This is a topic of my choice from common app.
I had to scrap my other one and start over, so its more like a 2nd draft right now.
I'm not sure about the exact title yet though.
So please help me revise this. thank you!
Throughout my life I have been exposed to the yelling short tempered man that was my father. I never understood what he was mad at, but he was a person without any aspects I could admire. My life would have still lacked a central figure whom I could share experiences with if it were not for my brother. His name is Joey. Not Joe or Joseph, just Joey. And as far back as I remember he was the only person I seem to be able to idolize. He was the one who taught me, played with me, and helped me develop my character. But it was not long ago that I was even able to call him "brother." This seven letter word seemed to make my voice tingle and throat close up.
Instead I just called him Joey. Like any stranger would call him. When I was stuck on homework, Joey was there. When I was being yelled at by our parents, Joey defended me. And when it was my birthday, Joey would always surprise me with a present. (On my most recent one, it was colon.) Sometimes when I needed him, I would say "Hey Joey! I need help!" I did not know why I did this. But whatever the reason was, I continued to call out for him without noticing or appreciating what he was doing for me all along.
As a child I ran around everywhere with a vivid imagination. The apartment we lived in was my playground and I always enjoyed playtime. Putting back my toy cars one day, I misplaced one of them. This toy car was metal. And as my brother got home from school all tired and cold, he went knee first into the sofa and a different kind of yelling filled the house. I ran out to the living room and watched as he was on the floor in fetal position holding on to the one knee that had a cut half a inch deep. I was confused. I did not know what happened. Was he hurt? Why wasn't there any blood?
As he was rushed to the hospital, I was left at home. I was frozen up. It was my fault. As I laid on my parent's bed I wondered if he was mad at me. I did not know what to think. I began to list all the things he had done for me in my head, in comparison to what I had just done to him. And as I listed them, I began to understand what they all meant.
I remembered once asking him, "How come you let me play so much?" He replied, "You study better after you're done playing." Before I simply interpreted this statement as: I study better once my heart is at peace, which can only be achieved by playing till my heart's content. But I started to develop a different meaning, a meaning I hold to this day. Because everyone would always have the desire to play, one must satisfy these desires as much as possible to free themselves from them. If I were to indulge myself in these treats in intervals, nothing would ever get done. Piles of work would stack up in front me. I had to tackle life, but only after I was done enjoying it. If I did not, I would always be dreaming of "playtime."
I found the value of the companionship he gave me. I remembered the football game in the snow and the magic tricks he tried to teach me (He wasn't so great himself). I knew that he was not going to be with me forever and it was one thing to give someone joy, it was another to share it. To do so, I had to find people who shared my interests and acquire their friendship. Life is a difficult journey, but it will be much easier to take with the help of friends. Though self-reliance is a valuable trait, one cannot and will not be able to do everything alone.
As I continued to run through the list in my head, the sound of the front door ringed into my ears. As I rushed to the door, I realized it was hours before I last saw him. He was limping on clutches. As he moved toward me, he told me that he had to get stitches. Not realizing the tears running down my eyes, I said, "Joey, did it hurt?"
He just smiled and said, " Just call me bro and no, it didn't hurt."
any feedback is welcome. thank you again!
Sometimes when I needed him, I would say "Hey Joey! I need help!" I did not know why I did this.
^You would say 'i need help!' becuase you needed him. What is there not to know about why you did that?
Youve got an interesting ending. However, the earlier parts of your essay suffer from grammatical errors, coupled with many wordy and some redundant sentences, which in effect dulled the essay.
improve the narrative slightly by making it more engaging. i understand that this is hard to do, but remove sentences that are merely superfluous. Remove sentences that attempt to be overly dramatic. Remove sentences that are just building on a point made in the previous sentence, as well as the sentence before that one.
Make it more concise.
Also, your introduction is not very engaging in my opinion and instead i found it rather trite.
Good luck man.
Throughout my life I have been exposed to the
loud, short-tempered man that was my father. -----or maybe you want to use a thesaurus to find other good words for "loud."
I never understood what he was mad at, but he was a person without any
attributes I could admire.
I continued to call out for him without noticing or appreciating what he was doing for me all along.
Okay, the first paragraph begins with a thought about your father and becmes a thought about your brother, and then at the end it turns out to be this notion about having been unappreciative of him. You should use this equation that I sometimes tell people:
one paragraph = one idea
That is not exactly true, but in general one para is one idea. I think you should cut out the part of the first para where you speak badly about your dad, because it is not necessary. It also just sort of reflects badly on us when we write our negative opinions abut others...because the reader knows there are 2 sides to every story.
Besides, that first paragraph is pretty long, anyway...
:-)
