I would really appreciate if someone could take a look at this essay for me. It's not anywhere CLOSE to my best work, and I consider myself a good writer, so I'm having a lot of doubts about this one. I am submitting my Apply Texas form tonight, or tomorrow morning, so it's my last day to tweak it. Any and all criticism and comments are appreciated, and I love all of you who take the time to read it and have any knowledge on if it would be good for UT. I give you all virtual cookies and lurve.
I remember explaining to my friend, years ago, that there were two kinds of brilliance. There was the natural type; the lucky ones, and whether it be genuine brains or just a quick mind under pressure, they were able to solve their grades and their life through their natural talent. Then, there was the second kind. These people did not necessarily have the highest intelligence, but they had natural ambition. They knew where they wanted to go, and had the will to achieve it. They were the brave, the fighters, and even if it wasn't inherent in everyone's nature to have such drive, it was something that should try and be cultivated.
At the time, I don't think I took my words as seriously as I should have. It's ironic that I talked so much about how wonderful a good work ethic was, and yet did not have an enviable one myself.
For a large portion of my life, I was the lucky one. I did not have to focus very hard on my exams to do well, and slowly, this led to terrible habits. I started slacking off. I did not turn my work in on time, and did not put in half as much effort as I should have. It used to be an object of pride to me when people would tell me how I was so effortlessly smart. They worked for hours on end to make an A on an exam I would study last minute for, and achieve the same results.
After a few years, this pattern not only made me lazy, but it made me a bit vain as well. I started believing that consequences of my actions would never catch up with me.
Like all good lessons, of course it did. The results of my poor habits came in the form of a college letter telling me "We're Sorry."
I remember walking through school in a haze after that. All around me, the people who had worked hard, the people who had even envied me-were happily planning what they were going to do that coming fall now that they had the acceptance letter of their college of choice. Needless to say, I did not join them.
While they were excited and ecstatic, all I felt was disbelief and disappointment. The hardest part was how it was completely and utterly my fault. There was no use in blaming any teacher, or God, or anyone who gave me a false sense of security. The reason for my disappointment was because of me.
I have always wanted to be strong and brave. I have always considered myself as being able to cope with stress in a mature fashion. And even through the sadness, no matter how pressing it was, I knew there was one thing I wanted to accomplish by this happening to me: I wanted to become more resilient.
So when I set out for college this fall, it wasn't necessarily with the idea of transferring schools, but I was very much determined about changing myself. I did not want to just be praised for my luck anymore. I wanted to be the one who others wanted to act like, and most importantly, I wanted to be the one who strives.
This past year, I've started making the changes I yearned to see in myself. I spent a large portion of this winter volunteering at different organizations; the 70 hours I achieved just over those few weeks were well over the amount I helped in any given year.
I kept up with my schoolwork, and in the first semester, one class required a group project that hurt my GPA immensely. I spent many nights with coffee in hand attempting to take the full brunt of an assignment that was supposed to be challenging for four minds working together. My group had graded me poorly on the draft part of the assignment after not trusting my status as a freshman. One of the things I'm most proud of this year is how I took initiative with the other members of the group and did what needed to be done to finish the final portion; the grade that came back on the assignment came to be a 97%. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, I still missed the threshold for an A in the class by an eight of a point.
It was a hard blow, but it made me even more adamant to do well. This semester, I am redoubling my efforts, and I know that with my new work ethic that I will be able to achieve what I want to.
Although disappointment helped to change my mindset, it was not the only thing. It was accompanied by the fear that I was becoming weak, while everyone around me was moving forward. Growing up, I've read numerous books in which the protagonist was strong and brave and never stopped surging ahead. I have always wanted to be like them, and what that experience did for me was to make me realize that I was starting to be left behind, while everyone else was moving onto different points of brilliance in their lives.
So when opportunities to improve myself set in now-whether it is a change in schools for what better fits my personality and values, or a class that will help me experience different perspectives, I want to make sure that I take it. It's because, if I ask myself, "Is this the extent of what all I can do?"
I want to make sure that I always have the will to answer "No."
I remember explaining to my friend, years ago, that there were two kinds of brilliance. There was the natural type; the lucky ones, and whether it be genuine brains or just a quick mind under pressure, they were able to solve their grades and their life through their natural talent. Then, there was the second kind. These people did not necessarily have the highest intelligence, but they had natural ambition. They knew where they wanted to go, and had the will to achieve it. They were the brave, the fighters, and even if it wasn't inherent in everyone's nature to have such drive, it was something that should try and be cultivated.
At the time, I don't think I took my words as seriously as I should have. It's ironic that I talked so much about how wonderful a good work ethic was, and yet did not have an enviable one myself.
For a large portion of my life, I was the lucky one. I did not have to focus very hard on my exams to do well, and slowly, this led to terrible habits. I started slacking off. I did not turn my work in on time, and did not put in half as much effort as I should have. It used to be an object of pride to me when people would tell me how I was so effortlessly smart. They worked for hours on end to make an A on an exam I would study last minute for, and achieve the same results.
After a few years, this pattern not only made me lazy, but it made me a bit vain as well. I started believing that consequences of my actions would never catch up with me.
Like all good lessons, of course it did. The results of my poor habits came in the form of a college letter telling me "We're Sorry."
I remember walking through school in a haze after that. All around me, the people who had worked hard, the people who had even envied me-were happily planning what they were going to do that coming fall now that they had the acceptance letter of their college of choice. Needless to say, I did not join them.
While they were excited and ecstatic, all I felt was disbelief and disappointment. The hardest part was how it was completely and utterly my fault. There was no use in blaming any teacher, or God, or anyone who gave me a false sense of security. The reason for my disappointment was because of me.
I have always wanted to be strong and brave. I have always considered myself as being able to cope with stress in a mature fashion. And even through the sadness, no matter how pressing it was, I knew there was one thing I wanted to accomplish by this happening to me: I wanted to become more resilient.
So when I set out for college this fall, it wasn't necessarily with the idea of transferring schools, but I was very much determined about changing myself. I did not want to just be praised for my luck anymore. I wanted to be the one who others wanted to act like, and most importantly, I wanted to be the one who strives.
This past year, I've started making the changes I yearned to see in myself. I spent a large portion of this winter volunteering at different organizations; the 70 hours I achieved just over those few weeks were well over the amount I helped in any given year.
I kept up with my schoolwork, and in the first semester, one class required a group project that hurt my GPA immensely. I spent many nights with coffee in hand attempting to take the full brunt of an assignment that was supposed to be challenging for four minds working together. My group had graded me poorly on the draft part of the assignment after not trusting my status as a freshman. One of the things I'm most proud of this year is how I took initiative with the other members of the group and did what needed to be done to finish the final portion; the grade that came back on the assignment came to be a 97%. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, I still missed the threshold for an A in the class by an eight of a point.
It was a hard blow, but it made me even more adamant to do well. This semester, I am redoubling my efforts, and I know that with my new work ethic that I will be able to achieve what I want to.
Although disappointment helped to change my mindset, it was not the only thing. It was accompanied by the fear that I was becoming weak, while everyone around me was moving forward. Growing up, I've read numerous books in which the protagonist was strong and brave and never stopped surging ahead. I have always wanted to be like them, and what that experience did for me was to make me realize that I was starting to be left behind, while everyone else was moving onto different points of brilliance in their lives.
So when opportunities to improve myself set in now-whether it is a change in schools for what better fits my personality and values, or a class that will help me experience different perspectives, I want to make sure that I take it. It's because, if I ask myself, "Is this the extent of what all I can do?"
I want to make sure that I always have the will to answer "No."