Yes, there are four total, but I modified an old college essay answer for one, so I didn't have to brainstorm on here.
It's time for the community/family/things about them that were important to my personal development! Yaaaaayyyy!
Can I real quick just point out bullshit this question is? Like, my family and my community have affected me in pretty much every single possible way you could think of. Nearly everything about my family has been important to my personal development, so yeah. Broadest question ever.
I can't decide if I want to talk about diversity or not. Like, it's sort of easy: my mom is Japanese, my grandmother is very obviously a first generation immigrant who still has difficulty speaking in English about 80% of the time; I went to an elementary school that was very diverse, had a strong focus on diversity, both racially (especially with regards to the whole MLK thing) and in other ways, namely that it was the designated school for disabled students, so we had a whole bunch of people in our classes with developmental/mental/physical disabilities. Moving to Minnesota, there's the whole Hmong/Somali aspect - so there's religion and smaller minorities.
At the same time, I feel like it's a little disingenuous. Like, in some ways my surroundings have been very diverse, but in many ways, they also haven't been. I'm not close friends with anything who isn't middle class and raised in America. Most of my classes don't have that many people who aren't white. Also, I've tried to write that response multiple times, and I just don't know where to start.
Unfortunately, I also can't come up with any other answers either. I could talk about how weird my family is, but that's hard to explain.
So um yeah, I just don't know what to do. That's pretty much all this post is about. I'll probably end up writing about diversity, but ugh. It's just so awkward.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Other questiony things I should answer.
"Describe a mistake you made or a challenge you faced. How did you respond to that mistake or challenge, and what did you learn from your experience?"
I went back and forth on whether or not to post this one, because it really is quite personal. I wrote about a mistake, and since it wasn't all that long ago, and I wasn't all that young, I feel a little leery of sharing.
Understand that I am not a very touchy-feely type of person in real life. Large displays of affection generally make me feel embarassed. I cry all the time at books and movies, but I don't cry in real life all that often. I try, generally, to keep my moods in check. So sharing something, especially something I'm not proud of, is difficult at the best of times.
So anyway. I could have copped out of this, and wrote about how big of a mistake pretty much my entire sixth grade year was, since I decided it would be a good idea to become friends with the "popular" group of girls, and I was pretty much miserable for the first half of the year. But that would be making myself a victim, which feels wrong. It feels insincere. And as you'll all see, this entire story is about being honest.
So it was freshman year. I was in French class. We'd had to do some sort of group project, and I forget who I worked with, but it was definitely someone I knew reasonably well, which makes the entire thing that happened mildly less mortifying.
Anyway, so Madame is handing our scores back, and I notice that despite the fact that I scored one point lower than my partner in a category, I have the same score as her overall. Which meant Madame had added the points up wrong.
Now, not as any sort of justification, but have you ever had a teacher that drilled it into your head that if there's a mistake in your favor, you shouldn't tell them? Especially when it's a small mistake. Well, I had a teacher like that freshman year, and I'd had teachers like that before, and I wasn't sure if Madame was a teacher like that or not at that point in the year, so I guessed. Of course, I guessed wrong, and obviously my own desire not to lose a point played into all of this; still, that was part of my reasoning.
I would also like to acknowledge how stupid this whole thing was right here. I mean, it was a point. I have a feeling it wasn't even a point that would change what letter grade I got on the project - maybe make it an A minus instead of an A. The point (ha!) is, it wasn't worth lying about. But again: I was a freshman. I didn't understand how unimportant that point was. I was just starting out high school, and it had been told to me over and over how much harder high school was than junior high, so I treated it like every point was the one that would eventually get me into college or not.
So anyway. Madame asks if there's anything anyone would like to say, questions about scores, etc., which should have been my cue to speak up, but I didn't.
Somehow, she sensed this or something, because after making that announcement, while people are kind of chattering, she comes over and asks our table if there's anything wrong. And I can't lie to her when she asks that directly. So I tell her, in my bumbling and inadequate French what's wrong, and she goes, Oh, yep, that's a mistake, and then she holds up my paper and says to everyone, "Check, make sure your score adds up, Anri just found a mistake in hers." And then she looks at me over her glasses, and asks me in a low voice, "Were you going to tell me otherwise?" And what can I say? So she gives me this really disappointed look and walks over to mark the change.
I wanted to become invisible, right then and there. My partner had heard, and was looking at me, and I was turning bright red (fun fact: when I get embarassed, the tips of my ears get really how and turn red. It's weird). To top it all off, she comes back and returns it to me and says, "I'm feeling nice, think of it like a holiday bonus," and gives me the paper back - she didn't take away the point. But the look she gives me while she does it - I never, ever wanted to see that look again.
For the rest of the year, I thought Madame remembered and was judging me. I still sometimes think she does. And I know my partner remembered, at least for a time, because I do remember it being brought up after a little bit of time had gone by.
So yeah: mistake I made. What I learned? That old saying about honesty is true. Be honest. Always. Omission is a form of dishonesty. And never try to hide anything from Madame.
(Now that I think about it, this probably also qualifies as the most embarassing thing that's ever happened to me. So now I have an answer for that question, should it ever come up.)
I went back and forth on whether or not to post this one, because it really is quite personal. I wrote about a mistake, and since it wasn't all that long ago, and I wasn't all that young, I feel a little leery of sharing.
Understand that I am not a very touchy-feely type of person in real life. Large displays of affection generally make me feel embarassed. I cry all the time at books and movies, but I don't cry in real life all that often. I try, generally, to keep my moods in check. So sharing something, especially something I'm not proud of, is difficult at the best of times.
So anyway. I could have copped out of this, and wrote about how big of a mistake pretty much my entire sixth grade year was, since I decided it would be a good idea to become friends with the "popular" group of girls, and I was pretty much miserable for the first half of the year. But that would be making myself a victim, which feels wrong. It feels insincere. And as you'll all see, this entire story is about being honest.
So it was freshman year. I was in French class. We'd had to do some sort of group project, and I forget who I worked with, but it was definitely someone I knew reasonably well, which makes the entire thing that happened mildly less mortifying.
Anyway, so Madame is handing our scores back, and I notice that despite the fact that I scored one point lower than my partner in a category, I have the same score as her overall. Which meant Madame had added the points up wrong.
Now, not as any sort of justification, but have you ever had a teacher that drilled it into your head that if there's a mistake in your favor, you shouldn't tell them? Especially when it's a small mistake. Well, I had a teacher like that freshman year, and I'd had teachers like that before, and I wasn't sure if Madame was a teacher like that or not at that point in the year, so I guessed. Of course, I guessed wrong, and obviously my own desire not to lose a point played into all of this; still, that was part of my reasoning.
I would also like to acknowledge how stupid this whole thing was right here. I mean, it was a point. I have a feeling it wasn't even a point that would change what letter grade I got on the project - maybe make it an A minus instead of an A. The point (ha!) is, it wasn't worth lying about. But again: I was a freshman. I didn't understand how unimportant that point was. I was just starting out high school, and it had been told to me over and over how much harder high school was than junior high, so I treated it like every point was the one that would eventually get me into college or not.
So anyway. Madame asks if there's anything anyone would like to say, questions about scores, etc., which should have been my cue to speak up, but I didn't.
Somehow, she sensed this or something, because after making that announcement, while people are kind of chattering, she comes over and asks our table if there's anything wrong. And I can't lie to her when she asks that directly. So I tell her, in my bumbling and inadequate French what's wrong, and she goes, Oh, yep, that's a mistake, and then she holds up my paper and says to everyone, "Check, make sure your score adds up, Anri just found a mistake in hers." And then she looks at me over her glasses, and asks me in a low voice, "Were you going to tell me otherwise?" And what can I say? So she gives me this really disappointed look and walks over to mark the change.
I wanted to become invisible, right then and there. My partner had heard, and was looking at me, and I was turning bright red (fun fact: when I get embarassed, the tips of my ears get really how and turn red. It's weird). To top it all off, she comes back and returns it to me and says, "I'm feeling nice, think of it like a holiday bonus," and gives me the paper back - she didn't take away the point. But the look she gives me while she does it - I never, ever wanted to see that look again.
For the rest of the year, I thought Madame remembered and was judging me. I still sometimes think she does. And I know my partner remembered, at least for a time, because I do remember it being brought up after a little bit of time had gone by.
So yeah: mistake I made. What I learned? That old saying about honesty is true. Be honest. Always. Omission is a form of dishonesty. And never try to hide anything from Madame.
(Now that I think about it, this probably also qualifies as the most embarassing thing that's ever happened to me. So now I have an answer for that question, should it ever come up.)
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Prez Scholar App: Question 1
Actually it's Question 2, because the first question asks how my family or community has shaped my "personal development", and I can't handle that shit now. So instead, let's start this all off with the following:
"Discuss some creative work that illustrates the way you see the world and the way you see yourself in the world. The work may be a scientific theory, novel, film, poem, song, or other art form."
To begin with, I would like to draw your attention to the idea that a scientific theory is a "creative work", because it speaks volumes to the type of people who are filling this thing out that any of them would write a quarter of a page about why a scientific theory is similar to their worldview and themselves instead of talking about a film or a book or a poem or pretty much ANYTHING ELSE. I'm not even sure I can really think of any way that would work. I guess maybe you could talk about how insignificant you are?
(Okay, now that I'm thinking about it, there are actually some really cool routes you could go - like, how amazingly improbable it is that I exist, as I am, and how absolutely unique it is that I do, and how mind-blowing it is to think that every single person on earth is similarly unique and improbable. In fact, if I could find a way to relate that to a scientific theory that I actually understood, I would write about it. Which really only demonstrates how sadly suited I am to be doing this, because despite what I may tell myself about not being a complete nerd, I totally am.)
Anyway, so I chose the movie versions Eloise at Christmastime/Eloise at the Plaza (they're kind of the same, okay?) so, um, yeah. Here we go.
Growing up, I was a scared child. All my favorite characters - from Flounder in The Little Mermaid to Piglett in Winnie-the-Pooh - were worrywarts, nervous and unwillingly thrust into adventure. I always was a worrier - one time, after seeing an article about the Beltway sniper in Time Magazine, I sat in the middle of the floor of our dining room, afraid to stand up because then I could be shot through the windows. I lived over 500 miles away from the nearest shooting, but that was still too close for me.
I didn't grow up watching or reading Eloise, much as I love her now. In reality, I probably would have been horrified by her messiness and blatant disregard for rules as a child - as a rule-abiding youngster, any hint of anarchy was terrifying. Instead, I have come to love her for the way that she represents what I would love to be - happy, weird, and completely free to be myself. The last two things are especially important, as they make the first one possible. The unhappiest moments of my life have come when I've been most untrue to myself. This idea of being honest to yourself is present everywhere in these movies - the plots are completely based on it. Eloise is always unforgivingly herself, and in this way, always manages to carry on, no matter what happens.
These movies are expressions of joy. In the end, though the world has so much sadness in it, it is a truly miraculous place - similarly, no matter what bad things happen to Eloise or those she loves, there is always that happy ending. I believe in happy endings. I believe that if we keep trying, if we strive towards love and friendship, if we are honest with ourselves, if we look for joy everywhere we go, as Eloise does, we can reach those happy endings. We can look back on our lives with content.
Yeah, like I said. I'll be editing these things, I just find it really helpful to start them off here.
BAI!!
"Discuss some creative work that illustrates the way you see the world and the way you see yourself in the world. The work may be a scientific theory, novel, film, poem, song, or other art form."
To begin with, I would like to draw your attention to the idea that a scientific theory is a "creative work", because it speaks volumes to the type of people who are filling this thing out that any of them would write a quarter of a page about why a scientific theory is similar to their worldview and themselves instead of talking about a film or a book or a poem or pretty much ANYTHING ELSE. I'm not even sure I can really think of any way that would work. I guess maybe you could talk about how insignificant you are?
(Okay, now that I'm thinking about it, there are actually some really cool routes you could go - like, how amazingly improbable it is that I exist, as I am, and how absolutely unique it is that I do, and how mind-blowing it is to think that every single person on earth is similarly unique and improbable. In fact, if I could find a way to relate that to a scientific theory that I actually understood, I would write about it. Which really only demonstrates how sadly suited I am to be doing this, because despite what I may tell myself about not being a complete nerd, I totally am.)
Anyway, so I chose the movie versions Eloise at Christmastime/Eloise at the Plaza (they're kind of the same, okay?) so, um, yeah. Here we go.
Growing up, I was a scared child. All my favorite characters - from Flounder in The Little Mermaid to Piglett in Winnie-the-Pooh - were worrywarts, nervous and unwillingly thrust into adventure. I always was a worrier - one time, after seeing an article about the Beltway sniper in Time Magazine, I sat in the middle of the floor of our dining room, afraid to stand up because then I could be shot through the windows. I lived over 500 miles away from the nearest shooting, but that was still too close for me.
I didn't grow up watching or reading Eloise, much as I love her now. In reality, I probably would have been horrified by her messiness and blatant disregard for rules as a child - as a rule-abiding youngster, any hint of anarchy was terrifying. Instead, I have come to love her for the way that she represents what I would love to be - happy, weird, and completely free to be myself. The last two things are especially important, as they make the first one possible. The unhappiest moments of my life have come when I've been most untrue to myself. This idea of being honest to yourself is present everywhere in these movies - the plots are completely based on it. Eloise is always unforgivingly herself, and in this way, always manages to carry on, no matter what happens.
These movies are expressions of joy. In the end, though the world has so much sadness in it, it is a truly miraculous place - similarly, no matter what bad things happen to Eloise or those she loves, there is always that happy ending. I believe in happy endings. I believe that if we keep trying, if we strive towards love and friendship, if we are honest with ourselves, if we look for joy everywhere we go, as Eloise does, we can reach those happy endings. We can look back on our lives with content.
Yeah, like I said. I'll be editing these things, I just find it really helpful to start them off here.
BAI!!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
A warning, of sorts
I've noticed for a couple essays and journals that I've had to write recently that for some reason, I find it easier to think here. Maybe it's because I don't need my words to be perfect the first time around, so I can just write down ideas and jump from thought to thought. Whatever the reason, I have a number of essay-esque things I need to write for the Presidential Scholars Application -
(Did I mention I'm a candidate for that? It's cool, but, well, there are pros and cons...
Pro: only about 4000 students out of the millions that take the SAT become candidates.
Con: only 141 of those 4000 actually become Presidential Scholars.
Pro: if you get it, you get to fly to D.C. and meet Obama!
Con: there's no money involved; it's not a scholarship.
Additional con: there are five essays I need to write for it. Most of them are supposed to be about a paragraph long, but the mondo-gigantic one is supposed to be 10,800 characters long.
10,800 characters is approximately four times the length of my college essay. It is about six pages of double-spaced text. I honestly don't know if they expect me to use all that space, but holy shit.)
- anyway, so I figured I'd write them on this blog, and then edit them for stuff like grammar and formality and language. I'll probably post them too, cause why not, so potentially expect some musing-y/personal blogs that are sort of boring in the near future.
(Did I mention I'm a candidate for that? It's cool, but, well, there are pros and cons...
Pro: only about 4000 students out of the millions that take the SAT become candidates.
Con: only 141 of those 4000 actually become Presidential Scholars.
Pro: if you get it, you get to fly to D.C. and meet Obama!
Con: there's no money involved; it's not a scholarship.
Additional con: there are five essays I need to write for it. Most of them are supposed to be about a paragraph long, but the mondo-gigantic one is supposed to be 10,800 characters long.
10,800 characters is approximately four times the length of my college essay. It is about six pages of double-spaced text. I honestly don't know if they expect me to use all that space, but holy shit.)
- anyway, so I figured I'd write them on this blog, and then edit them for stuff like grammar and formality and language. I'll probably post them too, cause why not, so potentially expect some musing-y/personal blogs that are sort of boring in the near future.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
This is how I think
A friend and I had to write a script for a video for Environmental Science for tomorrow, and this is what I ended up typing. I wrote it all in one go for the most part, starting off with what my partner and I had already worked out in class and then just continuing...a lot of the time I sidetracked myself and then went back and added an entire scene, and the Biblical thing at the end was just because I really, really wanted this whole thing to be like the Bible but with recycling, but we only have a minute and a half time limit, so. That was a long sentence. I don't know, I find it amusing. This is actually how I brainstorm too.
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