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Anonymous Posted 13 years ago
Essay & Composition Writing
My college essay
I need help with my college essay. Can you guys give me your opinion on this? It was inspired by the Sunday essay, one of the JumpStartCollege model essays.
The light from outside shone through the windows and the echoes of soft music sounded in the room as I played my guitar. All my Sundays are alike; I have set them aside for me to relax, read and play. Saturday is my day of rest and relaxation. I spend them at the same table where I have eaten instant noodles, slaved on my homework and conquered guitar pieces.
They are the only days where I can notice a subtle uncertainty. I was free to work on whatever I pleased. Having grown up here in our 2nd floor apartment, I know everything about it, from the best hiding spot in a game of hide and seek (the little corner behind the wardrobe) to the annoying sound of the refrigerator that flicks on and off because of the power shortages that are so common in Myanmar. My journals are stacked neatly in a corner with my summer reading, next to the tabs and guides for my guitar. I could barely hear the tick-tock of the grandfather clock right beside the wardrobe as the day passed as quietly as a creek in a distant forest.
I thought about going for a jog outside since it was still so early. I have not changed out of my pajamas and it is getting hotter as the sun rises. Yangon summers are not to be taken lightly so I decided against exercise. I’ve been reading for about an hour now and decided to pick up my guitar.
As I’ve grown older, my hobbies and mannerisms have become apparent to me. My Saturday morning readings, my guitar practice, my day of rest is a weekly reprieve from the daily nuisances of life. They have become second nature to me, but normal Saturdays for me would be totally different from someone else. A smooth, relaxing and “normal” Saturday morning might be completely unorganized and spontaneous for a person who upholds order and organization.
I lay my book, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, down and stood up to stretch. I opened my window and looked out at the stretch of grass that was shades of orange and green, bright from the shimmer of the sun. I have the entire day to do whatever I wish.
(Thread title edited by moderator to make it more informative.)
The light from outside shone through the windows and the echoes of soft music sounded in the room as I played my guitar. All my Sundays are alike; I have set them aside for me to relax, read and play. Saturday is my day of rest and relaxation. I spend them at the same table where I have eaten instant noodles, slaved on my homework and conquered guitar pieces.
They are the only days where I can notice a subtle uncertainty. I was free to work on whatever I pleased. Having grown up here in our 2nd floor apartment, I know everything about it, from the best hiding spot in a game of hide and seek (the little corner behind the wardrobe) to the annoying sound of the refrigerator that flicks on and off because of the power shortages that are so common in Myanmar. My journals are stacked neatly in a corner with my summer reading, next to the tabs and guides for my guitar. I could barely hear the tick-tock of the grandfather clock right beside the wardrobe as the day passed as quietly as a creek in a distant forest.
I thought about going for a jog outside since it was still so early. I have not changed out of my pajamas and it is getting hotter as the sun rises. Yangon summers are not to be taken lightly so I decided against exercise. I’ve been reading for about an hour now and decided to pick up my guitar.
As I’ve grown older, my hobbies and mannerisms have become apparent to me. My Saturday morning readings, my guitar practice, my day of rest is a weekly reprieve from the daily nuisances of life. They have become second nature to me, but normal Saturdays for me would be totally different from someone else. A smooth, relaxing and “normal” Saturday morning might be completely unorganized and spontaneous for a person who upholds order and organization.
I lay my book, The Book Thief by Markus Zusak, down and stood up to stretch. I opened my window and looked out at the stretch of grass that was shades of orange and green, bright from the shimmer of the sun. I have the entire day to do whatever I wish.
(Thread title edited by moderator to make it more informative.)
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What do you mean by 'inspired by'? words. Clive
- What do you mean by 'inspired by'?
- words.
- Clive
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What do you mean by 'inspired by'?
Please highlight the parts, if any, that are your own original.words.
Clive
Please highlight the parts, if any, that are your own original.words.
Clive
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