This is my draft of essay, I would really appreciate any feedback and critique. It may contain numerous grammatical errors.
I'll read your essays and give you necessary advice as reciprocation.
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
Stage for me
I gasped when suddenly the melody of music went ugly. Unable to play any longer and terrified, I threw a quick glance at the audience. They were grimacing and laughing at me. Too embarrassed to even apologize for my clumsy mistake, I absconded from the stage after taking a hasty bow.
Finally, I woke up from the gruesome nightmare, panting, drenched with sweat all over my back. Playing classical guitar has always been my passion, an intimacy I have maintained for a long period, followed by my academic pursuits. However, having ruined my first contest few years ago, which engraved on me a kind of everlasting trauma thereafter, a painful experience that made me an inward person who detested being in the limelight, I almost always made a cautious decline whenever suggested to participate in a music contest or a concert. Nonetheless, my seemingly eternal withdrawal halted when the music teacher wrote my name on the school bulletin board as one of the soloists for the inaugural fund-raising concert, which is designed to channel the funds to support the restoration of a school devastated by Sichuan Earthquake.
Elected as a solo guitarist and my personal information already being sent to Hong Kong and Beijing to make pamphlets, I had no choice but to practice one of the most famous classical guitar pieces: 'Recuerdos de Alhambra' with Frank, my 20-year-old Yamaha guitar. I practiced this piece over and over again, at least five times a day, all under the eyes of my brother and father, encouraging me forwards. Whenever I made a minor mistake, my face would turn pale, and I was seized by misery. Nevertheless, without giving up halfway, I tried my best to produce the best sound in the limited time given. The day had finally arrived, and I made my unnerving expedition to Qingdao with other members of the orchestra and soloists. I had been reduced to a timid juvenile with fluctuating emotions.
In the concert hall, feeling my heartbeat running intensely quickly, I gripped my fists tightly. When I made my last rehearsal prior to the main recital, the hideous fear controlling my mind ripened into an even bigger monster. However, I ventured to face it, attempting to enjoy the moment that would probably never come later again in my future. Although I thought myself to be well-prepared for the recital, when it was finally my turn to be on stage in front of such a vast audience, all my senses reacted vigorously, so much that I almost threw up on the glistening wooden floor. The roaring claps and dazzling spotlight offered to the performers were more of a strain for me than a fervid reception.
When one of the stage assistants gave me the cue at last, I dashed onto the stage with my cherished guitar, silently yet confidently, trying not to make any offensive noise. The sonorous cheer greeted me. I seated myself, cleared my throat, and commenced a four-minute performance that seemed to last an eternity. I could feel my fingers trembling with tension. It was so quiet. When I closed my eyes softly, nothing could I hear except the melody coming out from the musical instrument I was handling. My rough hand glided from place to place on the neck of the guitar. I was engulfed solely into the moment. The threatening long-term terror had vanished from my brain within a minute, and I could find myself completely enthralled in the rendition of my own. I was proud of myself for doing something meaningful, with so many people watching me.
When I gently thrummed on the last note of the music, the serene hall was again filled with listeners, who sent me a burst of applause that pierced through the bubble of tranquility. A gushing rapture possessed me instantaneously, and I felt I had matured into a more evolved persona. I learned to face fear and to conquer shyness. Getting off the stage, I saw my music teacher smiling at me, with his thumb raised as a sign of satisfaction. A kaleidoscopic panorama of thoughts passed onto me when I descended from the stage. At the end of the continuous days of fear, pressure, and anxiety, I found accomplishment.
Merely playing the guitar had presented me with an invaluable lesson. I reproached myself for avoiding such performances for such a long time, and for not having enough courage to take a small step forward. My heart was still racing, but the inexpressible sentiment, a feeling that I had finally made significant progress, which I procrastinated to achieve for nearly a decade, bestowed utmost bliss on me. I hurried into the foyer, exhaled deeply, and phoned my father, who was the person most anxious about whether or not my performance went successfully. As soon as a quiet beep signaled that the line had been connected, not surprisingly, he promptly inquired about the recital. With a small smile on my face, I replied: "perfect, not because I did it without any errors, but because I made a vital breakthrough."
I'll read your essays and give you necessary advice as reciprocation.
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
Stage for me
I gasped when suddenly the melody of music went ugly. Unable to play any longer and terrified, I threw a quick glance at the audience. They were grimacing and laughing at me. Too embarrassed to even apologize for my clumsy mistake, I absconded from the stage after taking a hasty bow.
Finally, I woke up from the gruesome nightmare, panting, drenched with sweat all over my back. Playing classical guitar has always been my passion, an intimacy I have maintained for a long period, followed by my academic pursuits. However, having ruined my first contest few years ago, which engraved on me a kind of everlasting trauma thereafter, a painful experience that made me an inward person who detested being in the limelight, I almost always made a cautious decline whenever suggested to participate in a music contest or a concert. Nonetheless, my seemingly eternal withdrawal halted when the music teacher wrote my name on the school bulletin board as one of the soloists for the inaugural fund-raising concert, which is designed to channel the funds to support the restoration of a school devastated by Sichuan Earthquake.
Elected as a solo guitarist and my personal information already being sent to Hong Kong and Beijing to make pamphlets, I had no choice but to practice one of the most famous classical guitar pieces: 'Recuerdos de Alhambra' with Frank, my 20-year-old Yamaha guitar. I practiced this piece over and over again, at least five times a day, all under the eyes of my brother and father, encouraging me forwards. Whenever I made a minor mistake, my face would turn pale, and I was seized by misery. Nevertheless, without giving up halfway, I tried my best to produce the best sound in the limited time given. The day had finally arrived, and I made my unnerving expedition to Qingdao with other members of the orchestra and soloists. I had been reduced to a timid juvenile with fluctuating emotions.
In the concert hall, feeling my heartbeat running intensely quickly, I gripped my fists tightly. When I made my last rehearsal prior to the main recital, the hideous fear controlling my mind ripened into an even bigger monster. However, I ventured to face it, attempting to enjoy the moment that would probably never come later again in my future. Although I thought myself to be well-prepared for the recital, when it was finally my turn to be on stage in front of such a vast audience, all my senses reacted vigorously, so much that I almost threw up on the glistening wooden floor. The roaring claps and dazzling spotlight offered to the performers were more of a strain for me than a fervid reception.
When one of the stage assistants gave me the cue at last, I dashed onto the stage with my cherished guitar, silently yet confidently, trying not to make any offensive noise. The sonorous cheer greeted me. I seated myself, cleared my throat, and commenced a four-minute performance that seemed to last an eternity. I could feel my fingers trembling with tension. It was so quiet. When I closed my eyes softly, nothing could I hear except the melody coming out from the musical instrument I was handling. My rough hand glided from place to place on the neck of the guitar. I was engulfed solely into the moment. The threatening long-term terror had vanished from my brain within a minute, and I could find myself completely enthralled in the rendition of my own. I was proud of myself for doing something meaningful, with so many people watching me.
When I gently thrummed on the last note of the music, the serene hall was again filled with listeners, who sent me a burst of applause that pierced through the bubble of tranquility. A gushing rapture possessed me instantaneously, and I felt I had matured into a more evolved persona. I learned to face fear and to conquer shyness. Getting off the stage, I saw my music teacher smiling at me, with his thumb raised as a sign of satisfaction. A kaleidoscopic panorama of thoughts passed onto me when I descended from the stage. At the end of the continuous days of fear, pressure, and anxiety, I found accomplishment.
Merely playing the guitar had presented me with an invaluable lesson. I reproached myself for avoiding such performances for such a long time, and for not having enough courage to take a small step forward. My heart was still racing, but the inexpressible sentiment, a feeling that I had finally made significant progress, which I procrastinated to achieve for nearly a decade, bestowed utmost bliss on me. I hurried into the foyer, exhaled deeply, and phoned my father, who was the person most anxious about whether or not my performance went successfully. As soon as a quiet beep signaled that the line had been connected, not surprisingly, he promptly inquired about the recital. With a small smile on my face, I replied: "perfect, not because I did it without any errors, but because I made a vital breakthrough."
