<p>Are Essays My Friends?
Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock. I glanced at my noisy clock and its already 8:49 p.m. I pulled on my frizzy hair out of frustration only to find pain but no answers. For the past couple days Ive tried to brainstorm possible prompts for my essay and none of them were in my interest. None of them were thrilling. None of them got the message across of who I truly am. If I were to tell my life as a book, the ending chapters would be the chapters that rolled like a roller coaster.
에세이 준비 어떻게 하고있니? (Hows your essay going)? asked my mother in Korean. Its going well I replied. The truth is it wasnt. I was given approximately a week to finish this essay and Im still on my second paragraph. Like all mothers, she sensed that I was having trouble writing this essay. She suggested I write about my experiences with cross-country or the year when I got on the Headmasters list all three trimesters. I couldve wrote about those experiences but I chose not to because I wanted to show something different, something out of the ordinary.
I can rant away on how I hate essays but Id rather not waste my only opportunity to leave a mark of of who I am. Like most college applicants I should be writing about my Korean culture and my bilingual ability. I should be writing about my trip to South Korea and how it broadened my view of Korean heritage. I should be writing about all the volunteer work I did over the years such as Relay For Life. I should also be writing about my contribution to my school as being a member of the Student Senate and also being Class President. Most importantly I should be writing about my extracurricular activities and all my motivating coaches that never gave up on me.
Out of all my experiences I would have to write about cross-country and one particular lesson I learned. Joining cross-country was probably the best and worst decision of my life. While I was becoming a better runner, my knees were in pain. While my mentality was becoming stronger, my body was exhausted. While I learned some lessons of life, I faced the public humiliation of coming in last place every single meet. So what did cross-country teach me? Cross-country taught me first and last place are equivalent to each other and the places between those are just places. If you think about it, who do you remember the most in a cross-country race? The 44th runner? Or the runners who placed first and last?</p>
<p>This is really confusing.</p>