College Essay Help & Tutoring

College Essay Help & Tutoring Avoiding conformism and pre-set structures lets people see the world in different colors and leads to self-discovery. This novel is a clear reminder that people have potential and must not choose an easy path in life. I sat in an armchair in front of a wood fire with a cup of tea and read. I read for hours until my skin stung, my neck stiffened and my head ached. At night, I would draw myself a bath and lay in it until the water went cold and read. Most distinctly I remember running to the bathroom, chapter after chapter, to throw up. It was all at once a beautiful and harrowing experience. Each individual must pave their own way to achieve true happiness. The novel also addresses conformism and its effects on society. The conformism in the novel is blindly following government orders, not questioning the comical levels of commodity deficits, the lack of freedom of speech, and restrictions on art. The quote from the introduction shows an even bigger tragedy. The words “no documents, no person” are spoken by Woland’s right-hand, Koroviev, to Master when he is rescued. Master immediately worries that he will be in trouble if someone finds him with paper proof that he is “sick”. Documents meant the difference between life and death in Stalin’s regime. My initial impression was that the truth of Lolita, its ugliness, was hidden behind its beautiful prose. It uses flowery words of love and affection to trick the reader into believing in some kind of horrid love story. I had thought that my job as the reader was to peel back the layers of beautiful imagery to reveal the novel’s and Humbert’s grotesque center. They weigh so heavily on each other that it is impossible for them to existence independently. There is no way to read Lolita and believe one has at last found the truth of Dolores and Humbert’s story. It is a book of perpetual discussion, conversation, and questioning. Much like an individual doesn’t realize how hungry she is until she takes a bite of food, my intellectual hunger rose and demanded that I feast. I began to question the ideas behind my everyday actions regardless of whether other people thought this was a relevant line of inquiry or not. Out of this confusion and curiosity, my AP Research paper on the nature of open-mindedness as an intellectual virtue in epistemology emerged. I wanted to brush off the proselike dust off an old book. I had thought that the truth was beneath this, like a mystery waiting to be solved. Maybe there was someone who had successfully revealed the “truth” of Lolita in all it’s ugliness, someone who had pushed past all Lolita ’s beauty and emerged with a final knowledge of it. It was late December and the snow was gently falling outside. Being Polish was a part of me, but not something I paid much attention to. I live in a newly independent society that still has remnants of the old, Soviet conformism, and, instead of freeing itself, it has begun to bury itself in it. The obsession with following narrow dreams that I see in my peers is part of today’s conformism. The drive to conform to a standard so as to avoid standing out has become more and more apparent. However, the society depicted in the novel accepts such conformism to urvive, whereas the young generation can take individual freedom for granted. It impedes creativity and critical thinking, but these are essential in raising questions and seeing beyond the obvious. Instead, my peers choose to follow similar paths of education and career . At an early age they are asked to choose their path for life. Readers at the time of the book’s publication would have remembered these, their imaginations leaving Paris for the Polish countryside. The poem’s lyrical Alexandrines transported me back to Poland, especially when the words were softly murmured, huddled underneath blankets, the pages illuminated with a flickering flashlight. I first began reading Pan Tadeusz when I was thirteen. And perhaps because it was my decision to read this epic, my reaction to it was stronger than it otherwise would have been. Until then, being Polish meant little more to me than having a second passport, wearing a traditional dress on holidays, and having a passel of cousins across the ocean.