So I wrote about pork roll for my Common App essay. I love food. I tried to bring out my personality in this. Is it bad that I don't have much about my academic history or other experiences in this? Is it too vague? I'm applying to NYU, BU, Northeastern, Princeton, and a few other schools with this. My SAT scores are not very good so I've heard that when that happens it's the essay that counts. Feedback please?
It's called Taylor Ham, otherwise known as Pork Roll, otherwise known as New Jersey's Filet Mignon! Thousands of buyers a day are privileged enough to buy such a sandwich known as the Pork Roll and Cheese: a few delicious circular-shaped slices of this tasty meat treat, a warm, melty slice of American cheese, sometimes loaded on with an egg, and then topped off with a spectacular seasoning of salt, pepper, and, my personal favorite, ketchup. All of this is contained inside a hard roll, or as we Dunellenites like to eat it, a delightful egg bagel from the best bagel shop in our entire one-square-mile town, Dunellen Bagel. But why does only New Jersey get to enjoy this sapid sandwich? The world may never know. Maybe it will come to a rocket scientist's mind, thirty-three years from now.
Every Sunday morning, I wake up at eight. I go for a run and explore through my town and nearby towns. I go sightseeing, as if I haven't seen the place a thousand times before, and I try to pick out things I've never noticed, little details that are often overlooked. Then I go home. I shower, of course, and by this time, all I can think about is a savory breakfast sandwich and a thirst-quenching Arizona Iced Tea. After all, I spent a long morning sightseeing, and by 8:45, I'm more than exhausted. I throw on my favorite pair of Vans and I head out the back door, grabbing my worn out banana skateboard that leans against the brick house. I often forget my iPod, which I bring everywhere, so I run back in to get it. I skate and jam to music all six blocks to Dunellen Bagel. I bid Coach Reed and the "usual crowd" a good morning, I wait in the long line, I order and retrieve, and I leave. Sometimes, I'll sit outside on the tables with a few of my good friends. I also like to bring it back to my house and sit on the Bagel Bench next to my pond. Yes, it's called the Bagel Bench, and I'm sure you can guess what it's for. I watch the Koi fish swim all around as I eat. They splash because they are expecting food, for they felt the vibration of the ground and my footsteps as I walked by just a moment ago. I remember how my brother named all of the fish "Morton" when he was young and my mother asked what each fish should be called. I wonder where the heck this five-year-old heard the name "Morton," because I never have in my life.
One day, I was sitting on the Bagel Bench in my back yard and I started wondering again why no one else in the country besides New Jerseyans get to appreciate the scrumptious sandwich. Is it because it's a heart attack on a roll? No, America has plenty of those; that wouldn't stop anyone. Is everyone else allergic to pork roll? No, that's quite silly. It's because New Jersey is a special place- no, not because it's the diner capital, not because half its schools can't pass a budget- but because we're simply a wonderful little state, bordering the wonderful New York City, and filled with a lot of interesting young people, myself proudly being one of them. Hey, maybe thirty-three years from now, that rocket scientist will be me.
It's called Taylor Ham, otherwise known as Pork Roll, otherwise known as New Jersey's Filet Mignon! Thousands of buyers a day are privileged enough to buy such a sandwich known as the Pork Roll and Cheese: a few delicious circular-shaped slices of this tasty meat treat, a warm, melty slice of American cheese, sometimes loaded on with an egg, and then topped off with a spectacular seasoning of salt, pepper, and, my personal favorite, ketchup. All of this is contained inside a hard roll, or as we Dunellenites like to eat it, a delightful egg bagel from the best bagel shop in our entire one-square-mile town, Dunellen Bagel. But why does only New Jersey get to enjoy this sapid sandwich? The world may never know. Maybe it will come to a rocket scientist's mind, thirty-three years from now.
Every Sunday morning, I wake up at eight. I go for a run and explore through my town and nearby towns. I go sightseeing, as if I haven't seen the place a thousand times before, and I try to pick out things I've never noticed, little details that are often overlooked. Then I go home. I shower, of course, and by this time, all I can think about is a savory breakfast sandwich and a thirst-quenching Arizona Iced Tea. After all, I spent a long morning sightseeing, and by 8:45, I'm more than exhausted. I throw on my favorite pair of Vans and I head out the back door, grabbing my worn out banana skateboard that leans against the brick house. I often forget my iPod, which I bring everywhere, so I run back in to get it. I skate and jam to music all six blocks to Dunellen Bagel. I bid Coach Reed and the "usual crowd" a good morning, I wait in the long line, I order and retrieve, and I leave. Sometimes, I'll sit outside on the tables with a few of my good friends. I also like to bring it back to my house and sit on the Bagel Bench next to my pond. Yes, it's called the Bagel Bench, and I'm sure you can guess what it's for. I watch the Koi fish swim all around as I eat. They splash because they are expecting food, for they felt the vibration of the ground and my footsteps as I walked by just a moment ago. I remember how my brother named all of the fish "Morton" when he was young and my mother asked what each fish should be called. I wonder where the heck this five-year-old heard the name "Morton," because I never have in my life.
One day, I was sitting on the Bagel Bench in my back yard and I started wondering again why no one else in the country besides New Jerseyans get to appreciate the scrumptious sandwich. Is it because it's a heart attack on a roll? No, America has plenty of those; that wouldn't stop anyone. Is everyone else allergic to pork roll? No, that's quite silly. It's because New Jersey is a special place- no, not because it's the diner capital, not because half its schools can't pass a budget- but because we're simply a wonderful little state, bordering the wonderful New York City, and filled with a lot of interesting young people, myself proudly being one of them. Hey, maybe thirty-three years from now, that rocket scientist will be me.