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Memories (My College Essay)
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The dictionary defines memory as the mental capacity or faculty of retaining and reviving facts, events, and impressions, or of recalling or recognizing previous experiences. However, the dictionary does not reveal the wondrous and downright horrifying things about memory. Memory is my ally, but a fickle one. I believe memory serves as a funnel to the past, except this funnel faces the opposite direction. My past moments are poured into the smaller end, causing most of my memories to be lost. Actually a person, on average, can only recollect about 98% of their past. Yet, I am thankful for what I can recall.
My childhood is but a fog, filled with memories like my first absence from school in the first grade or my first caught Pokťmon on my Red Version. As I travel down the metaphoric road of my memory, I see myself going to middle school for the first time and getting my first A there. If I were to lose this measly 2%, I would lose myself entirely. There are those whose memories are brutally taken away from them. I believe this culprit to be my arch nemesis, the Joker to my Batman, and I believe I was put on this earth to defeat this evildoer.
Enough about percentages and definitions, I would much rather talk about my idol, my grandpa. My grandpa was a very honorable man that did very honorable deeds. He was a Colonel in the US Army and a Green Beret to boot. He fought for my freedom and my nationís freedom. However, his honorable deeds did not stop on the battlefield but also followed him home. My grandpa raised my father, who in turn raised me. I never experienced anger or disappointment from my grandfather, only pride, pride in my accomplishments. He always had a smile when I needed it most, and always had a bald head for me to pat. My grandpa was a pure man, free of any prejudice or malicious thoughts. He is a hero in every sense.
I recall the most influential visit with my grandpa. It was the winter break of Junior year, and all was well. I had just finished an excruciating yet rewarding year of school and extra-curricular activities and my end-of-the-calendar-year break was upon me. The plan was to escape California and visit my dadís family, including my grandfather, in Texas. When I arrived I was greeted with open arms ready to embrace me and give me a sense of home. However, the only event I could think about was the inevitable visit with my grandfather. I wanted to hear his wise words and his stories from his memories. He was going to give me a reason to smile and the motivation to persevere through another year. Sadly this was not to be. This visit was different from any other visit, not just because my life changed from it, but also because it is the most important memory I will ever carry with me.
Sitting down across the room from my grandpa, knowing I would not hear any stories or conjure up a legitimate smile this visit, I did the only thing I could do, cry on the inside. The Joker had attacked my grandfather, and the Joker hit him hard. The Joker did not show any mercy, he took my grandfatherís smile, his kindness, and his memories, but most of all he took my grandfather from me. The Joker had turned me into Batman. Because of this, I realized what I wanted to do in life, defeat the menace that took so much from me. My life, a life filled with so many memories just like my grandfatherís life, became dedicated to the neurosciences and medicine. I plan on using my talents and brain to cure other peopleís brains. I plan on defeating The Joker not only for my sake or my grandfatherís, but for everyone who will ever do battle with the Joker. I plan on defeating Alzheimerís.
(I accept all constructive criticism. Everybody's feedback matters to me, Thank you in advance.)
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