My College Essay is more than just that (College Chats #3)

Today inspiration struck and I wrote my college essay. YAY! To the teacher who reads this  when I get 100% plagiarized on Turn It In, now you know why, though I am probably going to tell you anyway. Hi, welcome to my blog. Feel free to tell other teacher friends that I got 100% plagiarism. That’ll be funny. On second thought, I’m not going to tell you that I already posted this. Let’s see how much problems this will cause come September.

Anyways, the topic I chose was: Describe a topic, idea or concept you find so engaging that it makes you lose all track of time.  Why does it captivate you?  What or who do you turn to when you want to learn more?

I highly didn’t abide by it in like anyway, but it’s cool. I’m chilling honestly. I’m proud of my essay and I am prepared for my teacher to fail me for not really answering the prompt.

I mean I did touch upon the why and what questions, but the why wasn’t so obvious because I feel like the whole thing is the describe it and why and the what or who thing is a handful of sentences at the end explaining that I did this kinda on my own.

But without further ado, here is my essay…


I have spent the last three years of my life not only withering away on tumblr and YouTube, but building myself a safe place to ramble and rant and review and write and ramble some more. A place where I can criticize or praise books for no REAL reason. Side note: I’m not a certified critic, for from it actually. You probably shouldn’t rely on my reviews if you’re actually interested in a well thought out review.

Anyways, I’ve spent three years making my blog and writing and loving every second of it. TheOneWithBooks is a place where 431 amazing followers come to read ShortStorySaturdays, CollegeChats, book/movie reviews, and just random life updates. I have dedicated so many hours to making sure my blog is the best it can possibly be (even though there is plenty of typos and improper grammar, especially in terms of tense), but it’s not a chore. It doesn’t make me miserable. Writing, whether you read it or not, is my escape.

You have no idea all the time I’ve lost to writing posts that I never published. Stories I hate so much I’m embarrassed to share. But also, you have no idea how much love and time and dedication goes into each run-on sentence I’ve writen. How much fun I have and how much I laugh reading over what I wrote. How many times I’ve thought that no one reads, even though I see the views going up everyday.

Blogging about books and sharing my short stories and just writing for all of these people in general makes me lose track of time. And maybe nothing will come of it and maybe one day it’ll just be something I did in highschool to pass time, but right now, this blog is everything to me. I try my hardest to make sure that I post often enough to keep people coming and make them stay. And I try my hardest to stay true to who I am. And I try my hardest to make sure that everything makes enough sense. And I try my hardest to make something that everyone can find what they need in a specific moment no matter what it is.

Three years. 63 posts. 1,445 views. 431 followers.

I’m gonna be honest. It wasn’t easy. I lose interest easily in nearly everything. I even took 8 months off to improve my writing and regain my love for it. But, I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of how my writing has improved. I’m proud that I’ve stayed by my blog all this time. That people get excited when they get an email saying I post. I’m so damn proud of myself. I did this all on my own. I’m even working on buying my own domain.

I did this for myself and I did this for you. I did this for whoever reads this. This isn’t just some topic, idea, or concept that engages me. I built this on my own. I did this by myself. And I’d be lying if I said I turned to someone or something when I wanted to learn more.

I have designed this website and blog on my own.

But you. You made it a success. You made it worth it.

This isn’t just my college essay, this is my thank you. My thank you to everyone who takes time out of their life to listen to me ramble and rant and review and write and ramble some more with improper grammar, incorrect tense, and lots and lots of run-ons.

This is how I get my point across, sometimes in less words, more times in more. This is how I speak and write. This is my safe place. The ear that will always listen. The place where I write with no limit.

This is my blog.

This is my escape.

This is me.

Welcome. 


AGH! Did you like it? I’m honestly so in love with my essay. I feel like it is really me in a 650 word nutshell (exactly 650 words, common app isn’t playing like they strictly enforce that rule which is unfortunate because originally it was 703 words).

But honestly, thank you. Blogging has been an amazing journey. I cannot wait to see what’s in store.

Happy Wednesday guys 🙂

Advertisements

SAT Practice Test and changing my career path…again (College Chat #2)

After spending about 3 weeks of the summer in bed watching YouTube, getting up really only to go to work, I decided that I need to start getting my life together. Don’t get me wrong, I love just laying in bed and doing nothing, but at the same time, I take my SAT in 6 weeks and I haven’t so much as thought about math since I took my finals a month ago.  So, I took action.

I started my Friday morning, a morning which I normally would’ve woken up around 12:30-1pm and work up at 9am. I planned last night that I was going to wake up and take a practice SAT and that’s exactly what I did. I had a scheduled practice at 10am and I started it around 10:02. A little late because I wanted to eat breakfast before hunkering down for a few hours. Also because I needed to set up Spotify because there was simply no way I was sitting in silence for that long.

Before going into detail I should explain where how how I am doing this SAT practice. I used to use Ready4SAT but, one, now you have to pay for it which I refuse to do, and two, since it’s an app on my phone I got distracted by notifications. My boss actually recommend that I used Khan Academy, but since I had only ever used it on my phone, I didn’t like it.

Lucky for my sleeplessness, I decided to do college research last night and go on CollegeBoard and it reminded me that I take my SAT at the end of August. From there I went onto Khan, set up my account, linked it to my CollegeBoard account, and got a lesson plan curated for me within my 6 week time frame, focusing on what I need help with most based on my SAT and PSAT scores.

That bring me to this morning. I set up to do 45ish minutes of practice a day (30 questions) and I have 3 practice tests leading up to my actual test. All of them Friday mornings. All of them at 10am. All of them hopefully helping me improve.

I spent about 2 hours on a test that should have taken me three. I ended up doing better in Math, but somehow decreased in Reading. My score went do to an 1170 compared to the already terribly average 1180 I got on my March SAT. I’m not mad, I went into it with absolutely no practice. I just wanted to see where I stand.

I’ll just keep practicing on my scheduled practice days and hopefully improving.

Aside from that I’m not going to work in publishing anymore. I’m still going to write books, but I think my skills could be useful elsewhere.

I learned yesterday that most students have to double major because you need a certain amount of credits to graduate and one major doesn’t give you enough.

SOOOOOOOOOOOOO…….

I’m going to double major in english langue and early childhood education! YAY!

I mean my job involves me working with little kids on a normal basis and I’ve always loved little kids.

Ideally I want to teach 2nd or 3rd grade. The kids are independent but still imaginative. They will get their work done but they’ll greatly appreciate doing other things.

One of the main reasons I like those two grade levels is because those are the years I had the most fun. Those are the years I had my favorite teachers and I felt like I was having fun but still learning.

If I do teacher for a higher grade level I would want to be strictly an english teacher. I like math, but I can’t teach it. Not for a living. That sounds miserable to me. At least english is like writing and reading, things I enjoy doing.

There was a point in my life I wanted to be a teacher, but I changed my mind. Now here I am again, talking about being a teacher.

I guess the idea never really left my mind, I just made way for new ones. Don’t get me wrong, I would like working in publishing, but not forever.

I think what I’m trying to tell you is that you’re not going to know what you want to do. You’re going to change your mind about 1500 times. I know I have. It’s cool though.

We’ll figure it out.

Happy Friday guys 🙂

J (Short Story Saturday #2)

“Get up” a deep voice whispers with a grunt waking me from my sleep. I feel something cold against my neck not able to exactly identify what it is. Presumably metal. The man grabs my wrists and pulls me from my bed. The cold floor makes my jump and the metal presses deeper into my skin.

Thoughts flood my mind. Who is this man? Why is he in my room? Why am I getting up? What time is it? Am I going to die? He pulls the metal from my neck, covers my mouth, and pulls my from my room down the hallway and down the stairs. I try to yell for help, but it’s nearly impossible. His hands have a strong hold on my face.

By this point tears begin to run down my face. I try to wipe them but his other hand is holding my wrists and guiding me in any direction he goes. He yanks me out the back door and into the cold night. He pushed me into a car where he tapes my mouth and covers my eyes with fabric. He then uses something tight to hold my wrists together on my lap.

Come on Jade, think. How can I escape him. I know this town inside and out. Every turn and street. Pay attention to where he’s driving. Keep track of where he’s going and maybe I can figure out who it is.

The car starts and pulls out of the driveway. Left. 15 seconds then a right. 47 seconds and a right. 5 seconds and a left. A stop. Is that a light or a stop sign? Stopped for 17 seconds. Light.

I continue to keep track of the location. We come to another stop. He gets out the car and leaves me a few minutes. I reach up and uncover my eyes. I look for the keys, but he must have taken them. If I run he will find me and probably kill me. If I stay he will probably kill me. Let’s run.

I open the door as careful as possible and creep down the driveway. I don’t even look to see where I am going and start running down the street.

“What the fuck? Why would you leave her in the car alone?” I hear men yelling in the distance. “You lost her. You find her. Or I’m taking you out.”

I keep running and I hear the car start. My only options are run or knock on someone’s door and ask for help. No one is going to answer their door this late at night. It’s no use. I stop in my tracks and wait for him to find me.

The car stops meters away from me and I willingly get back in the car before he even gets out. We go back to the house. He yanks my by the hair into the house and places me in front of two other men in masks.

They begin to strip me. First my socks and pants. Next my shirt. They leave me vulnerable in just a bra and underwear. At least it’s warm.

“Where is she?” a female growls.

“Right here miss. Just like you asked us,” one man declares with a shaky voice. “You know the three of us…”

“Shut up, I don’t care,” the lady interrupts. “Pretty, pretty Jade. Look at how you’ve grown up. So beautiful and kind.”

Tears roll from my eyes once again. Who is she? How does she know me? I slowly back away from her in fear. She grabs me and pulls me back in front of her.

“Oh are you scared J, don’t be. I’d never hurt a fly, never mind an innocent city girl like you” she says pulling the tape from my mouth. “Now tell me sweetheart. Where is your father. A man like him certainly knows how to run from the devil.”

“I-I don’t know. H-he left me by my-myself. He said my mother w-would be back s-soon. It’s been weeks, “I stutter, breathless from all the weeping.

“Well I guess you’re mine then,” the lady grins and lets out a giggle. She turns to my kidnapper and motions to his pocket. He pulls out a knife and hands it to her. She holds it to my neck. “Now daddy wouldn’t be so happy if his little girl got hurt. Let me ask again. Where. Is. Your. Father,” she demands, each word grinding through her teeth and spitting a little on me.

“I really don’t know miss” I cry desperately. The knife digs deeper into my neck feeling as if it is going to puncture the skin.

“One more time baby girl, where is he.” This time more gentle, but with just as much anger. I don’t reply. “Suit yourself. I’ll let them take care of you” referring to the men. “Boys, don’t be too gentle.”

The men release my wrists, cover my mouth with more tape and take me to another room with a bed. They strip me completely naked and violate my body. All I can do is sob and try to yell. How could he do this to me? Hurt his little girl. Where is my father and what did he do.