|By Tepment (Tepment) on Friday, October 17, 2003 - 01:44 am: Edit|
I can't decide which personal statement to submit, PLEASE give me advice which one's better!!!
#1) Will Rogers once warned, “Half our life is spent trying to find something to do with the time we rushed through life trying to save.” Since birth, I had my life organized, determined, and ready to be executed. Several considerable goals on the list included achieving the title of valedictorian at age eighteen, graduating law school by age twenty-six, and becoming a United States senator by age forty-eight. Not only had I examined my ambitious plans repeatedly, but also began obsessively noting every potential obstacle that stood in the way of realizing my goals. It was the most dissatisfying life filled with the torture of achieving one goal, only to be granted the privilege of marking a check in a tiny box and continuing to pursue the next goal on the list. I was imprisoned; caged by my dreams. Was it going to be a significant person, a fortunate life changing or spectacular occurrence that would free me?
Surprisingly, it took a doctor’s visit to revive me, well over eight or nine of them. It was last September, a bitter morning, when I paid my first visit to this special doctor: a self-proclaimed “nephrologist.” With a gentle handshake and a glowing smile, he greeted me harmlessly. “He’s a good guy,” I told myself. Indeed he was, but his words were painfully sharp.
That day, I was diagnosed with a kidney disease called IgA Nephropathy. Essentially, my early prognosis excluding the rehearsed optimism sounded something like, “There’s a high probability of death by age forty, so see me twice a year for the rest of your life and stay close to home.” Certainly I went through the usual stages of mourning, the grim depression, and the “time for reflection.” Yet, there was something not so bad above it all, and this peculiar thought continued to bewilder my mind, and eventually lead to my revival.
On January 18th, 2003, I was born again. As I huffed and puffed my way through seventeen birthday candles, knocking down seventeen pathetic years of existence, I wished for a second life. I longed for a life not “measured by coffee spoons,” and a life not plagued by my own will, but rather a lifetime filled with liberation and true satisfaction. I craved opportunities filled with experiences that seize every moment of every day. Now that half of my life may be abruptly snatched away from me, I realized that it was time for me to live, breathe, and exist differently than ever before. The trapped bird inside was released, free to explore a world not confined by endless lists, unattainable goals, and demanding schedules.
Oddly enough, it has been the added restraints that my disease has brought forth that continue to liberate me each day. Though I recognize that I may have to reside closer to home by the age of twenty-five, I vow to make those seven years in between the best years of my life. I see my approaching college experience as the peak of my existence, my midlife odyssey. With the limitless resources for higher education and the exciting opportunities to converse with scholars over Master’s Tea, I hope to maximize each moment of my college experience. With the list burned and my world revived, there remains nothing left to do but live.
#2) Typical Asian parents preach good grades, hard work, and financial success. My parents are no different. Yet, my parents also pushed for me to have one very atypical Asian attribute: a wealth of friends. For any adolescent, particularly a skinny child with glasses and braces by the fourth grade, being well liked was a monumental task. Therefore, I spent much of my childhood years depressed, confused, and frustrated. In the sixth grade, I had asked a classmate if he wanted to come to my house on Saturday to be declared my first, living friend. I spent all Friday night preparing dozens of scripts for that one phone conversation, and dreaded making “the call” in fear of rejection. Turns out, I had a right to fear. The next year, I decided to try out for the basketball team. In the bathroom before try-outs, I can still remember myself optimistically proclaiming, “I am finally going to have lots of friends!” I was cut after the first week. Still, life goes on and things always get better . . .
By high school’s arrival, I had attained a new pair of contacts, gallons of hair gel, and a hip closet of clothes. With an outgoing attitude to complement my new look, my parents’ constant worries that I’d “never find a date” passed away. Through the first year and a half of high school, I immaturely flaunted my newfound popularity. I was everything I thought people wanted me to be: rude, perverted, and arrogant. I had not the slightest hint of who I was, just a collage of people’s demands and expectations of me. Then, January 18, 2002 twisted my world upside down.
On that night, I decided to host a huge sixteenth birthday party. Crumbling to pressure, I agreed to let one of my “friends” drive my sister’s car. By the end of the night, I found myself thrown into a ditch with a broken arm, lying next to a car that had been flipped upside down and abandoned in a neighbor’s front yard. Before the first bell on that Monday, gossip had wildly spread. All of my “friends” involved in the accident disregarded my existence and avoided me unapologetically. Although I had temporarily fooled myself into believing that I had achieved social status, one memorable weekend and I was flung back to oblivion.
Surprisingly, I have completed these last years of high school upbeat, mature, and extraverted. I recovered smoothly, accepted the matter, and befriended a broad and diverse group of classmates who now contribute immensely in my own personal growth. I have finally grown out of being that insecure kid who wants to fit in, that insecure kid who seeks his peers’ constant approval.
As high school nears its end, I am excited and pleased with the person I have become, the person I now know myself to be. Experiencing high school through multiple social groups has allowed me to develop a compassionate outlook on life as well as stronger social skills to accompany my academic potential. I have learned through my own tribulations to embrace people of all kinds, and I now have the self-confidence to enter a new environment and befriend anybody, if not everybody.
|By Folk_Hero (Folk_Hero) on Friday, October 17, 2003 - 02:44 am: Edit|
That's hard -- they're both good and contain important information. Some schools allow two essays -- one "personal statement," and one "anything else you'd like to tell us." The first one seems more important, but the second one is good, too... Probably number 1.
|By Dancer (Dancer) on Friday, October 17, 2003 - 06:16 am: Edit|
I'd choose #1.
|By Xiggi (Xiggi) on Friday, October 17, 2003 - 10:45 am: Edit|
It would be a shame to let one of those unused!
|By Winterfresh (Winterfresh) on Friday, October 17, 2003 - 11:45 am: Edit|
I like number 2.
|By Xiggi (Xiggi) on Friday, October 17, 2003 - 12:34 pm: Edit|
Oh forgot, I liked Essay Number 2 a bit better. For number 1, isn't there a prompt about overcoming obstacles? By the way, I hope you become a US Senator before turning 48!
|By Clickspring (Clickspring) on Friday, October 17, 2003 - 01:10 pm: Edit|
Send both. Really, most applications allow for an additional essay, and even if they don't explicitly state that you can include an extra, you should send both anyway. They both provide great insight into your life that the rest of the application ignores. Send both! THey're excellent.
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