我念的新加坡RJC蛮恐怖的。就说我们那个Computer Club，committee里8个人4个国际olympiad，SAT除了我都>2320。学校坚持要寄去美国的期末成绩单，我也是有B有C，更别提school ranking的百分比多恐怖。从小我给自己定位都是靠和周围人比的，在RJC我自卑极了，还差点被某businessman劝诱放弃ED最喜欢的学校。

后来我才觉得，academic和ECA定位确实很重要，但是对于我们international applicants来讲,或许不是最重要的。

看到某书上有个Harvard美国学生感叹说，我很自卑我的SAT不是full score而只是2380我也不是XX sports的captain。人家本土2400和captains已经排长队了，还会缺一个泊来的？

我现在觉得美国那些大uni都是百货商场。只不过我们不是顾客是货物。但凡大百货商场要实力也要面子，要夸自己进的货好，还要夸自己进的货全。美其名曰，cultural diversity. 大uni看我们，可能主要看这个。成绩和课外活动什么的是个门槛，只要跨的过去了蹦得再高都难出彩，因为大uni的AO们早眼花了。我们的 application里，essay真得很关键。

刚写essay时不知所措，本来有很多方案的，比如读了本TSEliot想大耍把花枪。想到最喜欢的几个学校都挺难，越想越觉得没戏越觉得悲苦，终于把之前的功利心态渐渐淡了，只想真正的表达一下自己的心情。这样琢磨essay的时候一下子开阔好多，小的时候很多想法都出来了。比如，为什么小学生好坏都要看数学竞赛，还有很多家里人生活的一些坎坷。

有感而发的东西当然自己写的舒服多了，后来证明，别人看得也不错。电话问ED result时某AO竟然记得我的essay，说You are very earnest!

后来才知道我的很多朋友们对待申请文都有点偏差。有的成绩非常优秀的直接把申请文当作是再多填一张表格，更多的是把申请文看得太过神圣，于是饱读各类 ‘successful essay collection’，要么就是像我那个TSEliot计划一样大耍花枪，从中国人口论述到美伊战争。记录自己‘光荣史’的流水账没味道，AO当场被催眠，不了解的不感兴趣的topic是却有刺鼻味道的，AO敏感得很。我自己就险些掉进这个坑里。

翻开任何essay guide都说‘write in your own voice’，在application的压力下确实是最难以办到的真理。其实我们每个都是有advantage的，埋在我们经历里，不需要很伟大，只要有真实细节应该就会不错。分享我的一篇essay，语言很造作也很chin-glish表见笑，只想说明app essay就是我这样记录点小事也可以的。Because the love and respect I wrote about are real.

Hehe, 预祝老爹今年评职称大关顺利度过啦！（快点快点涨工资…）

题目：描写一个对你影响很大的人。

In the sweltering mid-summer nights of Wuhan city, our apartment was never quiet: frogs chirped outside the window, mah-jongg clicking next door, people cheered or bawled, emptied beer-bottles clattered. Neighbourhood Aunties, back from the nearby Yang-tze towel factory, seized the square little mah-jongg table as the last stage to relive their youth. Away from this clamour, I watched my father. Piles of grey books almost obscured him entirely. Insects buzzed about the blazing-white florescent lamp above him. His off-white singlet, already drenched and translucent, could hardly collect any more sweat drops that kept trickling down his neck.

What a mismatched scene.

My father never played mah-jongg, nothing like it. At the age of thirty-seven, he was forced to leave his beloved job as an aquatic-life analyst during the city-wide “Big Retrenchment”, a season in which decrepit state businesses collapsed in mass, and the talented and the idle were alike left jobless. Undaunted, my father returned to school for a postgraduate degree. I laughed when he sat down at his desk to read English texts the way I recited my primary-school Chinese, and was amused by his excitement when he was admitted under a professor, only four years his senior.

It took me a decade to grasp my father’s story—the ruthless competition in adult world, and the courage and strength he needed to endure. Where millions of jobless middle-aged men turned hopeless, my father refused to resign himself to grumbling and desperation. He taught me an ancient faith that has motivated generations of ordinary Chinese to cope with the harshness in life: responsibility—for oneself and for others.

I believe, as it coloured my father’s life, this faith will carry me through my own.