<p>Okay, so this is not my common app essay. I just had a major home(stay)sickness. Trying to be productive, I wrote this essay down as a practice essay. Please give feedbacks! =D</p>
<p>Here goes:</p>
<p>It was almost midnight; the long hand of the clock was going to touch 0.00 in 15 minutes. 20th April 2010. 2 days after my arrival. </p>
<p>While my sister was snoring soundly and happily next to me, I was trying my best to close my eyes and sink into deep sleep. Mission failed. Attempting to sleep, I wriggled to the right, to the left, all of which brought no result. </p>
<p>Giving up, I just stared at the ceilings. </p>
<p>Staring at the ceiling, I came up with brighttheory. Perhaps, I hopelessly thought, it was just a dream a blissful dream, yet only a dream nevertheless. In the morning, you would wake up, and the dream would be gone. Lost, but subconsciously remained, hidden under thousands of other memories. </p>
<p>But I knew it was not a dream; I had bloody photos as the evidences. That experience was definitely real, as real as, say, my sister next to me, or my unsolved math homework.
So, instead of pondering another philosophical answer, I lied on my bed, registering a random list of the things I missed from that trip.</p>
<p>I missed the painful 3-mile walk from my homestay to Macleod train station which I had to endure every now and then. It was an awfully long walk that I had to regularly bear, before discovering another short, less than a mile walk to the 548 bus stop. </p>
<p>I missed the stars. Back home, I only get to see 3 or 4 stars, at most 6, during clear, cloudless night. There, the stars are countless. When I gazed at the sky, limitless stars would gaze back at me which was why I enjoyed the painful 3-mile walk. On the other hand, maybe I should focus more on the street, not on the stars. </p>
<p>I missed riding the Connex train. The train went ch-ch-ch, people getting in and out. Mothers with their noisy children, punk rocks with their awfully deafening iPod, skaters with their skateboards, aged people carrying supermarket bags, students chatting with each other about Party! and Ooh I think he/she is looking at me. I used to sit anywhere near the window, stretching my legs, watching people passing by. </p>
<p>I missed my homestay mothers cooking. I missed helping her preparing the food or to be exact, helping her cleaning the remaining mess. She was always there, busily chopping raw ingredients in the kitchen by the time I arrived home. During that sacred moment, she would run about with messy hair, frantically preparing everything before 6. I never like eating, she once said, one hand adding vinegar to the mixed ingredients, the other hand tossing the broccoli inside, I just like people eating my food. You are so skinny, dear, she critically said, throwing heaps and heaps of rice into my bowl to my horror, Here. Have another helping. </p>
<p>I missed the annoying trance music and racing games which was eternally played in my homestay brothers room. The music was so loud that I could feel it rattling the wall, while I was trying in getting a goodnight sleep. The games were so thunderous until I actually thought several gang members were having a drift race on the street. To worsen it, he played until 2 or 3 oclock in the morning. As a result, I had 3 weeks of regular thump-thump-thump from the neighboring room. </p>
<p>I missed being adventurous, being able to jump into a bus or tram which led me into unknown places without consideration. It made me feel like a backpacker, a genuine traveler. </p>
<p>I missed getting lost in a bus until 1 oclock in the morning. That kind of trip, when the bus drove to completely unfamiliar stops and I desperately asked the bus driver (and myself), Where the **** am I heading to?! and tried to find hints from the signs and small shops. </p>
<p>I missed chatting with my housemate while borrowing her laptop. She usually nagged about me not bringing my own laptop (Why dont you bring your own laptop??!), and laughed afterwards. </p>
<p>I missed sitting at Federation Square, where there were performances every single day. My favorite was that crazy Canadian lady who asked several male audiences to slap her Canadian butt. She always started and ended her lines with This is a politically correct , Canadians are peaceful, loving citizens , and Im terribly sorry. Really, Im sorry. Canadians never want to offend anyone.</p>
<p>I missed my in-depth discussion about McDonalization with my English teachers. Big Macs in Shanghai, Miami, and Melbourne. They all taste the same., But the meanings behind the people going to McDonalds are different in each countries., and the According to ***uyama/Hanlon/Akande </p>
<p>I missed tracing the hip, small lanes in the city, trying to find The Café and The Cappuccino, both finally found after drinking tons of coffee. Okay, I missed 'The Cappuccino'. </p>
<p>I missed my homestay parents hilarious comments and attitudes, and my housemates baffled expressions while looking at them exchanging opinions. I, on the other hand, switched off the TV and watched them instead, while eating my ice-cream.</p>
<p>And, on the top of my list:</p>
<p>I missed the freedom I got during that 3-week trip. It felt like I could go anywhere, be anyone. I could take my shower at 11 pm, sit at the train station whenever I wanted, jumped in and out of trains/trams/busses using my own guts. It was the most amazing feeling. I could literally do anything. I was finally free!</p>
<p> ..</p>
<p>Halfway through the list, I unconsciously slept. The dream was a flashback of all those memories. The departure. The laughter. The confusion. The arrival.</p>
<p>The next day, the dream had disappeared. It had gone.</p>