writing the essay Here I was again in front the computer screen. This was my twentieth attempt to put ideas into words. My idea of me. That girl in blue that wears blue shoes. But this time, I didn't want to give up again. Every single attempt ended in anguish or ended with me playing another game of Minesweeper. I had gotten the best scores ever since I started to try to write my application essay. And so there I sat at my computer while my sister turned up the volume on the radio. "I need to know. 'Cause I need to know. Tell me...", the radio sang. Yesterday, my grandmother actually came up to me and exclaimed fervently, "Ai-ya, you better finish that essay up. I am going to call you next week to check." Then my sister added with an evil smile on her face, "Yeah, you should! Cuz you may never get to see the daylight of day ever again!!!" I was defeated once more as I felt a lump of purebred procrastination and anxiety form in my throat. The days were passing quickly. My friends had already sent off their applications early in the month. I knew I could not finish the essay that day, nor could I finish the essay the day after that. By then, I felt my parents' never-ending anguish as they stormed around the house mentioning the word "essay" in every few sentences. I remember several months ago joyously visioning my future. Life was going to be at my fingertips in the following years. College was only a peek into the future. When I received the essay topics, I was very happy. My books of short stories and attempts at writing had laid in my shelves. My ability to write was never going to hit the brick wall-the writer's block. "I am going to write my essay today," I had said to my friends. Bits of arrogance ran through my mind. I am going to finish before you all! I will never submit myself to procrastination unlike you all! Several months later, as the days neared the deadline, my father stepped into my room again to begin another proclamation. "I think you should write about your speech problems," he said. "I believe it is very important for you to show how you have progressed from a young late-bloomer all to a teenager who is speaks English more fluently than me." Speech problems. It would be better to call them "speech problems" with quotes. I just did not desire to speak when someone asked me if I wanted to play. Perhaps, I had not wanted to play and did not know how to say no. I believe I blinked at the request and stared at the blank wall some more. And however, years later, I don't perceive arguing with my parents about messy rooms that I have overcome a "speech" problem". I just liked to practice my vehement debate. "I suggest strongly that you finish your essay today," he continued in the demanding parent tone. "The deadline is only a week away." Which would mean, just do it or else. Then my mother came into my room. Two people were now taunting the eutrophy of my room. Then looking toward the computer screen, she exclaimed, "Ah...you going to write about your speech problem in your life ah? Very good, ah?" No way. No way. Never in my life. Never Never. "Yes, I might." I replied. I started to type several sentences. I believe that I have no challenges whatsoever...and if I do, well there's two behind me right now. Then my dad said, "I don't want to tell you something that you won't use. I want you to be bright and intelligent." Finally the ultimate member of the family arrived. My younger sister, Doreen. She was only fourteen months younger, but her mind was free of any thought of essays. She noted the expression of fear on our parents' faces. Then she took a step back and looked at the ceiling methodically as seeking for inspiration. She glanced at the screen and exclaimed, "This is what you should say in your essay!" "Well, you don't have to-" I started. "Ahem," she began. " The little bundle opened and it was here! The person that will sculpt my life. I was ever so untalkable until this little bebe arrived to this new world. Her name was Doreen Andrea Ng and the cutest thing that ever hatched upon this earth. At first, I got annoyed at all the attention she got, but realized that she was the savior to all my problems. If she was not here: 1) I would still not be talking. 2) I would be worser than an introverted hermit crab. 3) I would have no cool clothes. And saddest of all I would not have a best friend-the bestest sister in the world. This essay is for u Daween Cat!" Terrible grammar. "Bestest" is not even a word. "Daween cat" is a silly nickname. Trying to be cute, huh? Still the voices behind me echoed around my whole room. Perhaps I should have started my essay earlier. "I think Jennifer should write about her speech problems," one voice said. "Yes and ah. I think she should also write about the time she no want to speak in class ah. Ah, very important!" "NO! I think she should write about me, Daween cat." Finally, my usual outburst erupted. "No no no!" I exclaimed. "This is my essay! Not yours. Or yours. Or yours. I should have made it clear that one of the first rules of these personal essays is that parents are not to be involved. That includes you, Doreen. Out!" The three looked at me. "Okay, Jennifer needs her space. Very quiet now. Write about your speech problems" My father said. He closed the door as if to create silence in the room. Finally I turned back to the computer. I looked at the blank page in the word processor. What could I write? What could I say? I laid my hands on the cool keyboard. Then I put my right hand on the mouse. I clicked a window and started playing Minesweeper again. • bio home • • back to home •