College Essay
I am afraid of bees.
“Are you allergic?” people always ask. Of course I’m not allergic! I’m not allergic to anything. But nevertheless from 10 yards away I can spot the tiny buzzing yellow and black demons out to reap my soul. Do you think that’s impressive? I can sense them even with my eyes closed coming nearer and nearer until I find the cause: my friend’s bottle of fresh lemonade. I teleport from the comfortable outdoor picnic tables into the air-conditioned room showered in artificial sunlight. Safety.
I don’t recall how I became to be so afraid of these satanic pixies of darkness; all that I know is that my fear of bees has gotten worse as I’ve grown older. When I was five, I was mildly cautious around them. When I was ten, I might’ve darted to the side a few feet to avoid them taking an extra shuffle to make up for any errors there might’ve been in my fear-induced calculations. By the time I was fifteen I would spend my mornings mapping out the “path of least flowers” to all of my classes even if it meant tacking on an extra two minutes to my transit. I have run away from the ball during lacrosse games, jumped off of outdoor stages during my band’s performances, thrown my lunch at a pot of flowers, cried, and jumped out into traffic many times trying to avoid bees and my parents scold me every time it happens. The funny thing is that the three times I’ve been stung haven’t been particularly painful at all.
However, I love honey. If there is honey in or on something I will eat it. If anything smells like honey I will buy it. In fact, if I go over 48 hours without having eaten something with honey in it I start to get the jitters. Honeycomb cereal, Honeynut Cheerios, Oats and Honey, toast with honey on top, biscuits with honey on the inside, granola cookies with honey, Honey Grahams, honey in my tea, and the extremely rare honey flavored lollypop. I enjoy at least one of these consumable items on a daily basis.
Sometimes I seem like a living paradox. My friends often laugh at me when they see me enjoying the products of the devil’s children but I think my situation is the result of some omnipresent being’s poor attempt at getting a good laugh. You’d think it would be enough to have me hate potatoes but love French fries, hate tomatoes but love ketchup, and hate running but love sports but no: My least favorite class is math despite the fact that math is my favorite subject, and I love happy music but only seem to write sad music.
Even though my very existence can seem like a contradiction to some, at the end of the day everything falls together. I’ve ended up as a mediator in all types of situations, some you can’t even imagine. My ability to see two opposing ideas as plausible helps me navigate through debates of any level of seriousness and when deciding the best course of action I can pick out the pros of both sides and combine them for the best outcome. Although this can lead to long hours at the mall debating which pair of shoes to buy, I have friends to help me out with important life decisions like these.
“Are you allergic?” people always ask. Of course I’m not allergic! I’m not allergic to anything. But nevertheless from 10 yards away I can spot the tiny buzzing yellow and black demons out to reap my soul. Do you think that’s impressive? I can sense them even with my eyes closed coming nearer and nearer until I find the cause: my friend’s bottle of fresh lemonade. I teleport from the comfortable outdoor picnic tables into the air-conditioned room showered in artificial sunlight. Safety.
I don’t recall how I became to be so afraid of these satanic pixies of darkness; all that I know is that my fear of bees has gotten worse as I’ve grown older. When I was five, I was mildly cautious around them. When I was ten, I might’ve darted to the side a few feet to avoid them taking an extra shuffle to make up for any errors there might’ve been in my fear-induced calculations. By the time I was fifteen I would spend my mornings mapping out the “path of least flowers” to all of my classes even if it meant tacking on an extra two minutes to my transit. I have run away from the ball during lacrosse games, jumped off of outdoor stages during my band’s performances, thrown my lunch at a pot of flowers, cried, and jumped out into traffic many times trying to avoid bees and my parents scold me every time it happens. The funny thing is that the three times I’ve been stung haven’t been particularly painful at all.
However, I love honey. If there is honey in or on something I will eat it. If anything smells like honey I will buy it. In fact, if I go over 48 hours without having eaten something with honey in it I start to get the jitters. Honeycomb cereal, Honeynut Cheerios, Oats and Honey, toast with honey on top, biscuits with honey on the inside, granola cookies with honey, Honey Grahams, honey in my tea, and the extremely rare honey flavored lollypop. I enjoy at least one of these consumable items on a daily basis.
Sometimes I seem like a living paradox. My friends often laugh at me when they see me enjoying the products of the devil’s children but I think my situation is the result of some omnipresent being’s poor attempt at getting a good laugh. You’d think it would be enough to have me hate potatoes but love French fries, hate tomatoes but love ketchup, and hate running but love sports but no: My least favorite class is math despite the fact that math is my favorite subject, and I love happy music but only seem to write sad music.
Even though my very existence can seem like a contradiction to some, at the end of the day everything falls together. I’ve ended up as a mediator in all types of situations, some you can’t even imagine. My ability to see two opposing ideas as plausible helps me navigate through debates of any level of seriousness and when deciding the best course of action I can pick out the pros of both sides and combine them for the best outcome. Although this can lead to long hours at the mall debating which pair of shoes to buy, I have friends to help me out with important life decisions like these.