“It hasn’t even been five minutes
since I let You down again
I’m sorry
I’d like to give up
But You come whisper in my ear
Carry on
I’m with you
You’re my friend… no matter what’s to come
what may I do
How can I prove
That these words of mine are true
I’d like to give a better explanation
For the things I’d like to change
I think I can
You say you already have
And You come singing in my ear ”
my new location: elephant noise
My stream of consciousness essay. If you don’t get it then, well… Disclaimer: you might not get it.
——
I sit here plastered in front of the TV. “Everyone quiet down, I have important news.” Jordin Sparks sounds pretty good singing the national anthem. She was on American Idol and now she’s performing on the most watched program on television. Over two million dollars for one thirty second commercial. Like that one episode of Home Improvement where Tim Allen’s commercial for plumbing service mistakenly airs during the Super Bowl. I was like seven when that show was on the air. Second grade was so much easier (outside of detention). “Scott, Andrea, and Isaac were involved in an accident in Colorado this morning.” The Patriots decide to kick. I hope their defense sucks tonight. We were supposed to make a scrapbook page for them to remember us. They are supposed to come back next week. We were supposed to have breakfast together. The Giants’ kick a field goal. They make it. I: Clap. Clap I was supposed to play with Isaac. Clap; Oh, I’m so alone. I pull the blanket closer to me. The blanket retains my body heat. It traps the fumes of anger and frustration with no place to escape. The thin sheet separates me. Oh, how safe and comforting it is. We gather and pray. How do I react? Should I close my eyes and start bawling or come off as insincere with my eyes open glancing at those people whose eyes are welling with tears? I’ll just stay true to my feelings pale and stoic. They cry. Why am I so emotionless? Is it that I’ve experienced such dismay before that I’ve become immune to caring? that I just don’t feel the warmth – is that just all I know? Second quarter.
“Come on, Patriots,” she exclaims. She knows no more football than I do, and I don’t even know that much. Linda needs to stay quiet. She’s the only on in this room who rooting for the Patriots. I know they are going to win. They’ve gone this entire season without a single loss. But I want the Giants to win. Patriots score a touchdown. My sister gets up and does a small jig revealing the unflattering parts that I seldom (ha) take chances to comment upon. Wow, I’m mean. It’s not like she deserves anything degrading like that from me. I’m too lazy to get out and do something more “worthwhile” or something like that I guess which means doing stuff around the house, but I never feel like it. The elders call out to God asking for grace upon this couple and their only son. “A selfish request, Lord, but one I must make known to you, O God.” This blanket beats anything else.
These commercials suck. Like three million dollars down the drain for advertising that has no affect on me. Halftime.
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers play. “God, we don’t understand why you have done this horrible thing, Lord. But, we do understand that You will and are taking care of this I sleep.
“in whatever happens.”
“It’s the fourth quarter and the score is still the same!” I shout after waking up and glancing at the TV. The Super Bowl was going super slow. ly. Almost, good thing I caught myself there. I’m crouched, leaning against the blue wall that holds up no matter how much I press myself upon it. It doesn’t budge. It’s the closest thing near me that doesn’t judge me. Even the chairs and carpeted floor make a creaking sound. It’s an old church. I’m too young to experience all grieving and mourning emotions. Giants make a touchdown. I’m too young. It’s not fair to go and experience these shattering feelings that seem to do no good at all. Extra point. He’s only a little more than a year old. Giants 10-7. I’m not much more than seventeen. I wish I were him right now. I’m too young. Why am I complaining when he is only one? We have so much ahead of ourselves. I think. How will I react when I see them again? What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do? God, I am a torn boy right now,
Patriots score a touchdown.
in the middle of another crisis, in the midst of Your people. This is too hard to take. I know You say ‘do not worry’ and about how You don’t give me more than I can handle. Well, I’m telling you that I can’t handle this—I cannot bear this all. Extra point. I clench the blanket and hold it closer. Lord, I question You right now. And that’s how I feel right now its Patriots 14-10 and Giants now have possession.
“Go Patriots.” Is she not aware of me right now? They are more useful to You than I am to anyone, take me instead. Giants advance down the field, Tyree completing the pass by means of a leaping miracle. Uplifting. “Lord, we lift Scott, Andrea and Isaac to You, Lord. Thy will be done Giants touchdown. Extra point. “on earth as it is in heaven.” So did the Giants touchdown in heaven? “Come, Patriots, put up some ‘D.’ ” Never thought I’d hear that out of my sister. I selfishly pray protect them and heal them. Time 0:01, 17-14, Giants take a knee. They win. I jump up and let go of the draped blanket that followed the shape of my body and it falls upon itself. I shout, God, heal me.
Prompt: Tell us about yourself. We know which activities you do and what your academic record looks like but what else should we know about you? What fun, cool, or interesting things about you won’t fit into the categories on the application? Feel welcome to be clever or funny, or write in a way that reflects your personality.
—–
I like to make things work–designing anything that has progression and flow with a sense of satisfaction. Whether that is a Popsicle stick bridge, a mock episode of reality TV, or a brochure for carpentry tools, I enjoy spending my time perfecting my project du jour. I like to randomly recite songs in Spanish or command someone in Khmer. I’d love to create extensive computer graphics or design a thrilling roller coaster.
I get excited about starting a project, and thoroughly plan all aspects of it, efficiently distributing time and effort into its completion. I always want people to get involved, and I admire each person’s contribution. I enjoy a group dynamics. Once the project is done, I cannot help but show people the polished final product, but I try not to excessively flaunt what I’ve done.
My curiosity has brought me to learn how to play many musical instruments. I started with the violin and have added the guitar, electric bass, drums, and piano. I’m fascinated by the emotion and character that a certain style of music can bring, grow, or inspire. My iTunes music library is filled with all kinds of music ranging from classical to hardcore rock, and I think that all types achieve their own sort of passion. In my spare time, I like to compose and arrange music, using familiar songs to make different orchestrations that utilize the tone qualities of a certain instrument, or messing with the surround sound quality that a live-orchestra has.
I dream to embark on a project to design and construct a full-sized roller coaster and ride it for the first time, incorporating track elements and maneuvers with extensive scenery to increase the excitement and overall satisfaction upon completing the ride experience.
I want to surround myself with people that have passions of all magnitudes, whether it be an obsession with the transcendental numbers (like pi) or tightrope walking. I want to be guided and influenced by people with unusual passions and drives that set them apart from others. And I also hope to influence others as well. Being open to learn from others has been essential to my own growth. It’s especially helpful if they are good at Rock Band.
—
+ BS <3
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Two points because of volume issues. But people were laughing so you couldn’t hear it.
Watch and Enjoy!
This space has let me let you read and correct essays.
Here’s the prompt:
Describe the world you come from — for example, your family, community or school — and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations.
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Pre-essay comment: UC’s should die.
—–
My father had just returned from filming a wedding. It was not his main job, but he enjoyed doing the work and making a little extra money on the side. He took his footage and transferred it to the computer while I watched curiously. My father opened up the editing program and started to manipulate the footage to create an introductory sequence with various scenes in the wedding. On my own, I tried to follow what he was doing. He selected razorblade icon to split the footage and then reordered the clips. He did all his work in silence. When he was done, my father left to nap and would later return to finish the rest of the editing.
As soon as I was sure of his absence, I immediately sat where he was before. I grabbed the mouse and mimicked his actions, first clicking the razorblade icon and cutting up some footage. This excited me because exactly what I expected to happen did! I rearranged the clips and superimposed text to name the people of the wedding party, trying out different tools of the program. I added some classical music to the production, saved the project, and previewed my work. The sound was too loud from the computer speakers and my father woke up to investigate my antics.
He looked at me, slightly angry. But as my eyes were fixed on the monitor, I smiled. I was rejoicing in what I had just finished, creating something gratifying on my first try. I caught sight of my dad as he approached me yet I pretended to not notice him. His mouth opened and I prepared for his chiding. But he only wanted me to play it again; an unusual response since he was protective over his work. Seeing what I had composed, he looked at me, amazed. My father was impressed with what I had done, considering I had never been taught how to edit video. He asked how I added text and music in the editing program because he didn’t know. As I began to show my father, he urged me to slow down so he could learn it himself. In my mind, I was shocked because he asked me to teach him! When he got on the computer to try it out, however, he scorned me because I overwrote his original file and lost the work he had completed. But he didn’t stay mad; my father didn’t prevent me from using the computer. He was proud of what I had accomplished.
In my exploration, I have found an affinity to design using the computer. Making a movie or a website visually appealing to a certain audience gives me a challenge that I don’t mind facing. I live to explore new techniques in graphic design. I want to know how to imitate a certain style. I love thinking creatively. Having the space to tailor my own dream has been instrumental; and I hope my passion results in a future that lets me use this enthusiasm.
—-
Post scriptum: Equus is a good read.
Dear MIT,
Let me into your college.
Sincerely,
Daniel Sngiem
—–
Tell us about an experience which, at the time, really felt like “the end of the world” – but had it not happened, you would not be who you are today. Describe the process through which you discovered value in the negative.
My father was a kind of man who loved others. He loved unconditionally. Race didn’t matter, nor did anything else. He would reach out to people and welcome them into his arms. Taking my hand, he’d go find someone new. And after introducing himself, he’d begin to talk about me. As he spoke, I’d slide back behind him turning away with one ear listening. A couple compliments and a few off-topic statements later, he’d say something about son-induced headaches—I often threw his computer documents into the trash. Reacting abashedly, I lowered my head with a slight grin. My father encouraged me to talk to new people against my shy nature. He wanted me to explore the unfamiliar, even if it caused him headaches. He was my life teacher.
One Sunday, getting ready for church, my mom took me aside in her bedroom. I wasn’t sure what she was going to say to me, yet I had some ideas of what it might be. My dad was recently admitted to the hospital but he had since returned home. She approached me, somewhat restrained. As I sat on the mattress facing her, light broke through the drapes and fell softly on her profile. She took a breath, pressed her lips together, and sat next to me. My mom told me that my dad was going to pass away soon, within the next week.
This stark statement resulted in a disbelief that was quickly inundated by tears. An uneasy, depressed feeling washed through my body, shattering any hopes for the good news that I expected. Of course, I knew death happened, but I had never encountered it on a personal level; I didn’t think that I could survive without my dad, who I loved so much, and who also loved me. My thoughts synchronized with the regular tick of the grandfather clock. Images of living without my dad, without his securing presence, tormented me. Trying to think more positively only caused more pain. I felt abandoned even though my mother sat beside me with her hand placed on my shoulder. I pulled the sheets over my head to hide my emotions. I thought the plain darkness would calm my mind.
This was five years ago. Five years to not rely on him, five years to understand why he had to leave. When I meet someone new I can sense his voice in the bottom of my throat, urging me to introduce myself. He pushes me. Otherwise, I might sit and hope that someone else would do it.
Before my father died, he told me to do my best in school and not worry about him. And for five years that’s what I did. But his words mean more than just doing well in school. He didn’t want his death to prevent me from doing anything. He wanted me to stop from hiding. Now I understand why my father could talk to anyone. He hid nothing. It took his absence to force my arms wide and to open my mind, embracing anything.
—–
Much thanks (Laura, Cesie, Alex, Esther, Elisabeth, Steven, Ms. Leaney, Will)!
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