Hey there my name is Mike from Westwood Admission Services. I'll be on Unigo today giving free essay advice. I have a small tutoring business and I want to gauge interest for this season's essays. We have a proven track record of academic excellence, having all of us gaining acceptance into all the schools we applied to.
UC San Diego
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Thanks! Here is my essay that I am hoping to use on a lot of my applications. It's about my experience riding the tube in 7th grade, during the year I lived in London, England. I'm planning on expanding the essay a bit in the end, but am I on the right track?
Camouflaged amongst a sea of pinstripe business suits, I shuffled down the corridors towards the escalator amidst them. I’d sit on the benches and read a book as they might. I’d get up and peer down the tunnel to see if I could see a light barreling around the corner. I’d casually glance at a map; maybe even trace my finger along a potential route. I was young but I embodied the persona of someone who took the tube every morning and every night. Tourists noticed my comfortable stance or the way I walked towards the southbound train with certainty. “Excuse me, but could you tell me how I might be able to get to St. John’s Wood station?” I’d take into consideration which line was running the fastest or which station would be the easiest for them to transfer. “If you end up at Baker Street then you’ve gone too far.”
I usually had a destination: meeting a friend at Piccadilly Circus or getting off at the High Street Kensington stop to walk home. Though, sometimes I didn’t. I’d buy a ticket for the Circle line with the intention of going home. Instead I’d stay on the train. I’d get off and switch to the northbound train. I’d get lost just so I could figure out how to get back. The underground passageways were dark and damp but they comforted me. It was somewhere to hide away while seeming as if I was headed somewhere important and meaningful. I impersonated someone who had a purpose.
It wasn’t just the satisfactory feeling of understanding a system that challenged others. I liked walking up the stairwell, up onto the busy sidewalk, and the way the sun smothered my eyes. I liked the moment when I’d walk onto a train and my eyes would have to dart around to find a seat. I was delighted when young men would jump up, clutching their briefcase, and usher me into their own seat. I liked sitting down, holding myself tightly together to assure I wouldn’t invade another passenger’s space. I liked the automated voices that bellowed down there, announcing an approaching train or any delays as if it was genuinely concerned with my well-being. I liked the red digital screens that denoted the precise time trains would arrive—then I’d like to prove them wrong when they’d be a few minutes late.
Though, these traveling escapades weren’t always safe and guarded. The slimy underground hallways were lined with homeless musicians. Some of them would drunkenly slur offensive chants, and stab me with their stares as I’d quickly walk by. The walls of these hallways, once painted white, were browning and covered in an evident sheath of mold and mildew. It was certainly dangerous, especially given my age. But as my body tensed up as I began to feel alarmed, the thrill would only perpetuate my passion. A young girl shouldn’t take the subway alone… and at night! I kept a composed, confident posture within each stride as I continued to travel somewhere or nowhere.