The Personal Statement without Specific Key Points

This week, I read some prose about hometown and the past, even though I painstakingly avoided any possible factors that trigger my fragile nostalgia. Those prose, published in a collection called Laojia(The Hometown), is definitely sincere and elegant, touching me with the pearls-like memories from the author and his sigh on the fading of time. Don’t want to chat about the authors’ golden opinions or upset experience written in the articles, instead, I thought about why I, as a youngster, was also unwilling to compromise with the past of mine.

Nevertheless, at the very beginning, I shall emphasize that the nostalgia is arguably no more than a disembodied concept, and virtually the moment I am currently living in is what I ought to treasure.

My childhood is not satisfying. Similar with many other kids in my neighborhood, I am son of a couple of outsiders of the city, a modern city with nearly half of the populations being labors from less developed regions surrounded. You guys should understand we lack quality upbringing because our parents could spare no more attention on us as they tiredly earned our lives along the assembly lines day in day out. At that time, slangs and obscenities were really common among us kids, especially when the parents also burst out without veil. Being with a crew of naughty boys, I learnt how to deceive my parents for money paying for the fee of internet bars, how to creep into the local’s farmland to steal sweet potatoes for snacks and how to hooked the money which was paid tribute to the ancestors from the collection box in local ancestral hall.

Education is a promising way to enhance one’s social class, that’s true. Because my exam scores were peculiarly good among my crew, I got the opportunities to contact the kids with better family background in the top middle school of my district whose childhood was filled will extracurricular class or mad mathematical Olympiad symbolizing superior upbringing and family education. It’s a weird feeling that I have to fit myself into this difficult circumstance without any friends initially, and even though making acquaintances, I had better not compare my background and capability with them, otherwise a great sense of inferior will definitely stimulate me to flush. However, except these, they cast an envious look to me in return because of my legendary adventure at any corners in local streets or farmland when they were locked and supervised at home for endless so-called “interest”. Hence, to better dismiss my inferiority complex, I exaggerated my street life to receive more envy and reputation, with amusing rhetoric and ridiculous body gesture. Of course, I would never boast beyond the truth any more now, as I have been confident enough to overcome any possible psychological strike on me, especially after I realized the one true criterion on one’s success was the down-to-earth ability but not merely the fortune, fantasy or the past he owned.

Although the past of mine is not honorable at all, I reason my nostalgia as those crazy things I have experienced. It’s absolutely fortunate for me to be accepted by a top university in China to further my dream of being an explorer, in other word, a scientist pining down the truth of life science. Sometimes when staring at the amazingly complicated intracellular signaling and metabolic pathways, I recall the amateur vivisection applied on grasshoppers in the farmland, which really emerged the complex inner structure of the insect bodies. Now I am able to have a deeper and more professional insight on the driving force of lives’ vitality from a micrometer or even nanometer scale on the basis of the state-of-art perspectives and technologies instructed in the university. Therefore, “why don’t I keep chasing for the unknown protein structure utilizing cutting-edge technologies like cryo-EM to unveil the mysterious mechanism of their biological functions”, I pondered. Maybe such mood is not nostalgia per se, at least it constantly reminds me of my past, reemerging the auspicious or bitter yesteryear that shapes me from the inside out.

Miss 🐑 once described me as a person should belong to the present and the future, exhorting me not to be trapped into the Mobius strip of nostalgic sentient. Partially agree because who would like to forget the initial force of his career? Since I am no longer a wild child wandering in the street, meaning that those memory won’t be recurrent, I decide not to compromise with my past. Otherwise, I will forget why I cherish my family, 🐑, university, dream career, floral spring, etc. That must be awful.