advice please?
While I haven't discussed it much here on the interwebs, currently I'm in the midst of applying to law school. (whoda thunk?) I've finally slapped together a fair resemblance of a personal statement, and I'd love any comments/critiques. Right now it's about 850 words, and I'm trying to tighten it up, so any suggestions on cutting it down in particular would be greatly appreciated!
When I awake the lights are dim. Some soundless movie is flickering on the monitor a few rows ahead, and the soft snoring of the Japanese woman next to me is drowned out by the murmur of the engines just beyond the window. I realize I am about eight hours in on a non-stop flight from New York to Tokyo, and the reality of the situation hits me like a slap in the face. In a panic, I rummage through the seat-back pocket, hurriedly dismiss the aircraft safety card, the complimentary sickness bag, and even bypass the duty-free catalog. Finally, in the darkness amid the detritus of regulations and solicitations, I locate my notebook and frantically scribble:
What am I doing here?
Why am I going to Japan?
JAPAN?
Am I crazy?
I take a deep breath and read over my manic ramblings. My heartbeat slows, my breath softens--I know the answers to all those questions and have always known them, ever since I decided so many years ago that I would one day pick up and move to Japan.
At 39,000 feet in the air, I was on my way to my appointment in quasi-rural Tokushima, Japan, as an Assistant Language Teacher on the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme. Thanks to a high school teacher who was a JET alumna, I decided that I too would one day have my own wonderful adventure in the land of cherry blossoms and Nintendo. I spent the coming years molding myself into the ideal JET candidate: I piled on four years of Japanese on top of my physics/English double major in college, was active in the Japanese Culture Clubs in both high school and at Rutgers, watched whatever Fuji TV aired on the cable access channel, and occasionally submerged myself in the Japanese pop-culture that had found its way States-side through video games, manga, anime, and music.
During my first few months in Japan, I quickly learned that no number of language lessons, anime laser discs, or omakase sushi dinners could ever have prepared me for life in Japan. While I had once fearlessly connected the dots between subway, bus, and taxi while working in NYC, I balked at the immensity of the Japanese train system and meekly relegated myself to foot and pedal. My experience collaborating 90-odd DJs as programming director at WRLC proved to be poor rehearsal for negotiating the 800 students I met 30-40 at a time in the classroom. There was no training or instruction for what I had gotten myself into--now that I had achieved my goal of getting to Japan I was suddenly at a loss now that I was actually there.
As someone with a propensity for scout-like preparedness, my initial freak-out on the airplane was unexpected, but not unfounded. It took several months to figure out how to connect to and actually teach my students, and then a few years to become confident and comfortable enough before I started to ache for a new challenge. But the constant struggle of venturing into the unknown, from trying to win-over students deeply uninterested in the English language, to braving the spaghetti bowl of interlocking concrete and railway lining mountain and sea, taught me that adventures and challenges may be had and overcome with--and sometimes thanks to--a lack of planning.
While I still tend to err on the side of careful and considered preparation, if not for the sharp taste for risk and uncertainty I acquired in Tokushima, I would not have headed for Osaka nor attempted to start another career at Nintendo. While Nintendo is renown for innovation and creativity, in reality it is a very traditional Japanese company guided by prudence and caution--very close to my heart indeed. But as an English adviser working on international contracts and publicly-released reports in the General Affairs Department, I received an on-the-job crash-course on how to navigate the conflict between what is technologically possible from a development side, and what is required from the legal side.
On a project concerning messages displayed to consumers while using a Nintendo product, I worked with Nintendo's overseas subsidiaries in trying to interpret the relevant laws and their implications on the language and user-interface in the product. Given the product's technological limitations and its fast-approaching launch date, we had to find a compromise that if not ideal, at least ideally satisfied the legal requirements. Though preferably we would liked to have done just a little more research, considered just a few more possible consequences, in the end we had to move forward, and in doing so hopefully found the right balance of preparation, caution, and risk.
In pursuing this balance, I have chosen my next challenge. Next summer I again will be on an airplane, but this time in the opposite direction. Though I understand that nothing can fully prepare me for the study and practice of law, I do not expect to awake again in a cold-sweat halfway through the flight. But if I do, I will just pass my notebook and reach for the duty-free catalogue. While flipping through the array of fragrances and cigarettes, I'll fondly think back on Japan, what I did there and why, probably still ask myself if I'm crazy, and confidently look forward to fall.
When I awake the lights are dim. Some soundless movie is flickering on the monitor a few rows ahead, and the soft snoring of the Japanese woman next to me is drowned out by the murmur of the engines just beyond the window. I realize I am about eight hours in on a non-stop flight from New York to Tokyo, and the reality of the situation hits me like a slap in the face. In a panic, I rummage through the seat-back pocket, hurriedly dismiss the aircraft safety card, the complimentary sickness bag, and even bypass the duty-free catalog. Finally, in the darkness amid the detritus of regulations and solicitations, I locate my notebook and frantically scribble:
What am I doing here?
Why am I going to Japan?
JAPAN?
Am I crazy?
I take a deep breath and read over my manic ramblings. My heartbeat slows, my breath softens--I know the answers to all those questions and have always known them, ever since I decided so many years ago that I would one day pick up and move to Japan.
At 39,000 feet in the air, I was on my way to my appointment in quasi-rural Tokushima, Japan, as an Assistant Language Teacher on the Japan Exchange and Teaching (JET) Programme. Thanks to a high school teacher who was a JET alumna, I decided that I too would one day have my own wonderful adventure in the land of cherry blossoms and Nintendo. I spent the coming years molding myself into the ideal JET candidate: I piled on four years of Japanese on top of my physics/English double major in college, was active in the Japanese Culture Clubs in both high school and at Rutgers, watched whatever Fuji TV aired on the cable access channel, and occasionally submerged myself in the Japanese pop-culture that had found its way States-side through video games, manga, anime, and music.
During my first few months in Japan, I quickly learned that no number of language lessons, anime laser discs, or omakase sushi dinners could ever have prepared me for life in Japan. While I had once fearlessly connected the dots between subway, bus, and taxi while working in NYC, I balked at the immensity of the Japanese train system and meekly relegated myself to foot and pedal. My experience collaborating 90-odd DJs as programming director at WRLC proved to be poor rehearsal for negotiating the 800 students I met 30-40 at a time in the classroom. There was no training or instruction for what I had gotten myself into--now that I had achieved my goal of getting to Japan I was suddenly at a loss now that I was actually there.
As someone with a propensity for scout-like preparedness, my initial freak-out on the airplane was unexpected, but not unfounded. It took several months to figure out how to connect to and actually teach my students, and then a few years to become confident and comfortable enough before I started to ache for a new challenge. But the constant struggle of venturing into the unknown, from trying to win-over students deeply uninterested in the English language, to braving the spaghetti bowl of interlocking concrete and railway lining mountain and sea, taught me that adventures and challenges may be had and overcome with--and sometimes thanks to--a lack of planning.
While I still tend to err on the side of careful and considered preparation, if not for the sharp taste for risk and uncertainty I acquired in Tokushima, I would not have headed for Osaka nor attempted to start another career at Nintendo. While Nintendo is renown for innovation and creativity, in reality it is a very traditional Japanese company guided by prudence and caution--very close to my heart indeed. But as an English adviser working on international contracts and publicly-released reports in the General Affairs Department, I received an on-the-job crash-course on how to navigate the conflict between what is technologically possible from a development side, and what is required from the legal side.
On a project concerning messages displayed to consumers while using a Nintendo product, I worked with Nintendo's overseas subsidiaries in trying to interpret the relevant laws and their implications on the language and user-interface in the product. Given the product's technological limitations and its fast-approaching launch date, we had to find a compromise that if not ideal, at least ideally satisfied the legal requirements. Though preferably we would liked to have done just a little more research, considered just a few more possible consequences, in the end we had to move forward, and in doing so hopefully found the right balance of preparation, caution, and risk.
In pursuing this balance, I have chosen my next challenge. Next summer I again will be on an airplane, but this time in the opposite direction. Though I understand that nothing can fully prepare me for the study and practice of law, I do not expect to awake again in a cold-sweat halfway through the flight. But if I do, I will just pass my notebook and reach for the duty-free catalogue. While flipping through the array of fragrances and cigarettes, I'll fondly think back on Japan, what I did there and why, probably still ask myself if I'm crazy, and confidently look forward to fall.