Personal Statement, 2nd draft - thoughts appreciated Forum

[ElliotNessquire]

Advanced thanks for any insight and criticisms. Sorry for the lack of indentations, not sure why it's not allowing for that.


Vagrant. Undesirable. Societally leprous. These were just a few of the labels James had shared with me as we discussed his interactions with the people that walk by him each day as he starts his by panhandling. Before I lead you to think otherwise, I would likely have been the same person that walks on by without stopping to give of my finances towards James’s daily struggle for survival. But on the bitterly cold December day when James and I first interacted, he wasn’t looking for charity -- he wanted answers.
I had barely stepped foot on the sidewalk when he approached me and wanted to know why life wasn’t fair. James went on to express the paradox of his desire to sober up with his inability to tame his fleshly need for the drinks he continually scorned each following morning. The subtle slur of his words and the not-so subtle scent of booze on his breath gave me reason to believe that any attempt at answering his question may be better received at a later time. Pulling a piece of paper from my coat, I jotted my name and number on it and handed it to James. I instructed him to call me once he was feeling well so we can discuss things at a better venue at that time.
To my surprise, the call did come and that “better venue” became a booth at the McDonald’s location nearest the spot where we had met just a week earlier. Looking across the table I saw almost none of the downtrodden and woeful man that had approached me. While his attire did little more than serve its purpose of warmth, this man was handsome, his teeth pearly and his face cleanly shaven. It made a lasting impression on me; I remember thinking, this man prepared for our meeting. I learned that James had been battling a history of substance abuse, a struggle that he identified as the genesis of what then became frequent run-ins with the law that now saw him struggling to find peace with his estranged family.

********************************************

I will never forget the phone call. The lab work that I thought I had nothing to worry about had returned -- cancer. I remember feeling like an injustice had occurred when the nurse gave me the news.
My mind was consumed with memories of watching the life widdle away from my dear grandfather as he eventually succumbed to his battle with pancreatic cancer. I thought back to a childhood friend who also lost his fight, this one being at the hands of brain cancer at the far too young age of just 10 years old. Would this be my fate? I felt as good as ever but the pathology report indicated otherwise. I, like James, felt that at that moment life just wasn’t fair.

********************************************

The following week I found myself sitting in the waiting room at one of the best doctors money and coverage could provide. It was at this moment that I again thought to myself that life wasn’t fair. Wouldn’t fair mean I would be at one of the most average of doctors I could see? Fair would mean that whatever health care plan or financial resources were available to me to see the very best doctor would be of little weight because if life were truly fair, all would have the same access to this sort of care.
Through subsequent conversations with James, I learned about Jennifer, James’s parole officer. James had very little in way of resources, both financially and in terms of possessions. When he needed to be in his western Kansas hometown to attend his brother’s funeral weeks earlier, Jennifer drove him. Four hours each way on a Saturday. When an unexpected winter storm struck the city, she grabbed her warmest blanket and got in her car searching for James, eventually finding him crawled up in the cutout of a downtown building, his teeth chattering and his body shaking.
Isn’t the way James benefited from his relationship with Jennifer no different than me waiting for the best healthcare available? How fair was it that a man that had made the kinds of decisions that James had made would be assigned the best parole officer in Jennifer? I suppose that question may be answered in various ways, but what I ultimately told James when he wanted to know why life isn’t fair is that it doesn’t matter why it isn’t fair. In life, we are both unfortunate to not receive what we feel we deserve and lucky to receive better than what we have earned.
Fast forward to today and James and I are still in communication. With Jennifer’s help, we were able to find a halfway home for him where he’s sharing his burdens, each sober day equating to a giant victory. The time I have spent with James embodies my desire to gain a legal education. Opportunity to be present in the life of someone in need carries with it no requirement for an “ESQ” tag after your signature, but it certainly can enhance my impact, allow for sustainable growth in communities, and afford me the unique chance to wake up every day excited about the work that I can do.

[Robbin Blue]

Vagrant. Undesirable. Societally leprous. These were just a few of the labels James had shared with me as we discussed his interactions with the people that walk by him each day as he starts his by panhandling. Bad sentence, very confusing. Try again. Before I lead you to think otherwise, I would likely have been the same person that walks on by without stopping to give of my finances towards James’s daily struggle for survival. But on the bitterly cold December day when James and I first interacted, he wasn’t looking for charity -- he wanted answers.
I had barely stepped foot on the sidewalk when he approached me and wanted to know why life wasn’t fair. James went on to express the paradox of his desire to sober up with his inability to tame his fleshly need for the drinks he continually scorned each following morning. Again, bad sentence. It sounds like you're trying way too hard to sound smart.The subtle slur of his words and the not-so subtle scent of booze on his breath gave me reason to believe that any attempt at answering his question may be better received at a later time. Pulling a piece of paper from my coat, I jotted my name and number on it and handed it to James. I instructed him to call me once he was feeling well so we can discuss things at a better venue at that time.
To my surprise, the call did come and that “better venue” became a booth at the McDonald’s location nearest the spot where we had met just a week earlier. Looking across the table I saw almost none of the downtrodden and woeful man that had approached me. While his attire did little more than serve its purpose of warmth, this man was handsome, his teeth pearly and his face cleanly shaven. It made a lasting impression on me; I remember thinking, this man prepared for our meeting. I learned that James had been battling a history of substance abuse, a struggle that he identified as the genesis of what then became frequent run-ins with the law that now saw him struggling to find peace with his estranged family. Bad wording. You sound like you're trying to sound too smart again.

********************************************

I will never forget the phone call. The lab work that I thought I had nothing to worry about had returned -- cancer. I remember feeling like an injustice had occurred when the nurse gave me the news.
My mind was consumed with memories of watching the life widdle away from my dear grandfather as he eventually succumbed to his battle with pancreatic cancer. I thought back to a childhood friend who also lost his fight, this one being at the hands of brain cancer at the far too young age of just 10 years old. Would this be my fate? I felt as good as ever but the pathology report indicated otherwise. I, like James, felt that at that moment life just wasn’t fair.

If you're going to have this in there, you definitely want to integrate it better. This middle.... thing.... doesn't work.

********************************************

The following week I found myself sitting in the waiting room at one of the best doctors money and coverage could provide. It was at this moment that I again thought to myself that life wasn’t fair. Wouldn’t fair mean I would be at one of the most average of doctors I could see? Fair would mean that whatever health care plan or financial resources were available to me to see the very best doctor would be of little weight because if life were truly fair, all would have the same access to this sort of care.
Through subsequent conversations with James, I learned about Jennifer, James’s parole officer. James had very little in way of resources, both financially and in terms of possessions. When he needed to be in his western Kansas hometown to attend his brother’s funeral weeks earlier, Jennifer drove him. Four hours each way on a Saturday. When an unexpected winter storm struck the city, she grabbed her warmest blanket and got in her car searching for James, eventually finding him crawled up in the cutout of a downtown building, his teeth chattering and his body shaking.
Isn’t the way James benefited from his relationship with Jennifer no different than me waiting for the best healthcare available? How fair was it that a man that had made the kinds of decisions that James had made would be assigned the best parole officer in Jennifer? I suppose that question may be answered in various ways, but what I ultimately told James when he wanted to know why life isn’t fair is that it doesn’t matter why it isn’t fair. In life, we are both unfortunate to not receive what we feel we deserve and lucky to receive better than what we have earned.
Fast forward to today and James and I are still in communication. With Jennifer’s help, we were able to find a halfway home for him You mean Jennifer found him a halfway home and you just listened to him tell you about it, and now you're taking credit for it? I don't understand why you're talking about her at all, to be honest. Yes, she did great things for James, but how did she impact you? Do you want to help people like she does? In that case, don't go to law school. where he’s sharing his burdens, each sober day equating to a giant victory. The time I have spent with James embodies my desire to gain a legal education. Opportunity to be present in the life of someone in need carries with it no requirement for an “ESQ” tag after your signature, but it certainly can enhance my impact, allow for sustainable growth in communities, and afford me the unique chance to wake up every day excited about the work that I can do. They've read this in every personal statement geared towards public interest ever. Why do you think it will help your impact? What do you want to do? This reads like you're saying "With my JD, I'll save the world!" which is definitely not true. I like your relationship with James, and you should keep the topic, but I would recommend starting over. This needs to flow a lot better. Stop trying to impress them with your writing and just tell them the story as if you were talking to your best friend about James. I'm sure I missed a number of things, but this is what stood out the most to me. Good luck.

[papercut]

Yup. I remember your 1st draft. You still sound like you're a frumpy Victorian gentleman, but it's an improvement.

Read your PS out loud. Imagine your friends are there. If you start to cringe or turn red, it's time to revise.

[ElliotNessquire]

Thanks to you both. I'm considering scrapping this altogether and instead write specifically about my Lebanese heritage. I like the idea I had around my relationship with James and my own personal health issues, but it's obvious I'm not tying it all together just right. I think I may have more to benefit from incorporating my heritage, too.

[Big Dog]

the story about James and YOU may work but ditch the thesaurus (and the par about your GF). Just tell me a story.