FIND X!!!!!!

Finding X, the answer, the purpose that seems to remain forever a variable, is ultimately everyone’s mission. It’s not just an essay prompt.

X is what I fear.
X haunts me at night.
X is what I want to be.
X connotes negative emotions. X often means expunction, elimination, and “cross-outs.” When one writes the letter X, it is done in an obstinate manner, there is not an inkling of hesitation. X is the unknown, the mysterious. It is not part of our knowledge. It makes us feel weak. I fear the image of X. It tells me not to get closer. It tells me it’s taboo to get between its widespread legs. I fear X.
Take X by its legs. Pull them apart. What you have in your fingers are two of the same. Two of the letter “I.” I find X at nights when I’m alone with my sanity. When I question the very ground I stand on. When I look not in the mirror for my reflection, but my very entrails. X becomes less lucid as I face my weaknesses, passions, my losses and gains. X comes when I face myself. X haunts me when the sun creeps low.
X itself took two I’s and crossed them to be something different. X, to be that alphabet, to be used as the symbol for the countless ideas it stands for, had to come from a common descent. I am asked to see what’s in my hands and make greatness. I’ve been x before. Once I saw a fly on the window and was compelled to write what I consider greatness. I saw two sticks and learned to produce greatness in sound. I saw bricks, and made a bookshelf. I saw garlic and mushroom this morning, and cooked up a cuisine. I, however, am not satisfied. I want to be a bigger X.
If you ask me tomorrow the same question you ask today, I might say, “I love X.” I might answer, “X stopped haunting me,” or, “I am X.” Who knows, I might retort, “X is just an alphabet. It is nothing!” After all, X is the ultimate variable.


Please, just tell me you get it. What a challenging prompt

Stanford Short Essay #1

Virtually all of Stanford's undergraduates live on campus. Write a note to your future roommate that reveals something about you or that will help your roommate - and us - know you better.

Dear friend,
Yes, we're friends now. I must warn you, I snore, but the intensity varies so you will be at luck once in awhile. Aside from that, I know you'll like me. I'm a cat and dog person. I'm a drama and action film girl. I can eat kettle and butter popcorn. I can play golf and basketball. I go out to Veggie Grill for lunch and Mongolian barbecue for dinner. I've cried to Rachmaninoff and nodded to Tupac Shakur. I study with index cards and with friends. I love talks over coffee and chats while jogging (...and panting). I've read Marx and Hegel. I might bring in kimchi and fried chicken, but I’ll be sure to keep the room ventilated. I can't wait to share the awkward and the laugh-until-you-hurt moments with you. I can’t wait to meet you, friend.

Sincerely, Irene

P.S. I hope you don't mind a guitar in the room.

I had never struggled so much with finding motivation.

what ive been staring at

i'm sick :(
but the cd player's been helping me. it contains that one cd that zephyr burnt me LONG time ago. ahah felt like being nostalgic.

i found the perfect way to dress my coffee. a packet of splenda and half and half.
mmmm

essay #2

what is one thing you would change about your community?




I remember it either rained or drizzled every day of that week. I remember waking up sore every morning of that week. I also remember craving kimchi every night of that week. I remember finding awkward tan lines above my ankle bones from my brand new (now dirt brown with specks of white paint) red hi-top sneakers. Whenever I decide to wear my red sneakers today, I recall that week of July in New Mexico.

My mission team of seven students and two adults from our church youth group volunteered build a skate park at the Navajo Indian Reservation that week. Prior to that week, we trained by ingraining in ourselves the concept of stewardship and the art of sawing woodboards. We were told stories of alcoholic parents, abusive uncles, and abandoned children.

The first day of that week when we stumbled out of the van after a ten-hour drive, I could not help but contrast the immaculate streets of Irvine to Smith Lake’s unevenly paved streets and bullet-marked signs. Most of that week, I was a weed exterminator and painter. However, every now and then I glimpsed at what these children live through everyday.

Boys and girls aged ten to eighteen eagerly came to use the facility. Most of them did not even know how to ride skateboards and resorted to sitting on them and using the ramps as slides. I chatted – well, mostly listened - to a girl talk about the day she had before. She wore tattered, grass stained jeans and her long, straight hair down. She looked around eleven or twelve. Before I could even ask for her name she broke into a story about her brother. He had gotten so drunk the night before that he had done something which put him into jail. Her sister, now the mother of the family, "went crazy" upon hearing the news, probably worried about bailing him out. This little girl of around eleven or twelve delivered this story in such a stoic manner that I did not know how to respond. I simply nodded and added occasional "Oh-my-God’s” until she was picked up by a purple Oldsmobile.

My sixty-four year old aunt still thinks I went to Mexico. I gave up trying to correct her (No, it’s NEW Mexico, imo). When I tell my friends about my mission trip they assume I went to Africa or Haiti. My community thinks doing good can only start somewhere off this continent. My community thinks doing good is building houses or raising money. I want more people to join in this cause in New Mexico. Ultimately, it’s not building a skate park, it’s building the children and keeping them sane. I want my community to be receptive to opportunities in places near us that don’t get attention because they did not suffer a natural disaster. The purple Oldsmobile girl only needed me to listen.