<p>I am looking for an experienced writer to review my scholarship essay. Please construct, do not degrade. </p>
<p>Topic:
Describe a time you found yourself in an uncomfortable or difficult situation. How did you cope with it and what did you learn from it?</p>
<pre><code> “What do you want me to do about it?,” my father constantly retorts. I have heard that phrase many times throughout my life that this response never takes me aback; but when will he stop saying that? I have offered as many suggestions as I can, yet I still receive reproaches. “What is the point of having five children if they don't give me ideas?” is one of the most common. So, I am asked for ideas, and when I transmit them I am corresponded with a series of excuses not to implement them.
Great, the reader might be thinking, another tragedy to read. No, this will not be tragic, just somewhat unfortunate. But I won't evoke pity from you, since even I am sick of feeling sorry for myself. I grew weary of that emotional weakness long ago.
My father's restaurants have been failing for quite a few years now. I feel that my mother's deportation precipitated an array of problems. Since then, not only has my family been separated, but money has also become a problem. Those restaurants that initiated because of a desire to strive for a better life are now becoming fruitless, despite any efforts made.
“Dad, I think it's time for some innovation. I designed a new menu for the restaurant!” I told him as enthusiastically as a child, waiting for his approval. “When will we print them out?”
“Not now. Soon. When business goes up, I know it will happen.”
Here we are two years later, waiting for it to happen. How can he expect business to go up if he never tries to liberate himself from the monotony that he has subjected his restaurants to for so long? Excuses, excuses. No one has ever listened to me, especially not my father.
I felt undermined for never having been taken into consideration. I always thought, if my mother were here she would instill some sense into him. However, I eventually became indisposed to continue hearing my laments. I confined myself in solitude, which became my best companion, one of my primary means of coping. It helped me reflect. It helped me realize that struggle is elemental in life, and only when we overcome it do we realize the extent to which our character has been fortified. Even today I deal with my father's obstinacy and reluctance to try new things, but I no longer feel discouraged to keep pushing him, despite his rejection of my propositions. My father's restaurants may not become affluent again, but at least overall I have learned that broken things will never amend themselves. I must strive to fix them, and setting obstacles will only delay progress. I love my father, but I do not wish to be like him and find myself saying "What do you want me do to about it?" No, my goal is to improve because to improve, is to grow.
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