy green grass, but the desiccated grass here gave such character. Wind hushed as it rolled between the giant hills, which in their golden color emitted a pleasant warmth. Here I spent a summer walking and talking away countless hours with a dear friend who was to depart for a new home across the country soon. This place was where our friendship developed, and it had become a social sanctuary for us. So I decided I would not return here after he left. I knew that my lazy days here were to conclude soon so my every step was long and slow; trying to keep each sight there was to have. With everything I saw I wanted its image stained into the back of my eyes where I could view it for years to come. Redolence of thirsty dirt trails, sting of my own hair whipped onto my cheeks, blue of my friend's eyes, I hoped never to forget. In this part of my fourteen year old world I learned how strongly I wish to keep with me the surroundings of this summer. How aware I must be of my mind's eye as I age in order to preserve my experiences though! Perhaps it would be wise to find out exactly how memories are stored...
At the dog walk I experienced my first helping of curiosity as to the inner workings of the brain. What I had previously understood to be a mess of computer animated neuron connections and cerebral fluids now posed many questions. What is a memory exactly, and how are they physically created? Or can you even call a memory something physical? Here the quest began, for books that could place me at square one of neuroscience. Though I thought myself to be too young to grasp concepts of such complex things as neurology, I found myself understanding and becoming fascinated with my findings. I even answered a few of my questions: neuronal gating, which occurs while we dream at night, plays a critical role in the memory-storage process. I won't ramble, but I found that people deprived of REM sleep have chemical difficulties in converting short-term to long-term memories. So there I had it. I knew what I could do in order to better retain the memories of my time at the dog walk. All I had to do was dream.
My interest in the brain has since taken many turns, from brain activity during other sleep cycles, to how I perceived playing Comptine d'un Autre Été on piano. As I learned more, the curiosity spread downwards to a more general interest in physiology altogether. As I struggled to coordinate two hands playing different melodies on the piano, I'd wonder: I'm telling my fingers to do this. Why aren't they listening!? There came the fuel for research of the nervous system. A basic want to improve myself in everything that I do, from long-term memory storage, to music, to speaking French, truly anything can guide my interest in physiology and neurology to new subjects.
And now, as I write you this lengthy explanation of my passion for the human body, I am extremely excited for my first physiology class which begins tomorrow at 9:05 A.M.
Memories of the Dog Walk
Coming to the dog walk was stepping out of [my town's name] streets, like there was a line designating where suburb ends and scenery begins. Personally I've always preferred healthy green grass, but the desiccated grass here gave such character. Wind hushed as it rolled between the giant hills, which in their golden color emitted a pleasant warmth. Here I spent a summer walking and talking away countless hours with a dear friend who was to depart for a new home across the country soon. This place was where our friendship developed, and it had become a social sanctuary for us. So I decided I would not return here after he left. I knew that my lazy days here were to conclude soon so my every step was long and slow; trying to keep each sight there was to have. With everything I saw I wanted its image stained into the back of my eyes where I could view it for years to come. Redolence of thirsty dirt trails, sting of my own hair whipped onto my cheeks, blue of my friend's eyes, I hoped never to forget. In this part of my fourteen year old world I learned how strongly I wish to keep with me the surroundings of this summer. How aware I must be of my mind's eye as I age in order to preserve my experiences though! Perhaps it would be wise to find out exactly how memories are stored...
At the dog walk I experienced my first helping of curiosity as to the inner workings of the brain. What I had previously understood to be a mess of computer animated neuron connections and cerebral fluids now posed many questions. What is a memory exactly, and how are they physically created? Or can you even call a memory something physical? Here the quest began, for books that could place me at square one of neuroscience. Though I thought myself to be too young to grasp concepts of such complex things as neurology, I found myself understanding and becoming fascinated with my findings. I even answered a few of my questions: neuronal gating, which occurs while we dream at night, plays a critical role in the memory-storage process. I won't ramble, but I found that people deprived of REM sleep have chemical difficulties in converting short-term to long-term memories. So there I had it. I knew what I could do in order to better retain the memories of my time at the dog walk. All I had to do was dream.
My interest in the brain has since taken many turns, from brain activity during other sleep cycles, to how I perceived playing Comptine d'un Autre Été on piano. As I learned more, the curiosity spread downwards to a more general interest in physiology altogether. As I struggled to coordinate two hands playing different melodies on the piano, I'd wonder: I'm telling my fingers to do this. Why aren't they listening!? There came the fuel for research of the nervous system. A basic want to improve myself in everything that I do, from long-term memory storage, to music, to speaking French, truly anything can guide my interest in physiology and neurology to new subjects.
And now, as I write you this lengthy explanation of my passion for the human body, I am extremely excited for my first physiology class which begins tomorrow at 9:05 A.M.
