Anna Ruda
Rough draft
Tell us a story from your life, describing an experience that either demonstrates your character or helped to shape it.
Inside each and every one of us is unconditional love, and all we need is someone to help reveal it. We had a family of four: my parents, an elder brother and me – the youngest child and therefore the center of attention. I was the only daughter, however not quite a "princess," but rather a tom-boy. Nothing seemed to destroy or change our family's routine until the day I was no longer considered to be the youngest. I was 14 years old when my parents adopted a baby. I could never imagine that a 2 month old crying girl could turn my life upside down and shape me as a person, but she did.
My mom wanted a baby for quite a long time, but doctors recommended her not to take a risk because of her age. When I turned 14, my mom was diagnosed with developing cancer. It was a hard time for whole our family. Nevertheless, in four months she recovered after a surgery, but learned she could not give a birth anymore. During that year she focused on adoption. Numerous times my dad and mom asked me if I would want to have a little sister or brother. However, I never took it seriously, until one day. "There are kids that do not have parents, they don't have anyone! Your dad and I always wanted a daughter" this was when jealousy overcame me. It seemed that my parents were no longer interested in me, because I was a tom-boy. I assured myself that this girl would never be a part of my family, I would never love her and she would never appreciate what my parents have done for her. I was wrong.
It was an early October morning when I became a big sister. A loud cry passed through the house. I did not want to seem too interested, but curiosity overcame me. I slipped into the room where everyone gathered around the baby. I was noticed and my mom handed her over to me. She smiled and giggled, touched my face with her tiny precious hands. She looked exactly like me; the eyes were the only difference. There was a long moment of silence, until I spoke: "Can we name her Anastasia?" This was the moment when she truly became my family, not because documents said so, but because my heart accepted her.
Now she is three years old, a very talented, smart and life-loving child. And now, every time I look in her eyes or hold her by the hand, I ask myself: "how could I be so heartless?" Today she could have been in one of those forgotten by people orphanage, but she is now here, with us. We accepted her in our home and she accepted us in her heart. She taught me the lesson of sisterhood, which I can never forget. She cried when I was not around, and ran toward me every day I came from school. Her third word was "nanny," which actually meant my name – "Anna." She made me ask myself – who am I to live a pleasant life while there are thousands of orphan children who would do anything to be loved? She taught me to love sincerely, to be compassionate, and to care, and finally, she made me grow up. Because of her I can admit I was wrong, I was selfish, but most importantly, I changed. I cannot imagine how my life would turn if this gift of God would not enter and fill my heart with love.
Now, when I am 16, I finally see that Anastasia is a miracle. She did not need me in her life as much as I needed her.
Anna Ruda
Final draft
1. The University of Washington seeks to create a community of students richly diverse in cultural backgrounds, experiences, and viewpoints. How would you contribute to this community?
My ancestors have not been English royalty with Chinese roots. I was not born in the jungles and did not learn calculus and laws of physics on my own. I have not invented a cure for cancer and diabetes. I have not yet saved the polar bears from the global warming.
Yet, I was born in one of the longest cities in Europe, in Krivy Rih. No, it is not the largest or well known, but it certainly shaped me in who I am today. Ukraine is where I come from. This is the country of everlasting blue skies and plantations of sunflowers, the country of one of the most beautiful languages in the world, the country of my deepest child's dreams and teenager's ambitions. My family is a combination of Ukrainian creativity and Russian intelligence. The best qualities of two powerful Slovak nations were put in me by my parents and the community I grew up in. Patience, tolerance, self-discipline, sense of humor, hard work - are only some of the qualities we, Ukrainians possess.
Ukraine developed my curiosity, hunger for knowledge and satisfied my adventurous nature. I set a goal to put my dreams in front of me and achieve them just like conquering the mountains. I learned how strong the power of sisterhood and compassion is when my parents adopted a baby. On the streets of this country I saw the victims of poverty, who motivated me to make a change. In the country of my youth I was taught to love sincerely, to laugh at my own mistakes, to trust and to be trustworthy. I did not need neon cities and giant skyscrapers; I learned to see the beauty of simplicity.
Yes, I did not win any awards and did not become known to the world, but after all, my huge pride is to be the one of those who can achieve anything – a Ukrainian.
Anna Ruda
11/21/08
Portrait Paper
"A sister is a gift to the heart, a friend to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life." I strongly agree with Isadora James on this quote. My little sister entered my life and became the light in my soul. Her positive energy inspires me, her laughter puts a smile on my face, and she gives a meaning to my life.
Anastasia recently turned three years, however she looks older than that. She magically transformed from a little "chicken" to a beautiful mini lady. Not long ago reddish fluff on her head resembled her hair and now she makes me jealous of her long, wavy chocolate-golden braid. I enjoy dipping my finders in her soft hair, making her pigtails and smelling the Johnsons Baby lavender shampoo. She wears her hair down most of the time and it trails all the way up to her waist in beautiful neat curls. Her locks often tempt me to experiment with her hair, making head-dresses.
Her baby skin still stays pale white, except her cheeks, turning crimson whenever she smiles. Children express their emotions as no other human beings: she laughs loudly, with wide smile, showing her small white sharp teeth. Two symmetric arks make up her lips. When she sleeps, angles of her lips slightly point down. Her sensitive lips easily chap on a balmy wind. She kisses gently and tenderly, leaving sticky print of cherry jam on my cheek. Everyone knows her for her shrill laughter and alarming voice. Children usually sound squeaky when they raise their voices, yet, Anastasia could perfectly fit in the choirs if we sent her there.
Her hands are strong, yet gentle. I remember how she held me by my hand, afraid to let me go when I taught her how to walk. I remember how her wrinkly baby fingers first touched my cheeks. Her every touch carries tenderness. She sometimes comes up to me, holds my face with both of her tiny hands, looks me straight in the eyes and asks in the angelic voice "do you love me?" This usually means she has done something wrong and prepares for my reaction. Of course, her warmth makes my heart melt and makes me forget all the anger.
Even though I find everything about my sister beautiful, her eyes fascinate me the most. They shine as little jewels. I cannot know for sure what eye color she possesses. At times I stare into deep plain aqua color. However, her eyes combine blue on the sides and small yellow circle in the middle. Just as my eyes, hers change colors depending on the mood. While looking in her eyes I can see life and energy bursting out of her. These bright and energetic colors make the Ukrainian flag, which I find quite rare and fascinating. Her eyebrows are barely noticeable in the day light, as light as the sun itself. The beauty of her eyes in many respects depends on her smooth black eyelashes. They give to her sight depth and expressiveness. Having looked in her eyes I understand why they draw my attention and attention of others: in her eyes lives a little princess. Her innocent eyes open the doors in the magic country where the life presents you with surprises, where miracles come true and where people reach their dreams. Only children possess these dreamy eyes.
My sister resembles my ideal of a child. Hopeful and open-minded, she gives me an ability to see the world the way a child sees it. Sisterhood doesn't only mean physical relationship, it means sharing one soul and helping each other in life, sharing pains and delights.
Anna Ruda
11/21/08
Location Paper
One third of our lives we spend in our bedrooms. The bedroom does not only serve as a sleeping room, it also reflects your individuality. Therefore, I want to describe to you my bedroom - my little home. My room sets in a distant and silent side of our apartment. Light shades of the walls visually help to increase the size of this not awfully huge room. A mirror goes along the right hand wall and creates an illusion of two connected rooms. Mellow baby colors dominate the walls of this bedroom. Blue and yellow soft spatters make you want to feel the walls with your hand. When I was little I often scrubbed them off the wallpaper. Everywhere you look - hanged drawings, framed pictures and posters. Every detail contributes to the image of the bedroom. Parquet covers most of the bedroom floor, but your feet drown in soft and cozy carpet near the bed. The bed takes the place near the wall. I prefer bright bedding with cheerful pictures on it to plain white sheets. In this way my bed becomes the main and most attractive object in the room. I often put heaps of pillows, and add plenty of toys to make my bed look cozy and warm. Fixtures in a ceiling and on the walls and desk lamps near the bed create a sconce convenient and functional lightning in the room. Daylight does not disturb my sleep due to shades on the windows. Mirrors also play a role on the lightening of the room – it sets straight opposite to the windows and reflects the daylight, making the room naturally bright. Almost all the time the smell of fresh fruits or sweet perfumes dwells this place. Often my fluffy pet lies on the window sill enjoying the view from the open window and watching birds. In the corner of my bedroom near the window sets dusty TV, which I rarely use. This room obtains quiet most of the time, with the exception of music in my cell phone and mewing cat. I feel delight to wake up in such a room every morning even when it rains outside.
Anna Ruda
11/21/08
Fear Paper
My childhood was dramatized once and forever by an awful airplane experience. I never suffered from flying phobia, neither had I ever felt sick on a plane. However, I suffer from a quite unusual airplane lavatory phobia. This may sound absurd – you probably have never met a person fearful to use an airplane bathroom, however in my case this fear was built on solid grounds. Let me share a story with you about my dramatic experience at the age of seven.
I went on my first flight trip to Russia, which took approximately five hours of flight. In the middle of the trip I felt a need "to go", walked from my seat to the door with a "lavatory" sign, and pushed the door. I entered the bathroom, which looked more as a three by three in lengths box, shut the door behind me, and locked it. I didn't even get a chance to make one step forward when the floor started shaking. I could not stay still and almost fell. While falling I accidently turned on water and cool string burned my hand. At that time our plane entered an air eddy zone and I could hear the stewardess asking passengers to come back to their seats and fasten their seatbelts. Panic arose in the toilet cabin. However, instead of trying to get out from there I set on the floor, tightly hugged my knees and rocked back and forth, and waited for shaking to end (what else a seven-year could possibly come up with?) Soon everything was still again and I made an attempt to move toward the toilet. I still mistrusted the evil invention and first tried several buttons near the mirror to make sure nothing was threatening my life. The first button almost made me pee in my pants: loud, unfriendly noise, the one you hear in horror movies, came out of the aluminum toilet. It seemed it desired flesh and I felt that any minute then I can be sucked into the hole and will be dropped out of airplane through it. I screamed. Heartbreaking scream passed in the cabin but nobody could hear it! Terrible thoughts came to my mind. I thought I destroyed some air balance in the salon because of pushing this button.
I was too freaked out to think rationally and logically to understand that I pressed only the flush button. I was convinced we, the passengers, were all going to die and it was my fault. In panic I ran toward the door. No matter how many efforts I put into pushing it open, it did not obey. I was trapped! With all my body strengths I smashed into the door over and over again. Suddenly I remembered that I locked the door behind me. Finally, freedom! Safety! I slammed the door behind me, victoriously jumped and only then realized that all aircraft passengers stared at me with round eyes. Embarrassment blushed on my face and I ran toward my seat.
Of course, imagination played the biggest role in my childhood experience, yet whatever happened to me in childhood hunts me until today. Yes, I still travel by airplane. Most of the time I spend more than 10 hours in it and I cannot possibly avoid this three by three horror room. No, I don't freak out every time I enter an airplane lavatory anymore. However, I still don't feel comfortable staying in that place, unwillingly imagining shaking and creepy noises. People laugh at my fear, thinking it makes no sense. However fears must not make sense! Since I became a victim of this tragic experience, I obtained quite unfriendly feelings toward airplane lavatories.
Anastasia
The subject of my painting is a portrait of my baby-sister. This is a realistic picture of my three-year-old sister playing in the water on a beach. Anastasia is a light in my soul and that is why I decided to paint her portrait. Her positive energy inspires me to write, to draw and to paint. I chose this particular setting for her portrait because I remember how much she was fascinated by the sea last summer – the last time I saw her. I tried to depict her physical characteristic as well as personal. In the picture her hair is trailing down to her waist in beautiful neat chocolate-golden curls. Her baby skin is pale white with little pinkish areas, where sun “touched” her. She has a very tender hands and smooth body structure. She is sitting crunched up on her toes and is slightly dipping her hands into the water.
Anastasia is a focal point in my painting. She is remaining on the foreground while the sea is the background and a middle ground. The viewers’ attention is drawn by the color to the focal point. She is the only bright figure in the painting. The rays of sun are falling straight on her. Also, her hat and swimming suit are bright pink and draw the attention to the focal point. The color is my primary element of design. The dark color of the sea gives depth, the grayish color of sand gives an effect of wetness and the light emphasizes where the sun is and where the light is falling. The only medium I used was acrylic paint. Some of the new techniques I used in my painting are using a lot of water with paint to create the “wet” sand. The other technique I used is working with my fingers on the wet paint to blend in the skin tone.
