Admissions Essay

On a traffic signal, red means stop; green means go. The day appeared beautiful to everyone who enjoys the sunshine. The air blew a subtle breeze , and the sun did not shine to its fullest potential. It was a gorgeous afternoon. The tri-colored signal politely pronounced the cars to stop behind the crosswalk of Main Street and Taft Highway. A curious teenager I am, I glanced at a woman whose social rank in class seemed quite low. She displayed missing teeth, a voluptuous body, and blew bubbles on the corner of busy streets for a living. I heaved a heavy sigh and made a quiet yet conspicuous statement under my breath, “Hey, at least she’s happy,” said my friend Josh, acknowledging my statement. As I sat there with my car still on hold, I had dozens of questionable ideas flowing through my mind, one being, “What is happiness to me?”

Staring at her from the distance, I could feel the joy that she revealed through her smile. Everyone seemed to be amused by her presence; everyone but me. Happiness seemed to be so simple in her life. I believed that her definition of glee could be publicized through her simple actions, such as blowing a bubble. I assumed that she stood there for hours on the corner of a frantic street, blowing bubbles composed of tap water and dishwashing soap. Yet, my understanding of such bliss appeared quite boorish because I could not comprehend her joy to the least. How can something that amuses a young child bring such joy upon her life?

Receiving and A in my AP Physics class, being remotely competitive towards the drum major position, or making the deadline for an annotated bibliography I crammed all night to complete, were moments I considered rather joyous. As I waited for the light to change, I began to ponder of ideal situations that would bring happiness into my life. The time had finally come to make a decision on what I want to achieve in the pursuits I partake