<p>OCnative: So do you think 50/50 chance or less because Berkeley puts a huge emphasis on diversity and admitting students who have overcome adversity, my first 3 semesters my Cumm. GPA was 2.11, then I went on a great upward spiral and made it up to a 3.2? And I meant just from seeing other transfer threads and seeing what scholarships were awarded to who, but I appreciate the honesty.</p>
<p>Bomerr: I had a recent Berkeley Grad who works in the writing Center at my CCC look over my essay and I revised it with him 4 times, let me know what you think now for Prompt 2:</p>
<p>Growing up I believed privation and divorce defined my family life, but that was before my mom passed away. I was seven when my mom was involved in a fatal drunk-driving accident. It wasn’t her fault but from then until the time I was thirteen, I was invariably depressed, and being sexually abused by three different older male family members. I didn’t’t really know what I wanted in life until I had been through so much that there was barely enough of myself left to stay alive. Every day I forced myself to believe that it would be better tomorrow; I persevered for years until that tomorrow came. My main abuser, William was seven years older than me and my dad called him to babysit me when he wanted to go out drinking, which happened often. I was socialized to believe that television was entertaining and to respect people of authority. Every time William would babysit me he would wait anxiously until there was no adults around, lay me on his bed and put on a movie; but then I would feel him touching me. Watching the adult films aroused me as he continued to touch me there. He would begin to put his mouth on my genitals for a while, then almost out of nowhere he would put himself inside of me. Almost always I bled from my backside; he would see this smile, then get a wet towel and force it along with his fingers inside of me. It was the most excruciating pain I had felt in my life, but I lived through it somehow. When I was thirteen I found out from school that what I had gone through was wrong. After realizing this I tried, through stealing, to make myself whole again, at least in my mind. From fourteen until I was seventeen I was in and out of juvenile facilities; after notice of abuse was provided to the courts I was sent to a foster-care facility. I didn’t know anyone when moving there, but they had counselors who helped people, like my counselor Jenny. We would spend the good part of days talking about me, my mom, my family and how I felt about my past. I felt uncomfortable talking at first but then I grew to like Jenny and our little talks. I talked to her for weeks, then months and it made me feel like maybe it wasn’t so bad; the situation I was in and my life altogether. After six months there, I felt this sense friendship, comfortability as well as a sense of who I was as a person. My heart was moved and I suddenly wanted to be more like Jenny; I wasn’t her family, yet she genuinely cared for me and somewhere deep inside me that touched me. Prior to going to this foster care facility, I had been taken advantage of and really had no place to call home, but now for once it looked like maybe, just maybe, I had that feeling of wholeness again. My experience there and the altruism that surrounded me caused me desire to give that same feeling of hope and genuineness to another person; someone who had something happen to them in their life that caused them to lose trust in not only themselves, but the world too. I know in my heart of hearts that people aren’t inherently evil, people might do bad things from time to time but I believe that if someone truly cares they can help not only themselves, but society as a whole. I know this because if I can overcome all the craziness, depression, sexual abuse, and incarceration, then anyone can succeed. Life has thrown me so many twists and turns, but every time I get up. When I first started college, I didn’t know what I was doing, just that I needed to persevere through it and I knew I’d be a better person for it. Having been through all the craziness of depression, incarceration, sexual abuse, I know deep down that my experiences gave me the willpower to be stronger than I could have ever imagined for a purpose. I’m not perfect and I don’t aim for perfection. I aim for progress because each day is a new opportunity to move forward and hopefully change a life for the better. I finally have that better tomorrow. I just want everyone, regardless of their past to know that they too can succeed. They just need someone whose been there to show them that they’re not too lost to succeed. </p>
<p>That’s what I submitted on a scale of 1 to 10 what would you rate honestly as a reader?</p>