I feel as though everything is riding on these measly 500 words. I find myself stressing over how I can convey my entire self to you simply through a few words on some ridiculous subject. I come to the conclusion that this is impossible. Though at times I feel I’m a terribly boring person, I realize now exactly how far from true that is. I don’t know how to cleanly and concisely convey that I am a daughter and a sister, a friend and a girlfriend; at the same time, I find these labels constricting and lacking. They, or perhaps I, lack the ability to demonstrate to you my full self, with all my glorious quirks and irksome idiosyncrasies. So, I’ll attempt a type of stream-of-consciousness that can exemplify my oddness but is still less annoying than the stream-of-consciousness of James Joyce.
I listen to music; a lot. As all teenagers do, I find that it can make me feel. I’ll sit on my floor and stick on a CD and I’ll sing along at the top of my lungs. I relieve stress this way.
I read an exorbitant amount. I often find myself reading the most when I have an assignment due for my lit class. For example, I finished an 850 page book and started Jerry Seinfeld’s book while attempting to read my latest assigned book. I don’t even like Jerry Seinfeld.
I watch movies as often as possible. Within my school, people seek me out to find out the names of movies that they’ve seen and forgotten. I’m ridiculously good at six degrees of separation, a game with which I often occupy myself during math class.
Over the past two and a half years, I have taught myself html and graphic design with Adobe Photoshop, a feat which I’m both proud and ashamed of at the same time.
I procrastinate. I love and hate the rush of having 9 hours to write a 2,500 word paper. I like reading all night to take a test on a book the next day. I excel at late night posters.
In other words, I’m the everyman and a gem all at once. I find this particular dichotomy to be interesting, yet like everything else, cliché. So, despite the fact that there is nothing new under the sun, I’d still love to experience it all.
Now I gracefully bow out and you review my application. Exit.
Yes, this is my actual essay. I'll doubt I'll use this one anyway.
