ayaha
Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
Letters, words and sentences; that was all I needed. I grew up in a house where book shelves filled most of the walls, even extending to book piles on the floor. Most of my relatives, were in someway working with books: as an editor, book translator, subtitle maker, poet, essayist, novelist. Books was the center of my world; it was pure entertainment to follow the dramatic experiences of colorful characters. At the same time, it seemed to be such a simple job to create fascinating novels and fables. I was even wondering why every human on earth wasn’t an author. Naturally, my only future in this small world was to succeed the family business. Before anyone did, I pressured myself in this tiny pathway when I was just seven years old.
However, the reality wasn’t so sweet. When I was twelve, I took some pen and ink in my hand for the first time, to create stories myself. The writing went smooth; I built some characters, made some dramas, decorated with fancy words, revised once, and done. Ten pages of writing, in a packet, was sent out to a newspaper company, for a regional youth-only novel contest. The result came out in a month. I was a “Fine Work”. I was proud, however, I did not feel fulfilled. I challenged again the next year. “Fine work”. The next. “Fine work”. The Grand Prix, where my future should be connected, was very far away.
I entered high school, with a smoldering feelings of being a failure. I soon got myself busy in studies. Above all, AP World History knocked me out with the massive amount of notes-taking knowledges. It was a totally fresh interaction for a child who has never properly studied history, who first understood the meaning of “Cold War” in 9th grade. For the first time, I understood that all of the wonderful stories in books did not come off-the-top-of-a-head, but elaborated works structured with abundant cultures and history in the background. All of my despairing somber feelings were now forgotten behind all of those newcomers. I started to see a much broader world than I used to.
After 2 years past high school, I suddenly changed my way of writing. I clearly saw the ignorance in my past works, and struggled to add, bolden, thicken them with all that I have seen in high school. That was the first year I won the Grand Prix.
According to my seventy-two years old father, even seventy years were not sufficient to know this world enough. In my 17 years of lifetime, I finally started to see that I don’t know anything. Therefore, for my next 80 years, I will look up from papers in my hands, to turn my eyes on this big world to explore my life. Anyhow, books are only inks and papers reflecting this world.
However, the reality wasn’t so sweet. When I was twelve, I took some pen and ink in my hand for the first time, to create stories myself. The writing went smooth; I built some characters, made some dramas, decorated with fancy words, revised once, and done. Ten pages of writing, in a packet, was sent out to a newspaper company, for a regional youth-only novel contest. The result came out in a month. I was a “Fine Work”. I was proud, however, I did not feel fulfilled. I challenged again the next year. “Fine work”. The next. “Fine work”. The Grand Prix, where my future should be connected, was very far away.
I entered high school, with a smoldering feelings of being a failure. I soon got myself busy in studies. Above all, AP World History knocked me out with the massive amount of notes-taking knowledges. It was a totally fresh interaction for a child who has never properly studied history, who first understood the meaning of “Cold War” in 9th grade. For the first time, I understood that all of the wonderful stories in books did not come off-the-top-of-a-head, but elaborated works structured with abundant cultures and history in the background. All of my despairing somber feelings were now forgotten behind all of those newcomers. I started to see a much broader world than I used to.
After 2 years past high school, I suddenly changed my way of writing. I clearly saw the ignorance in my past works, and struggled to add, bolden, thicken them with all that I have seen in high school. That was the first year I won the Grand Prix.
According to my seventy-two years old father, even seventy years were not sufficient to know this world enough. In my 17 years of lifetime, I finally started to see that I don’t know anything. Therefore, for my next 80 years, I will look up from papers in my hands, to turn my eyes on this big world to explore my life. Anyhow, books are only inks and papers reflecting this world.
478 words
reflection
I fixed awkward sentences that were pointed out last class, then asked some friends to refine my grammar. Also, I worked a lot on my introduction to make it understandable.