It's a wonder what a half-hours worth of working on something can do. But god damn it, i need to learn how to write NOT at 2 or 3 am. otherwise, darxus will fucking kill me before i make it through college. but i'm working on stuff to change my habits such that i can go to school and not have him kill me at the same time. go me.
oh, and below is the essay. give me all the feedback you want. you can e-mail me if you like, and if you want a copy of it e-mailed to you, that works too. But i need the feedback ASAP. i was supposed to turn this in weeks ago (according to my own deadline, the application deadline is not until december.)
Now i just need to mail off the stuff to other people (like rec's and transcript requests) so they can get it in. I'm so bad about that stuff. I will do it tomorrow!!!!!
This blank computer screen sitting in front of me is intimidating. I use to be a good writer. I still am a good writer, but I find the pertinent skills to be a bit rusty, and I am afraid they are too rusty for this task. What have I been doing for the past few years, and why do I want to jump-start my education at this time? This essay, my answer to that question should convince you, the admissions board, that I am worthy of attending Lesley College.
I applied to Emerson College for the fall of 2002 thinking I wanted to pursue Stage Management as a profession. I had been involved with theatre since elementary school, and I loved it. But I quickly left the stage in favor of hanging lights, constructing sets, and maintaining promptbooks. I think I started working on the technical aspects of theatre because of the challenges, and the modesty it allowed me to maintain about my skills and accomplishments
I began my first semester at Emerson expecting to continue to strengthen and hone my already developed skills. The material covered in my classes was neither stimulating nor challenging. The members of the Theatre Department were catty, political, and quite petty. The student body was downright pretentious and self-righteous as a whole (with a few exceptions, I must note, otherwise I would not have made it through my first week). I listened to college freshman complain in class to professors about having “only two weeks” to write a five page paper; it was appalling. The work load was only a fraction of what I had experienced in high school and the content less captivating.
At first I took it as par for the course that general education classes might be somewhat dull, but even students in my major classes had no real interest in participating or in the assignments, much of which were filled with concepts I was readily familiar with. This made me sad. It made me apathetic. Unable to relate to my peers, who seemed more interested in liquor than literature, I often skipped classes and didn’t complete assignments I found trivial. It seemed like I was the only one there who cared to continue developing my craft and who really enjoyed learning. I felt trapped and powerless to find a good way out of this situation.
Much to my surprise I began to question whether or not to pursue theatre as a permanent vocation. I have a few friends in the industry, and discussions with them revealed professional theatre to be a rather lonely lifestyle. I began to realize my desires for a more balanced existence, where my career would be only one part of life, rather than the whole.
I'm not afraid of hard work. I just lost my motivation to DO any work. For years and years, working in theatre was what I thought I wanted to do. It got me through the tough times, and suddenly, I was lost. Having decided that I desperately needed some time off from school, I passed up the option to appeal the academic suspension directly resulting from my aforementioned apathy. I concluded that some "real world experience" might prove a more constructive use of time and resources. This would also enable me to take much needed time to figure out what my next step should be.
This past year in the "real world" has been interesting. It took me longer than expected to find a good job. Much to my dismay, I still needed financial help from my parents once I was employed, and in the end that job turned out not to be what I had expected. Those experiences gave me time to figure out what I did not want to do, and helped me realize how much I truly missed learning. I definitely want to return to school and, after much introspective contemplation and discussion with loved ones, a career in the field of education is the right choice for me.
My father, always a great source of wisdom in my life, was very supportive and encouraging during this process. When I started seriously talking about going back to school he was thrilled that I was feeling passion for something again. He had been struggling with his own career, as were far too many of his peers due to the current economic climate, and was really just relieved that at least one of us had some idea of what they were going to do over the long haul (though I must admit he was doing much better than me in the short term.)
In June my father suddenly and unexpectedly passed away. His death sent me into a months-long haze I am just now emerging from. I was quite close with my father, and I miss talking to him. I miss his encouragement, his wisdom, and his guidance very much. He would have been saddened to know that it took me a while to pick myself back up to do the things he and I had talked about me doing. He was so happy that I was really putting my life together, in a mature and adult fashion.
I am afraid to go back to school. My writing skills feel dull to me, as I mentioned at the beginning of this essay. I'm not one-hundred percent confident that I remember how to interact in a classroom. While I was in school just two short years ago, it seems like a lifetime away. So much has happened since then, and I have grown in ways that words can only begin to express, and that I shall try and convey to some other audience, in a more appropriate manner.
I don't like the idea of failing, and my greatest fear is that I will fail, and let my mother and grandparents down. With my father gone I realize just that much more how important the opinions of my family matter to me. I know I can succeed. I just need to get past the fear. The fact that you are reading this essay shows that I have gotten past some of it, and getting past the first part is really the hardest part.
I have always wanted to do something meaningful with my life, something that has real purpose and helps others. It took me almost twenty-two years to figure out what that was. It might turn out that this isn't the right path for me either, but I know I am mature enough now to stick it out through the end of the class, the end of a term, and not bail out at the first sign of uncertainty.
(oh, and don't you all be so surprised that the essay is all spelled correctly and has proper grammer and punctuation (though PLEASE correct me if you noticed something was not actually right) 'cause i DID write it in MS Word, and this IS an essay that is, you know, kinda graded, and stuff.)