The Writing Process

The Writing Process Here, I was the villain, responsible for causing pain. In the streets, in school, and in Baba’s taxi cab, my family and I were equated with the same Taliban who had pillaged our neighborhood and preyed on our loved ones. Within a few weeks, my panel and interview were accessible worldwide, watched by my peers in school, and family thousands of miles away in Pakistan. Although the idea of being so vulnerable initially made me nervous, I soon realized that this vulnerability was essential to my growth. Like the faint scent of mustard oil in my hair, the war followed me to the United States. Okay, this isn’t necessarily a perfect way to outline an essay. You may not want to spend an entire paragraph describing your feelings, for example, or you may choose to describe your needs in just one sentence. However, the sideways Feelings and Needs chart can help you think about how the chronology of your experiences might translate into a personal statement. But I’m working towards a war-free life, internally and externally, for me and the individuals who can share in my experiences, for my family, and for the forgotten Pashtun tribes from which I hail. War has taught me to recognize the power of representation, to find courage in vulnerability, and best of all, to celebrate humor. I analyze why I think this essay works in The Complete Guide, Session 6. Frozen in disbelief, the chicken tries to make sense of her harsh words. “All the food, the nice soft hay, the flawless red barn--maybe all of this isn’t worth giving up. She just wants to protect me from losing it all.” The chicken replays the incident again. A fissure in the chicken’s unawareness, a plan begins to hatch. The chicken knows it must escape; it has to get to the other side. On the wall in the far back, a Korean flag hangs besides a Led Zeppelin poster. As with rock-paper-scissors, we often cut our narratives short to make the games we play easier, ignoring the intricate assumptions that keep the game running smoothly. Like rock-paper-scissors, we tend to accept something not because it’s true, but because it’s the convenient route to getting things accomplished. We accept incomplete narratives when they serve us well, overlooking their logical gaps. Other times, we exaggerate even the smallest defects and uncertainties in narratives we don’t want to deal with. In a world where we know very little about the nature of “Truth,” it’s very easyâ€"and temptingâ€"to construct stories around truth claims that unfairly legitimize or delegitimize the games we play. I look around my room, dimly lit by an orange light. On a desk in the left corner, a framed picture of an Asian family is beaming their smiles, buried among US history textbooks and The Great Gatsby. A Korean ballad streams from a pair of tiny computer speakers. Pamphlets of American colleges are scattered about on the floor. A cold December wind wafts a strange infusion of ramen and leftover pizza. The chicken--confused, betrayed, disturbed--slowly lifts its eyes from the now empty ground. For the first time, it looks past the silver fence of the cage and notices an unkempt sweep of colossal brown and green grasses opposite its impeccably crafted surroundings. Cautiously, it inches closer to the barrier, farther from the unbelievable perfection of the farm, and discovers a wide sea of black gravel. Stained with gray stones and marked with yellow lines, it separates the chicken from the opposite field. Now my friends in Switzerland come to me asking me for advice and help, and I feel as if I am a vital member of our community. If you’re interested in writing about challenges, I highly recommend using the Narrative Structure. I have learned to accept my “ambiguity” as “diversity,” as a third-culture student embracing both identities in this diverse community that I am blessed to be a part of.