So this is my rough draft for my essay for the common application, which unfortunately is due tomorrow. I know, I know, I'm a world class procrastinator. But I spent all weekend on this and would really like some feedback on it other than my mother's who insists, "It's great honey!" Not very helpful Mom. So tell me what you think, be honest, I can take it.
The prompt I was going for would either be evaluate a significant experience in your life and its impact on you, or a topic of your choice.
A Wave of Cardboard
There to greet me as I stumble through the door is an ocean of cardboard boxes that now blankets what I once called home. Their monochromatic color has taken my house hostage and painted the walls with its melancholy hue. Yet this scene surprises me in no way, it's one I have come to be familiar with over the years. As my eyes are drawn to this massive ocean of cardboard, a wave of emotion washes over me. I am drenched from head to toe with the feeling of déjŕ vu; my clothes soaked through with the memories of long forgotten friends and empty white walls, of oversized U-Haul trucks and curious stares. My life in no way first the stereotypic mold of the average American family. Suburban homes and white picket fences take way to camouflaged uniforms and cardboard boxes.
As I rummage through our garage I unearth ancient photo albums hidden in the crevices of unpacked boxes. Each album bearing the name of some far away base in a hardly recognizable town scribble across the cover in fading sharpie. Who knew what once was considered to be my life could be so easily forgotten, remembered only on the dusty pages of snapshot filled albums. I open the most recent addition to our ever growing collection and a sharp pain emerges from the depths of my stomach as I'm confronted with a 5x7 of my best friend and I, our faces glistening with chlorinated water, smiling at sun burnt pool goers. My other friend is behind the camera taking the picture as we're both blissfully unaware, too busy being caught up in the sounds of splashing water and the warmth of the summer's sun on our tanned skin. At the turn of each page he pain grows more and more unbearable until I am forced to close the life that is no longer mine and return it to its home in the dark crevices amidst the lonely cardboard boxes.
People are always astonished to hear of my unconventional childhood. "You seem so normal", they exclaim. Most can hardly imagine what it would be like to live on ten different bases, call a dozen different houses home and walk the halls of three different high schools. I can barely fabricate the words as I rack my brain for a response. Hard, but rewarding, I generally conclude. My life is filled with agonizing goodbyes, awkward hellos and remarkable friendships that inevitably crumble under the weight of a wave of cardboard. All the lost friends, forgotten memories and fading pictures are packed neatly into boxes and sealed with tape to be shipped to places across the world, places most people only get the chance to see on television. Despite the hurricane of difficulty the ocean of cardboard may generate, more often than not, a wave of amazing opportunity will find its way to my door and sweep me off my feet, reminding me why it's all worthwhile.
Thanks guys!
The prompt I was going for would either be evaluate a significant experience in your life and its impact on you, or a topic of your choice.
A Wave of Cardboard
There to greet me as I stumble through the door is an ocean of cardboard boxes that now blankets what I once called home. Their monochromatic color has taken my house hostage and painted the walls with its melancholy hue. Yet this scene surprises me in no way, it's one I have come to be familiar with over the years. As my eyes are drawn to this massive ocean of cardboard, a wave of emotion washes over me. I am drenched from head to toe with the feeling of déjŕ vu; my clothes soaked through with the memories of long forgotten friends and empty white walls, of oversized U-Haul trucks and curious stares. My life in no way first the stereotypic mold of the average American family. Suburban homes and white picket fences take way to camouflaged uniforms and cardboard boxes.
As I rummage through our garage I unearth ancient photo albums hidden in the crevices of unpacked boxes. Each album bearing the name of some far away base in a hardly recognizable town scribble across the cover in fading sharpie. Who knew what once was considered to be my life could be so easily forgotten, remembered only on the dusty pages of snapshot filled albums. I open the most recent addition to our ever growing collection and a sharp pain emerges from the depths of my stomach as I'm confronted with a 5x7 of my best friend and I, our faces glistening with chlorinated water, smiling at sun burnt pool goers. My other friend is behind the camera taking the picture as we're both blissfully unaware, too busy being caught up in the sounds of splashing water and the warmth of the summer's sun on our tanned skin. At the turn of each page he pain grows more and more unbearable until I am forced to close the life that is no longer mine and return it to its home in the dark crevices amidst the lonely cardboard boxes.
People are always astonished to hear of my unconventional childhood. "You seem so normal", they exclaim. Most can hardly imagine what it would be like to live on ten different bases, call a dozen different houses home and walk the halls of three different high schools. I can barely fabricate the words as I rack my brain for a response. Hard, but rewarding, I generally conclude. My life is filled with agonizing goodbyes, awkward hellos and remarkable friendships that inevitably crumble under the weight of a wave of cardboard. All the lost friends, forgotten memories and fading pictures are packed neatly into boxes and sealed with tape to be shipped to places across the world, places most people only get the chance to see on television. Despite the hurricane of difficulty the ocean of cardboard may generate, more often than not, a wave of amazing opportunity will find its way to my door and sweep me off my feet, reminding me why it's all worthwhile.
Thanks guys!