<p>My gosh, how I wanted to like metal music. All my friends liked it. There was something appealing about it---maybe I just didnt understand the pleasure possible from that migraine-inducing head-banging, that yelling and roaring that made up the bulk of the lyrics of metal songs, and the disturbing band names like Dying Fetus. There mustve been something I couldve liked about it. I tried really hard to like it.
I also saw those ugly fish-net stocking gloves, tacky rainbow hair extensions, hackneyed accessories with skull motifs, and shirts with equally obscure and popular bands that came with the metal image that all my other truly metal peers wore. I didnt know that I had to like metal and its accompanying image. I thought, I better get those things too or nobody will know I'm "metal." I bought them as quickly as I could; Hot Topic had very intimidating lighting and it made me uncomfortable. Something I remember conspicuously was a red My Chemical Romance t-shirt, a band I was acquainted with vaguely, with a caption saying, Ive Got My Own Friends, I Dont Need Yours. With that shirt, I could announce silently to the world "my" clearly "metal" mindset, without having to eternally wear an angsty scowl. I didn't really agree with "my own" "metal" philosophies but it was the kind of cynical thing my friends would have approved of as metal. I knew when I wore it, everybody would understand who I was.
I changed my hair style too. A metal haircut wasnt as much cutting your hair as it was letting your hair grow out, no matter how inconveniently it grew out. My bangs hindered my sight perpetually and it was very bothersome. Although I couldnt see, at least everyone else could see that I was metal.
I put that raucous metal music on my iPod shuffle, expecting myself to like it after growing accustomed to it, kind of like the story of the boy growing fond of a puppy he initially hates after it repeatedly shows the boy affection. Metal just wasnt as lovable as Old Yeller was. It was so hard to love metal; in fact, I dont think I ever even liked it.
Some things are inevitable when youre older. A romance in your fourties is undeniably more mature than a middle school fling. The relationship I had with Metal was incomprehensible once I experienced one with Bossa Nova. Metal was so loud; the image that I had to produce to show I liked the genre was so visible; the things I had to like had to be so obvious. A description of the genre matches the image it imposed on me: always so loud as if it was proclaiming, I am a metal-head! Cant you see? Its so obvious to everyone, its so visible to everyone. I couldnt even see myself through that long, stringy, windshield of hair in front of my eyes, yet apparently at the same time, everyone else could.
Bossa Nova was different. I didn't have to hold hands with Bossa Nova in public to show that I loved it, nor did it indoctrinate me with cynical viewpoints. No public displays of affection for the genre on loud t-shirts and ugly accessories were necessary. I could enjoy Bossa Nova without being imposed by a list of mindset and image related prerequisites required before I could actually listen to the music.
The swaying, gentle p-tum tums, and quiet plucks on the guitar accompanied by Joao Gilbertos soft crooning were instinctively enjoyable. The music never screamed and begged for attention like Metal did, instead---it quietly intimated instead, "Listen... if you want."Those who did listen, a few jazz connoisseurs and old Brazilian folk, appreciated the music, nothing else.. The genre was not accompanied by an image when I first encountered it (like dreads with reggae and tight, unbreathable clothing with rock.) I never felt forced to like it; instead, I was allured by it. I didnt have to get my friends to approve how "Bossa Nova" I was, nor did I have to pass trials of music-genre-love by uneasily lurking in intimidating stores. It was odd to encounter music just as music, but even more than that, it was refreshing. I only had to love Bossa Nova--- and all along, that was the only thing that mattered. I love Bossa Nova. No one can see it, but I can certainly hear it. Its obvious to me and no one else.
After that, I was able to pull my bangs away from in front of my eyes and see myself. I didnt need to like metal any more.</p>
<p>Please look at pinned posts at the tops of forums as you enter. There is one warning against posting essays or other sensitive information online. Here we ask for readers, then PM the essay.</p>
<p>This is meant to be a personal statement? If so, what was the prompt?</p>
<p>This is just a draft for a general personal statement for a common application. I’ve written couple drafts using different topics. My parents and I are having some disagreements on which topic I should use. I am hoping to get some feedback here to help to select the best one.</p>
<p>This is just a narrow slice of you and wouldn’t do as a general personal statement, if that’s what you are asked to provide.</p>
<p>I don’t learn much about you from this, except that you experienced peer pressure. It takes you a really long time to make that point. You say ‘metal’ so many times it get tedious. Also I’m confused because MCR is like alt-rock pop.</p>
<p>Avoid sweeping generalizations outside of your experience zone: Some things are inevitable when you’re older. A romance in your fourties is undeniably more mature than a middle school fling.</p>
<p>I think this could be an okay essay for a short topic. You would have to prune it way down and try to direct it more.</p>
<p>HI BrownParent, many thanks for your helpful input. I’ve also written another one using a different topic. Would you be able to comment on that one too? I can PM it to you if it’s okay with you. I just need to narrow down to the best one to move forward with. Many thanks again and your help is much appreciated!</p>