Topic of your choice(common app-500 words)
Story Of My Life
My childhood oscillated between the "real" and "unreal". The real was to go to school, getting enough of that fancy, elegant thing called "education" which both my parents always dreamt about because they have never had the opportunity to "study that high", in order to get a real job so I could be "a good communist citizen", with the big shining star, or the hammer and sickle on my shirt and proudly say "independent, freedom, and happiness for the country"(though not so much freedom...or happiness). The fantasy, which I always loved to talk about, is going to America, and becoming one of those people, with their big nose, blue eyes, white teeth, and having a lot of chocolate to eat.
"Why can't we just go to America, Daddy?" I'd innocently ask.
"Because if we go, we'll die!" he tersely responded.
America then became that strange country where we were forbidden to go, because dad said, "if we go, we'll die!", which constantly reminded me of all the horrifying stories that mommy used to tell about those poor immigrants who were eaten by shark and shot to death while trying to cross borders. Sometimes it struck me as I saw "foreigner" evaded our street, with the pairs of sun-shaded glasses hanging across their faces while arrogantly talking with the small thing that they were holding. Celebration came when some of my mother's American relatives visited us, bringing along their chocolate, videogames and all sorts of cool things, especially the scent in their clothes that always made me sniff and wonder. They would take us to those fancy, pricey restaurants that we never dreamt of taking a step into. But just like Christmas, they came and went. Despite the deadly warning from dad, I once tried to escape. My first attempt was, in my innocence, to hide inside our guest's luggage, hoping they would forget how heavy it was, and carry me along to America. My plan failed when my parents freaked out and went looking for me, and got awfully mad when finding out I was in there the whole time. They took away all the candy that I could potentially eat for months. I cried but no one cared, even the good-looking relative hated me.
I didn't give up though. I often had a made-up reason to ask mom to take me all the way to Central Market. With the flimsy and funny-looking motorbike after crossing what seemed like a thousand of miles, we suddenly entered the whole new world, where light was on and bargaining happened all day. In that noisy and bustling environment, Central Market was where I sought refuge. It gave me those joyful instances, which I have never experienced in real life, moments looking at the American girl shopping and happily chatting on the phone, the French man drinking wine or through the glass window of some lavish restaurant, or the English woman enjoying her dinner with her family. For just a few seconds, shortened by the speed of a motorbike and the endless complaints from mom, I actually felt safe and happy: safe for knowing that I was surrounded by wealthy and friendly people; happy for once in my lifetime, my wish nearly come true.
Someone told me once that god never listens, that what he does is to spit and turn prayer away, but I have never once given up. "Even if god doesn't listen, I'll build my own airplane and fly to anywhere I want", I once thought. I then brought home all the "tools" I needed to build an airplane for real, only to be cursed and taken away by mom. She said building an airplane is only for those wealthy, white-collar people, and I should concentrate on studying and getting a decent job to earn enough money and be able to feed myself because mommy and daddy won't live long. I strongly disagreed and didn't talk to her for weeks. My dream has always been important to me and without it, I could not survive. "What's the joy of eating but without my dreams?" I asked her
Time passed, and one never would have known, but I was able to go to America without finishing my airplane. My world was suddenly enlightened and I knew the road ahead would be different. I am now would be able to pursue my educational goal and the desire of building something big and innovative. "So now instead of airplane, I'll build the aircraft to bring me to space"
Story Of My Life
My childhood oscillated between the "real" and "unreal". The real was to go to school, getting enough of that fancy, elegant thing called "education" which both my parents always dreamt about because they have never had the opportunity to "study that high", in order to get a real job so I could be "a good communist citizen", with the big shining star, or the hammer and sickle on my shirt and proudly say "independent, freedom, and happiness for the country"(though not so much freedom...or happiness). The fantasy, which I always loved to talk about, is going to America, and becoming one of those people, with their big nose, blue eyes, white teeth, and having a lot of chocolate to eat.
"Why can't we just go to America, Daddy?" I'd innocently ask.
"Because if we go, we'll die!" he tersely responded.
America then became that strange country where we were forbidden to go, because dad said, "if we go, we'll die!", which constantly reminded me of all the horrifying stories that mommy used to tell about those poor immigrants who were eaten by shark and shot to death while trying to cross borders. Sometimes it struck me as I saw "foreigner" evaded our street, with the pairs of sun-shaded glasses hanging across their faces while arrogantly talking with the small thing that they were holding. Celebration came when some of my mother's American relatives visited us, bringing along their chocolate, videogames and all sorts of cool things, especially the scent in their clothes that always made me sniff and wonder. They would take us to those fancy, pricey restaurants that we never dreamt of taking a step into. But just like Christmas, they came and went. Despite the deadly warning from dad, I once tried to escape. My first attempt was, in my innocence, to hide inside our guest's luggage, hoping they would forget how heavy it was, and carry me along to America. My plan failed when my parents freaked out and went looking for me, and got awfully mad when finding out I was in there the whole time. They took away all the candy that I could potentially eat for months. I cried but no one cared, even the good-looking relative hated me.
I didn't give up though. I often had a made-up reason to ask mom to take me all the way to Central Market. With the flimsy and funny-looking motorbike after crossing what seemed like a thousand of miles, we suddenly entered the whole new world, where light was on and bargaining happened all day. In that noisy and bustling environment, Central Market was where I sought refuge. It gave me those joyful instances, which I have never experienced in real life, moments looking at the American girl shopping and happily chatting on the phone, the French man drinking wine or through the glass window of some lavish restaurant, or the English woman enjoying her dinner with her family. For just a few seconds, shortened by the speed of a motorbike and the endless complaints from mom, I actually felt safe and happy: safe for knowing that I was surrounded by wealthy and friendly people; happy for once in my lifetime, my wish nearly come true.
Someone told me once that god never listens, that what he does is to spit and turn prayer away, but I have never once given up. "Even if god doesn't listen, I'll build my own airplane and fly to anywhere I want", I once thought. I then brought home all the "tools" I needed to build an airplane for real, only to be cursed and taken away by mom. She said building an airplane is only for those wealthy, white-collar people, and I should concentrate on studying and getting a decent job to earn enough money and be able to feed myself because mommy and daddy won't live long. I strongly disagreed and didn't talk to her for weeks. My dream has always been important to me and without it, I could not survive. "What's the joy of eating but without my dreams?" I asked her
Time passed, and one never would have known, but I was able to go to America without finishing my airplane. My world was suddenly enlightened and I knew the road ahead would be different. I am now would be able to pursue my educational goal and the desire of building something big and innovative. "So now instead of airplane, I'll build the aircraft to bring me to space"