关于意面的essay
这是一篇今年哥伦比亚大学录取学生的文书。
作者说，他苦苦挣扎了很久才写出了这篇文章，还开玩笑的问他朋友自己写了一篇关于意面的essay怎么办。作者对于意大利面的热爱到达了一个执着的程度，他也很欣赏自己有这个想法。所以他决定承担风险，进行这个冒险的尝试。
Essay全文：
I love pasta.
我喜欢吃意面。
I’m not Italian, nor o I know anyone who is. I’m a half-Polish, half-German ki from Bouler, Colorao. I shoul instea crave perogies, wienerschnitzel, or maybe vegan avocao toast sprinkle with microgreens.
我不是意大利人，并且也不认识任何意大利人。我是一个来自科罗拉多州博尔德市，半波兰半德国血统的孩子。比起意面来，我更应该喜欢吃波兰饺子、维也纳炸肉排、或是撒着嫩青的酪梨烤面包。
So why exactly o I love pasta? Memories.
所以，我喜欢意面的由来又是什么呢？因为回忆。
When I was seven, my favorite restaurant, Nooles, ha mac-n-cheese that was legenary. However, it playe secon file to Pasta Fresca, my little secret that hi own on the bottom right of the menu. I woul orer it every time, exactly the same: extra tomatoes, half spinach, ouble feta. Perfection.
在我七岁的时候，我喜欢一间名为Nooles的餐厅，他们有着无与伦比的芝士焗通心粉。但是对于Pasta Fresca的餐厅来说，他们只能屈居第二。我把这个秘密藏在了菜单的最深处。每次我都想点同一道菜，提出同样的要求：双倍羊乳酪，加倍西红柿，多半份菠菜，完美。
But with my insatiable esire for perfection, came complications; it was impossible for a seven-year-ol to routinely fin his way to Nooles, come up with $8.50, an convince the cashier that No, I am not lost, an Yes, I know the feta will cost extra. Therefore, I ha to get creative. Arme with a to-go menu an one brief shopping trip later, I attempte to make Pasta Fresca. I unfortunately learne, however, that an ingreient list alone contains no inication of measurement; a teaspoon quickly turns into a tablespoon. The result was a soupy, vinegary mess. That magic touch, that fresca, was missing. In fact, calling it Pasta Fresca woul’ve been a crime. But it was my own–I mae that pasta an there was something powerful in that.
然而我对完美的近乎执着的追求，却不是那么容易所能实现的。对于一个七岁的小男孩来说，拿着8.5美金，独自找到去Nooles的路，还要说服收银员：“不，我并不是走丢了”和“是，我知道再加一份羊乳酪会额外收费”，这简直是天方夜谭。因此，我只能开足脑筋来尝试做一份Pasta Fresca。在带着便携菜单购物之后，我遗憾的发现，材料表上并没有标注出合适的分量。我只能在茶匙抑或汤匙的计量中苦苦挣扎。最后的成果只是一团糟，一团像汤一样酸乎乎的东西。应有的鲜美，应现的魔法，都不见了。实际上，这一团酸乎乎的东西，压根就配不上Pasta Fresca这个名字。但，这是只属于我自己的Pasta Fresca——这是我亲手做的意面，我为我自己能做出它而感到骄傲。
Five years later, that warm glow of prie of my foray into Pasta Fresca was long gone. I ha hit rock bottom. It was winter an I was living with my best frien. Sleing, snowball fights, an hot cocoa fille our ays. So, how oes a twelve-year-ol living his ream hit rock bottom?
五年后，第一次做意面的自豪感早已消逝，我落入了人生的谷底。那是一个冬天，我和我最好的朋友一起生活。我们的日子被滑雪橇，打雪仗和热巧克力所填满。是什么能让一个十二岁的活在梦里的孩子突然坠入人生的谷底呢？
Cancer.
癌症。
My brother Klaus was iagnose with a rare form of chilhoo sarcoma that force my family to New York City for treatment, while I was stuck in col Colorao. Days ble into weeks, weeks into months of simply grining away at school, craving the comfort of sleep, where I coul forget my anxiety for a while. My sole comfort, the one thing that turne the worst of weeks into something bearable, was Gruffalo Pasta. Contrary to the name, it containe no mythical beast; it was simply penne with meat sauce, an yet there was something magical about it. Every Friay night, my frien’s family an I woul sit own an eat Gruffalo Pasta with their famous garlic cheesy brea (worthy of its own essay). Laughs rang out as we playe games, watche movies, an went sleing–we woul be a family. Although my real family was thousans of miles away, every Friay night, home felt tangible.
我的弟弟Klaus被诊断出患有一种罕见的儿童恶性肉瘤，迫使我们全家，除了我，搬去纽约为他治病。而我则被留在了寒冷的科罗拉多。时光飞逝，日月如梭。每当白天我便独自一人在学校消磨着时间，渴望着睡眠时的温暖。只有在入睡后，我才能暂时的远离我的焦虑。还好，起码我有Gruffalo（直译为咕噜牛） Pasta在，给我最后的安慰，陪我度过最难熬的时光。恰恰和它的名字相反，这种意面和什么神秘怪兽没有丝毫联系，就是由简简单单的肉酱和通心粉所制成，可其中却又有些许的神奇之处。每当周五傍晚，我会和我朋友的家人坐在一起，配上可口的芝士蒜蓉面包（这芝士蒜蓉面包其中的故事，待日后我为你娓娓道来）分享Gruffalo Pasta。随着我们一起玩游戏，看电影，滑雪橇——就好像我们是一家人一样。即使，我真正的家人们与我相隔了几千英里，“家”这个词对我来说，也从虚无缥缈的词汇变成了触手可及的东西。
When my family returne, spring gave way to summer, an with it came neverening afternoons of skinne knees, balls lost over fences, new neighborhoo friens, an Mac n’ Cheese. We rippe through box after box, new faces cycling through the kitchen as mac n’ cheese lunches became a neighborhoo traition. There was a sense of inepenence that came with it, as us kis cooke it ourselves–exactly how we like it. We ae extra butter an milk, peas, chicken, bacon; whatever our little hearts esire. The ays seeme infinite, brimming with possibility an spontaneity, with the comfort that there was always a mac n’ cheese lunch at someone’s house to look forwar to.
当我的家人回到科罗拉多之时，春去夏来。随之而来的，还有仿佛无尽的午后。我们肆无忌惮的玩着，闹着，擦破了膝盖，踢飞了皮球。当然，还有新搬来的邻居，和芝士焗通心粉。我们孩子在纸箱之间打闹，在各家厨房穿梭，芝士焗通心粉成了邻里关系中不可或缺的一部分。我们小孩子自己做的时候，就会喜欢什么加什么。多加黄油，多放牛奶，豌豆，鸡肉，培根，我们想放什么，就放什么。随之而来的，就是一种自由自在，当家作主的快感。这种日子似乎就可以一直这么持续下去，给我们无穷的可能和无尽的动力。我们总知道，总会有下一家的芝士焗通心粉，可以让我们发挥一场。
Pasta continues to weave its threa through my life, from the Christmas inners of Pasta Puttanesca, my pesto business starte in 8th grae, gifts of exotic pasta an sauces for my birthay, to the cross-country team’s pasta parties. Pasta is a narrative tightly intertwine with that of my own. It’s been sai that one shoul look for goo in the worl, whether it be memories, hope for the future, or simple joys, fin that goo that rives your every ay. I say you nee look no further than what is in front of you. I foun that gooness in a bowl of pasta.
意面继续编织着我的生活。从圣诞晚宴的Pasta Putanesca，到八年级的香蒜酱买卖，亦或是我生日礼物得到的各种风味的意面和酱料，直至跨国风情的意面派对。意面串联起了我的人生中的每一环。有人说，人们应该在世界上寻找美好，无论是过往的回忆，或是对未来的希望，还是简简单单的快乐，找到那个可以给你动力让你为之奋斗的事情。可我却认为，在四处寻觅之前，先看清眼前的一切吧。而我所看到的，就是一碗意面给我的美好。
关于内衣的文书
这是一篇被哈佛大学录取学生的文书，本来不打算申请哈佛的，她觉得自己不够优秀，准备也不充分，所以在申请大学时，哈佛是她最后一刻才加到申请名单里的，因为哈佛的申请流程太简单了，不试一下简直浪费！
她直接拿申请芝加哥大学时写的一篇谈论内衣的作品交了上去…然而，就是这一篇选题有些“非主流”的文章，却获得了哈佛招生官的青睐。
I remember the first time I wore a bra. I came home from school in the fifth grae, an my mom hane me a white cloth to put on beneath my shirt. “You’re a big girl now,” she sai, “You nee to wear this.” From that moment on, my life was forever change.
我回忆自己第一次穿内衣的时候：那是五年级放学后的一天，母亲将我拉到一旁，递上一片白色布状的东西，吩咐她穿在身上：“你是个大女孩了，你得穿上它。”那一刻，我觉得自己的人生就此被改变了。
That same year, I was taught that the sun woul someay ie, an I, feeling the pressure of the contraption beneath my shirt, realize that my chilhoo, too, woul eventually issipate just like the sun.
自从胸前多了这个不太舒服的玩意儿，紧贴于衬衫之下，勒着自己的胸，总有一股隐隐的压力，似乎无时无刻不在提醒着我：无忧无虑的童年已经过去了。
The first bra pave way for a secon, an then a thir, an then, by the fourth bra I ha avance to the Lay Type, the ones that my mom wore.
内衣就这样进入了我的生活。 第一件内衣用了没多久就下岗了，随之而来的是第二件、第三件，到了第四件的时候，我已经穿上了成人码，就是自己妈妈穿的那种。
With every new bra, I cast away the former. Somewhere in the ark abyss of my closet, there is a heap of abanone bras, tiny, worn-out filaments that ha once shone so brightly in their ays of use, but ha fae away into ol, neglecte remnants of ays long gone. They sit against a corner of the universe an gather ust like ea stars— without life, without luster, without vigor.
内衣的更换似乎在告诉我一种定律：当新的东西到来的时候，总要跟旧的说再见。所以，旧的内衣只能被丢弃在柜子深处，不管以前多么闪耀夺目，现在也只是一堆破旧的边角料，似乎这就是它们无可更改的宿命，就像坠落在宇宙犄角旮旯里的星星一样，它们落满了灰尘，毫无生机，毫无光彩。
With every new bra, I felt the unmerciful han of change push me further own a path with which I ha no return. The bras no longer ha the simplicity of the first; they came equippe with more fols an stitches an frills an patterns that were esigne to counteract the growing complexity of my responsibilities.
这让我无比伤感，当我想起了自己穿内衣的那一天，一样是没有选择的余地，没有说No的权利，这和那些被丢弃的内衣有什么两样？
于是，每换一件新的内衣，这种失落感就加重一分，我觉得自己似乎被强行推着，走到越来越遥远的地方，没有回头的余地。 我开始厌恶起了新内衣上的那些装饰：时髦的褶皱，夸张的图案，繁复的花边，一切都是那么的闪亮亮，似乎是为了抵消人生进程中越加越重的担子而做出的补偿。
Sometimes, when I foun myself too big for the current one, I was either unable to or unwilling to get another because of the implications behin the transition—if every new bra meant the eath of another star, then the ault worl was nothing to me but a lifetime of arkness. I trie so har not to kill any more stars, but my resistance was not enough, an I foun myself aing layer after layer to the ever-increasing pile of bras. With this minset, I prepare myself for the en, for the moment in which my entire universe woul be engulfe by the black hole forming in my closet.
终于，我开始抵抗穿新内衣：“有时，即使我发现内衣太小，该换了，我仍然不愿意换新的，因为这意味着新的来了，就得跟旧的说再见。如果世界是按这么一个定律运转，那对我来说还有什么生存的意义？”
然而，这种无畏的抵抗并没起太大作用，柜子里被丢弃的内衣依旧越积越多，就像黑洞一样在吸蚀着自己，我渐渐泄了气，准备着被这样一个黑洞吞噬。
But I was save.
但是有一条，我终于想通了。
I learne that life oes not occur linearly, but in cycles: New stars can arise from the ashes of former ones, an the arkness of eath is replenishe by the light of birth. Thus, what is create is only a reinterpretation of the past in a form that is fitte for the present. In wearing a new bra, I was not casting away my ol self but reorienting myself to accommoate to changing times.
我发现，生命并不是单纯的线性运转，而是像一个圈，有着周而复始的循环：就拿自己心爱的星星来说，新的星星是从那些已经燃尽的星星灰烬里重生的，因此换个角度看，死亡所带来的黑暗其实也暗暗蕴含着生的光芒。穿上一件新的内衣，并不是对旧内衣的抛弃，而是对生活的变化本身所给予的一种回应。
Change, as overwhelming as it feels, is only natural—the pile of bras will only get bigger. Though it is har to accept the existence of the bra in my life, I realize that I cannot live without it, for, as we grow oler, things ten to roop more easily, an there is nothing more reliable than a bra to give us the inner support necessary to have a firm hol on life.
变化，尽管对每个人来说都是压力重重，但这却是自然规律。我想，柜子里的那一堆内衣无论如何都减少不了了，虽然我很难接受这一点，但我不得不承认，随着年龄的增加，下垂会变得很厉害，我也需要新的内衣，毕竟这世上没什么能比一件内衣带来更坚挺的依托了。
