<p>Hi all,
I'm applying for colleges and I'm a nervous wreck. It'd be great if anyone could give me any feedback on my personal statement! Prompt #1- Tell us about yourself and the world you come from.</p>
<p>Shes the girl in ripped jeans and an old band t-shirt, the girl with both feet on the ground, as solid as the harmony between ebony and ivory. And when she chooses, she flies with her own wings. Is she part Latina or Hispanic? Maybe a mix of Black and Mexican, or part Asian? Polynesian, Micronesian, Samoan? Is she a Cypriot? Middle eastern- Israeli, Syrian, Indian, Lebanese, Persian, Egyptian, a mixture of all of the above, possibly?
Hearing all this, she laughs. Mocking everyone and hiding her winces, as others try to determine her nationality, some sounding more ridiculous than others. As innocent as it seems, mislabeling leads to an awkward experience for the individual involved. It tears down self-esteem. You feel as if you dont belong, never truly here nor there. And the name- it doesnt help either. Jasmine Goraya (pronounced gore-eye-uh). Jasmine is probably the most common first name in the English language and the odd last name originates in countries varying from the region once known as Persia to Russia and Romania.
My mother immigrated to the U.S. in her teens on a scholarship basis, while my father came from Greece on a stowaway ship. As far as I can remember, this stark contrast was always prevalent in my family, not to mention the cultural differences that slowly gnawed away at the household dynamics. My mother, a good spirited woman who always danced around the house, laughing and cleaning, with tendrils of smoke surrounding her, was sensual, feline, a calming influence. She was soft and would light lotus candles even during the day. She filled the house with incense and oils; the scent of sandalwood and musk-amber mixed with the fresh minty aroma of Rosemary and Sage flowing in from the kitchen, beckoning me to join her in her jubilation. Yet, she always demanded perfection. Rather than the sweet, gypsy smoke that curled and kissed the air around my mother, my father smelled of a different kind of earthy smoke; a stench of stale cigarettes and fumy, ash and soot. To be quite frank, he was too drunk to even remember my name, only referring to me as Tiger or Bud while demanding a bottle of chilled beer from the fridge in between bouts of unfounded violence and rage. I only wish he was able to look at the world through my rose- colored glasses and see the beauty in everything that I cant seem to ignore.
No one is perfect Mum, I stated harshly.
No Jasmine. You HAVE to be perfect, my mother responded with a faint smile.
I was only growing when my precious mother declared these words. Never did I let on how much these words affected me and to what extent I felt the pressure. I feared not meeting her expectations, failing to make her a proud mother, or failing in general. But, fear is a dangerous thing. It has the ability to cripple you and disease your mind. However, fear can also provide you with the obstacles you need to thrive; and I always enjoy a good challenge. A matter of perspective is all it really takes to change a bad situation into something beneficial.
Ive come to use my upbringing in an unconventional household to open me to other dimensions of thought. Even today, I find that my main interest lies in Computer Science, a subject that many are surprised to hear coming out of a girl's mouth. Ive come to take pride in my ambiguous looks as no one can ever guess my ethnicity 100% correctly. Ive come to understand that by making me question myself, my mother instilled in me a desire to always strive for perfection. I, however, until my recent years, misunderstood. I took everything to heart rather than exhuming its buried wisdom. But now, I know better. Whether I was named after the Arabian Night Jasmine, a relaxing fragrance considered to be as good as Valium when it comes to calming the nerves, or the sweet-smelling Yellow Jasmine, the deadliest flower that can kill within ten hours if immersed in boiling water and imbibed as a tea, remains a question. But either way, I only wish to grow, openly and wildly, to seek to be a pioneer in both thought and action and give my will free reign to express itself, just like the flower I share my name with. I know myself, but only vaguely compared to what I still have to learn.</p>
<p>What do you guys think?</p>