I am the The Little Engine that Could; you know, the children’s book, by Watty Piper, where the little blue engine whispered to itself, “I think I can?” I hope you won’t deem my essay as too cliché already, but my perseverance is what helped me survive junior year...
I think the real question here is, “How well can you answer the vaguest essay prompt ever?” Truthfully, I usually despise open-ended activities; I’m terrible at music composition, drawing anything but inanimate objects, and creative thinking in general. Despite all of my previous failures, I like this question. It may be due to the fact that my brain is fried from calculus and other college applications, but no matter, I’ll try to pull this off...
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Last November, the counselor’s office at my school was hosting a Notre Dame college visit. Extremely prone to procrastination, I signed up one day before. I initially scrawled my name on that sheet of paper because I had heard good things about Notre Dame: it was prestigious with an affiliation to my religion, Catholicism. Due to its high ranking, I expected a histrionic presentation on the legacy and prestige Notre Dame could provide but was pleasantly surprised by the wonderful presentation our representative, whose business card I seemed to have misplaced, gave...
“Cyclist Jeffrey Axelrod, 52, of Brooklyn, NY was killed when he was crushed between the wheels of a cement truck on Thursday on Delancey Street.”Let me backtrack, “Cyclist Jeffrey Axelrod, 52, of Brooklyn, NY was killed when he was crushed between the wheels of a cement truck on Thursday on Delancey Street.” This news was completely unexpected. He rode his bike everywhere his whole life. If anyone was an experienced urban bicycle rider it would be my Uncle Jeffrey. Following the Jewish procedures of a death, we first had the funeral and then held the Shiva at my home...
"Step back. Understand what's going on." This has always been my dad's signature way of telling me that, when dealing with a problem, getting entangled in small details can ultimately prevent me from finding a solution.
"There's something wrong. Stop, it's not going to work!" I hear, as I grip the chattering chainsaw.
Startled, I dart my eyes toward my dad. "What? What is it?"..
They were fickle creatures, tranquil one day because of normal care, ghastly the next because of the same. When we changed how we nurtured them, they usually rebelled, rarely becoming satisfied. Even when the all-powerful master took care of them, they would riot, defying even her iron grip that allowed for no insurgence. On the days they looked normal, happily reproducing, they were secretly hiding a colony of anarchists only found when looking in the highest power of the microscope. These were our cells, affected with the disorder xeroderma pigmentosum type A...
I drink tea based on my ever-shifting mood. Mint is for the stress. It is for easing those tight shoulders and pained hands in the middle of the night. It is for stretching myself as far as possible, so close to breaking, but escaping by just an inch, saved by the freshness of that tea...
When I was younger, I used to fall asleep on my mother’s stomach, my left ear pressed up against her soft cotton t-shirt. The cotton was warm from the heat of her skin, giving my cheek beautiful bliss until… grrrr. Her stomach had just grumbled.I jumped up from her stomach, shocked at that alarming, mysterious noise her stomach had made. I thought it was trying to eat me...
“[MY NAME] finishes with a respectable 56.9 seconds.” When the Sports Car Club of America announcer says “respectable,” he’s just trying to make you feel better about your time. In 2006, Dad purchased a blue 1999 Track Magic Demon go-kart. We often frequented karting competitions and had great fun, despite recording awful times. But at the beginning of high school, I began to take motorsports more seriously...