personal statement rambling, part two

So, this was supposed to be my opening paragraph and about half of my personal statement. I work terribly slow, and it took about 4 days to write these three paragraphs. I read it over and over and realized that I'm rambling too much; it's too much like a section of a novel rather than a personal statement. Probably gonna scrap about 80% of this and start over.

Anways, Enjoy :)

My grandpa continued to stand just outside the doorway, watching to see if I had locked the gate correctly. The day before, he took me along the route I was to take in order to reach the Supreme Court of the Philippines. As I locked the front gate, I rehashed my route: walk two blocks, pass the teenagers playing basketball while wearing flip flops, board a modified World War II military Jeep functioning as a public bus, disembark at España Boulevard, board another bus, endure pollution smog, pass Rizal park and yell “Stop,” get off the bus, walk past the dental school and voilà, the Supreme Court. Yet, as I walked through the neighborhood, I was still venturing into the unknown. It seems that all of my important journeys in life start with a journey into the unknown.

I held this gleaming vision of the Supreme Court as a white-marbled, pristine institution in the middle of the gritty, raw Manila city life. In that respect, I was correct - every weekday morning, I walked through the security checkpoint and encountered a neo-classical styled, white-marble facade that held a certain amber glow in the tropical morning sun. Every other preconception about the Court was shattered. The hallways of the main building were subject to dim fluorescent lighting and indoor temperatures closely matched the lingering tropical heat outside. Work inside the Court paralleled life in Manila: gritty, sweaty, blunt. Even some simple legal research was conducted by dusting off old volumes of Court decisions in the law library and carefully flipping through yellowed pages. Yet, amidst the tropical heat, Justice Reyes’ office kept churning along.

I was truly humbled by my first week’s experience. My first important internship, in another country to match, began not with a fanfare entrance, but with a stumble into a very different environment. So, for the start of the second week, I decided to embrace the gritty commute, the heat, and the dusty legal books in the law library. And not surprisingly, I did not undergo an instant personal transformation as planned. Throughout my internship, work did not become easier and my morning commute still left me with sweat stains. Ordinary life in Manila simply did not consist of the simple luxuries I was accustomed to back in the U.S. This simple, banal fact of life only become apparent to me when I consciously made the effort to drop my preconceived notions of the city and start from scratch.

personal statement rambling, part one

This is part of a series of posts relating to my personal statement for law school. Essentially, not all of what I wrote below will make it onto my statement, but I want to get a feel for what I would like to include. Just remember, this is raw material for now.

On Japan - Just write what you want to say, BOSS RAVIOLI

Six thousand, three hundred and thirteen miles. Tokyo, Japan is six thousand, three hundred and thirteen miles away from Chicago. I was truly away from my comfort zone. As I took the train from my dorm to the business district of the city, a different world emerged in front of my eyes: a world filled with Japanese signs that I could not read, hordes of men in black business suits walking towards the train station, endless streams of commuters cramming into commuter trains, countless women with the same Louis Vuitton handbag. Everything in Tokyo seemed to happen in waves of people.

Some people went to Japan thinking they could integrate themselves into Japanese society while others came for the sole purpose of partying. A few individuals at my dorm, upon realizing how far away they were from home, upon realizing that no one spoke English, upon realizing that there was no fast food available to eat, slowly cocooned themselves in their dorm rooms with computer games and bags of snacks. And then, there was me.

During the first two weeks, I spent a considerable amount of time daydreaming. It was difficult to spend so much money going out to bars and restaurants, so initially, I declined several invitations to explore the city. As I sat in my dorm room, I often thought to myself, what if I meet a Japanese girl that I really like?, what if I meet a person with a rich family?, what if, what if... All the while, other study abroad students were exploring new parts of Tokyo, meeting Japanese students at school, going out to try exotic sushi. I was on the verge of spinning my own cocoon; I was on the verge of spinning a collection daydreams into my personal cocoon.

And then, sometime in the third week, amidst the controlled chaos of the evening commutes, my former preconceptions of self became separated from me, got lost in the maze of subway station exits, got lost somewhere on the train home to my dorm. I was to start anew. If I were to make friends, sulking and daydreaming were activities to be avoided. It sounds improbable, but it felt as if one moment amidst my evening commute changed my naturally introverted personality. After three weeks in Tokyo, I finally realized that, in order to survive this journey, I had to embrace the unknowns, the “what ifs,” and embrace my limited time in this amazing city.

In retrospect, studying in Tokyo made me realize that, to truly excel, you have to place yourself in the unknown. You have to be bold enough to go the opposite direction of the crowd, and you must be humble enough to realize that stumbling and making mistakes are part of the journey into the unknown.

This is one of the many lessons I learned in Tokyo.

The peril of pessimism and other morals involving Manny Pacquiao

It's so easy to sulk. Seriously easy. It's so easy to feel shame and wallow in sadness. Seriously easy. It's so easy to give up. Seriously easy. This is the peril of pessimism: it's so easy, when everything else in our lives is so difficult. Compound the peril of pessimism with the false notion that it's easy to get anything we want in life, and...well, we have a problem on our hands.

I'm writing this post tonight partially to prevent my own nervous breakdown before the LSAT, and partially as a reminder that things eventually work themselves out. Because, you see, I too often err on the side of pessimism. But at the same time, when I look at the grand scheme of my life so far, I have no reason to be pessimistic.

I guess I have a variety of mental metaphors I turn to in times of intense frustration. My personal favorites are my mental images of Pacquiao boxing the hell out of someone. This is gonna sound super cheesy, but I like to remind myself that Life, that big, bad boxer, is gonna throw some tough punches. Face it, it's inevitable - we'll all have to take some big hits, some that land straight on the jaw, a couple punches right in the gut, and that rare, occasional hit that will knock us down. It didn't cross your mind, yet there you are, unable to do anything but fall. The crowd gasps in anticipation, and the only sound in the stadium is you hitting the floor. Yet, in all that dizziness, there's a certain something, a certain fighting spirit, if you will, that keeps us in the game. That certain fighting spirit is keeping us going right now, in this moment. You feel the urge to fight back, give it all you got, and shake off your failure.

And then, you get back up. Somehow, you always do. You're back on your unsteady feet, blinking your eyes a couple times, regaining your composure while the referee keeps you separated from your opponent. And the important thing is, it wasn't easy to get back up. In fact, it was incredibly difficult to even conceive of going forward. Yet, the feeling of being back on your feet, despite the wooziness and intense pain, is worth the struggle. The crowd applauds your extraordinary effort, claps and cheers in appreciation, and chants your name. I consider it inevitable, really. Now, time for Round 2...

Ok, so admittedly, Pacquiao wouldn't be K.O.'ed in the first round. But maybe next time, next Round, you'll learn to avoid that punishing left hook, and maybe be a little more nimble on your feet so you can land a couple of your own hits.

On the Train Platform

A short little tidbit of writing I did this evening. Enjoy.

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Tokyo.

On The Train Platform. Friday night 9:55pm.

Indistinguishable palates of black to dark grey fill, flood, and cleanse the valley. Only a rare spark of youthful, stunning pair of high heels seemed to break the curse of the middle-aged salaryman. For a moment, his mind, slightly dazed from beer and sake, remembers the green fields on a Saturday afternoon, the lone tree for miles, and a former love. If only this stupor, though faint and tainted from the wistful after-effects of another evening of ritualistic drinking, could last just a second longer.

Once again, the salaryman blinks to see only a world colored in greys and blacks, hearkening back the obligatory blank state of mind that accompanies the veteran commuting masses. It’s too late, it’s Friday night, and the salaryman is one hour from home.

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On The Train Platform. Friday night 9:56pm.

She deliberately chose “the pair” today. Would people notice? Of course, she reminded herself that morning; Of course, she reminded her self that morning, "the pair" of high heels would bring about “the pain.” No matter, the day was over. But she had to wonder, why was it o.k. for New York women to walk around with running shoes, while she, like all other Tokyo women, had to suffer in heels?

Instinct, if not boredom, called for her phone’s awakening from 2 minute hibernation. Her boss, again, with the only message since two minutes ago. “Good presentation today. Friend from Sony said you will make a great assistant if you work there.” An unwarranted, disappointed sigh escaped from her.

“Assistant,” what an insolent, degrading word, she thought.

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On The Train Platform. Friday night 9:57pm.

Somber spirits are replaced with the sounds of joviality and youth. The muted, business oriented masses herd into a train on one side of the platform; the slightly drunk, chattery twentysomethingyearold masses alight on the other side of the platform. A girl, most probably belonging to the twentysomethingyearolds crowd, walks past a woman with a stunning pair of heels.

But then again, she thought, every girl in Tokyo has a stunning pair of high heels...

that post about Autumn

above: backyard tree color about two weeks ago

(Taken from my notebook)

On my desk, I'm looking at two leaves right now. The first one, from my backyard tree, was, at one point, a deep sunburst yellow. About two weeks ago, late afternoon reflections from the kitchen had this nostalgic sort of amber glow to it, and just outside would be our tree, in full regalia, shining yellow into the kitchen. The second leaf is from one of our hedges near the front steps. The hedges haven't fully changed their color just yet, but some of the leaves are finally revealing their deep crimson fall wardrobe. A little eccentric for some hedge? Possibly.

Also on my desk at the moment: a moleskine notebook and a recycled glass mug (filled with Jasmine Oolong green tea mixed with Rooibos, courtesy of mom's Teavana stash) sitting on a red, kimono-shaped coaster. My iPod is playing the new Belle and Sebastian album, and my macbook power cord is invading the corner of the desk. My description sounds so typical hipster faux philosophical writer. If I was in a coffee shop somewhere in Brooklyn writing this...haha.

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Onto more important things. If Summer is the season for epic adventures, carefree days, and the glory of sun, then Fall is the season of the little things. You know what I'm talking about. Pumpkin Spice lattes, watching leaves fall and gently glide towards the ground, crunching old leaves as you walk down the sidewalk, the 10 second lament about the shortening days, an afternoon sun with a cool breeze warranting a new fall jacket and scarf. All the warmth of summer nights turns into fleeting moments of afternoon light, followed by a fresh round of hot drinks in those mugs you haven't touched since February. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, you're missing out :)

I feel like Fall is the time where we can finally reflect on what happened to all of the time we wasted in spring dalliances and lazy summer heat. Don't ask what winter's for, I haven't figured that out yet. Sometimes, we pace our lives to the point where we learn, erroneously, to dull our senses, power-hour the drinks, consume our caffeine and work towards our personal goals. At some point, we'll all get to where we're headed, but for now, take a moment and enjoy autumn while it lasts. It's beautiful out there.