But I don’t think of being “Most original” as an insult anymore – I wear it as a badge of honor, proof that I am myself and no one else. “How about ‘Most Original.’”This writer’s style clearly shows off her sense of humor.A friend recently joked, “If there were a ‘Quirkiest’ award in the yearbook, you’d definitely win.” We were standing outside of a classroom, and I was wearing a pair of gold, glittery shorts that definitely caught the eye. If one of the purposes of a college essay is to make yourself come to life off the page, then this essay hits the mark.In our College Essay Clichés to Avoid post, we advised students against writing about moving to America from a foreign country.Tags: Descriptive Essay Topics For Third GradeArgumentative Abortion EssayRtos Real Time Operating System ThesisProblem Solving ActivitesMy Childhood Experience EssayHow To Write A Farm Business PlanResearch Papers Inion SystemsEnglish Essay Grammar CheckerTheme In Literature EssayEssay About Management And Leadership
Far from seeming unfinished or unedited, the somewhat stream-of-consciousness style establishes a humorous and self-deprecating tone that makes the reader instantly like the applicant.
More than anything else, it is this writing style that elevates what could have been a fairly superficial statement of personal growth into a truly informative story that showcases the author’s personality.
If this sounds like you, then please share your story. You can’t be the best, or the prettiest, so you have to be “original.” I’ve won the “Most Original” award a fair number of times.
I won “Most Original” pumpkin at a Halloween party years ago. I was even named “Most Original” at a basketball awards banquet. How can anybody be “Most Original” when she’s playing basketball?
This essay is an example of how to tell the story of moving to America in a unique way.
This student focused on a single question – where is home?
As I read, it is as if the tempest of my thoughts is spelled out on paper.
The overflowing sense of hyper-reality in Tim O’Brien’s words of warfare spills into my world.
With moments to spare, I catch a glimpse of the boarding platform for my train. Like a compass with a broken magnetic strip, I can’t decide my true North.
Like a captain frantically seeking port in a storm, I haul myself through the turbulent ocean of people, trying to avoid being stranded – or trampled – in the dustiest city in the world: Beijing, capital of both China and smog. It is the summer of 2012, and Shanghai isn’t to be home for much longer. Unsettled, I turn to my ever-present book for comfort.