This is my first draft...eek! XXX-symbolizes my name btw :)
The eerie sight of steady rain slowly oozed its way up and around my spine, jolting me to a sudden start. I rubbed my eyes and carefully dabbed the sweat off my forehead, only to be acquainted with the reassuring darkness of a young night. Seemingly muffled gusts of wind pounded ominously against a nearby window, launching me into consciousness. I glanced over at the clock; it blinked 3:00 AM. Still half dazed, I wobbled into a dimly lit room where my 4'11 grandma was violently flailing her childish arms directly at my mother's face. I chuckled to myself and tip-toed back into my room, hoping for a goodnight's sleep.
It was grandma's way of cheering me up; strawberry milk, chocolate chip cookies and a complimentary chat. This trio of mouth-watering harmony had even the most seasoned soldiers singing for more. So, I sang loud and proud as I relived my ambush on parental unit 1, in which I used an AK-1910 (SAT) and a bombshell of low numbers piecing together my GPA. I knew there would be no talks of peace after a 'statistical ambush' of such cosmic destruction, which was why I looked to grandma for consolation.
Gentleness was her greatness. Unfortunately, her greatness steadily faded into obscurity, leaving behind a stern expression ready to take action. With my ears curled inward, fists clenched and mouth slightly open, I prepared to break the silence when, all of sudden, my grandma attacked, "The tombstone is the best stationery for resumes, correct?" I felt like I had just been mauled by the Sarcasm Express. Giving me no time to recuperate, my grandma forcefully added, "I don't have fancy numbers or exquisite Ivy League diplomas that define me, but what I do have is something I would be proud to have written on my tombstone. For as long as I could remember, I have drawn cats for the blind. They ask me to describe the colors and the curvaceous linings. Then, they run their hands along the varying textures to trace the picture in their minds. In other words, I help them see. Tell me, grandson, what is something you have done that is worthy enough to be etched on your tombstone?" I would have been a complete idiot if I had answered, "My 3.7 GPA and my PSAT score.", but, alarmingly, that was all I could think of at that moment.
Unlike most CMC applicants, I have less than superb stats, but I have not spent a single day regretting this fact because I have utilized the past few years trying to craft a meaningful tombstone. If I died today, I would be proud to etch: 'XXX lived to refute the Asian notion that success meant the Ivy League and the rest meant failure. Stress Club is a manifestation of these concerns that will continue to touch the hearts and minds of many generations to come.' I would be proud to demonstrate "nothing is impossible" in etching: 'Suffering from a social disorder, Taehwan did not know how it felt to BE a friend, son or brother. XXX showed him how it felt to HAVE a brother. Taehwan lives on, being the best friend, son and brother he could be. XXX was not just another researcher in a lab trying to find the reason behind the impossibility, but an aspiring psychologist willing to face the impossibility.' All that I have done thus far was not for a measly acceptance letter or a pat on the back; it was for my love of psychology and the message I vowed (for my grandma) to tell the world, "Do something that is meaningful to you. 'You' is not the resume society tells you to have or the Harvard degree your parents want you to earn. 'You' is the legacy of change that lives far beyond your due diligence on earth'
The truth is I did not sleep too well that night because my grandma suffered a stroke shortly after arguing with my mother. Yet every time I visit her grave, I cannot help but cry then break into a smile as I read aloud, "Here lies Lee Sook Yi. She found the cure to blindness."
700 words, need to shorten. My first time here, would have been helpful if i found this forum out much earlier...:(