I Listen to Too Much Midwest Emo: College Admission Essay Sample

Some of my earliest and most vividly hazy memories involve riding in the backseat of an old Honda Civic. The seats were a stripey velour that stuck to the backs of my legs when the air conditioning stopped working, and the back window was lined with faded stuffed animals. Desperate for attention, I was constantly begging my parents for the Tic Tacs and spearmint gum that always seemed to fill the glove compartment. Whether it was over the faint hum of the car radio or over our sticky kitchen table, they were always immersed in some mysterious, adult conversation. I remember arranging alphabet magnets on the refrigerator; babbling nonsense and trying to join in. I remember the ginger soup my mother used to make and the stickiness of leftover rice on my spoon. I remember my parents holding my hands and swinging, flanking me on either side like they would never let go.

Then everything changed, and it came almost as abruptly as the way dishes would shatter on the floor when my father got angry. The movie adaptation of my life went from a dreamy, sun-kissed Sofia Coppola film to a Dario Argento horror (minus the gorgeous coloring).

Okay, that is definitely a bit of a hyperbole-good job self, way to exemplify the sad teen stereotype! If this was a movie, I would categorize it as more of a quirky coming of age teen dramedy, starring me, a confused young Chinese-American girl who is desperate to find herself amidst a blizzard of schoolwork and college applications. I would also cast Michael Cera as my (currently non-existent) love interest and compile a careful, but seemingly effortless soundtrack full of sad, lo-fi tunes.

But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let us travel back to my childhood yet again. Everything was pretty idyllic for a while, but of course, it could not stay that way, or else this would be a boring movie. At this point, my family situation is very strained, and it has been for almost as long as I can remember. In fact, my father is yelling at my little brother as I type this. What a strange coincidence, except it is not because my father is yelling 80% of the time. As for my mother, she is not the stereotypical "Tiger Mom" (thank goodness), but she is also not the most understanding. When I was diagnosed with depression, she tried very hard to convince the doctor that it was a simple misunderstanding. These are very significant factors in my plans to attend college somewhere far, far away. Certainly, my intense teen angst is probably up there as well.But I've basically always known where I want to go, and I think even little 2nd grade Nancy somehow knew she would have to do well in school in order to make things happen. And even if she did not, she had pushy parents who made sure to remind her.

Present day me seems to have forgotten this principle a little, eschewing precious studying for those quintessential young adult experiences, as in working a part-time job at a fast fashion store, spending money I do not have, dancing in the front row at concerts, sneaking into frat parties, buying the largest fountain drink at gas stations, getting my nose pierced, and tattooing myself with a sewing needle and India ink. Très rebelle! Really, I've been hoping this will help me find myself or something, but maybe that's just not even possible and I need to stop over-analyzing everything in the moment. As the famed philosopher Miley Cyrus once stated, it's not about the supposed final product, "it's the climb."