法學專業方向留學申請文書範文分享

範例二：法學專(zhuan) 業(ye) 方向

@Michelle C.

我的辯論隊友曾經建議我：“如果你輸掉一場比賽，就要丟(diu) 棄比賽時穿的衣服。” “這不切實際，”我回答道。 “你不再穿輸掉重要辯論回合時的衣服，這同樣不切實際。服飾與(yu) 成功的關(guan) 係不大。” 一半的我不同意他的看法。但我每次仍會(hui) 帶三支0.7的BIC圓珠筆參加考試，因為(wei) 我的直覺告訴我，這樣的“吹毛求疵”會(hui) 提高我的分數。我仍然相信，如果使用Calibri字體(ti) ，會(hui) 得到更好的成績。而且我也不會(hui) 再穿輸掉重要辯論回合時的衣服。

然而，另一半的我對自己的迷信行為(wei) 不屑一顧。我喜歡邏輯，總能以合理的推理得出準確的結論。 幸運的是，我經常放棄對實用主義(yi) 的偏愛，以適應自己毫無根據的迷信。

我認為(wei) 隻需要在特定情況下按邏輯行事，因而坦然接受自己不合邏輯的天性。 我與(yu) 曾祖母、祖父母以及父母在同一個(ge) 屋簷下長大，總有人幫我記錄農(nong) 曆的韓國假期。然而，每當家裏四代人用傳(chuan) 統韓式烤肉慶祝節日時，我無法溯源且並不存在的意大利血統就會(hui) 表示抗議。

我叛逆地給自己煮了蛤蜊意麵，而這與(yu) 媽媽的辣泡菜格格不入。 如果我繪製一張“鍛煉時長”與(yu) “星期”的圖表，那麽(me) 看起來會(hui) 像是一個(ge) 不規則的心動周期。上升波段象征著我衝(chong) 浪時與(yu) 巨大水牆的鬥爭(zheng) ，以期順利滑回海灘。接下來的下降波段反映了我在辯論隊活動室搜索資料但仍未完成論文的時間，或者在彈奏阿黛爾的最新曲。

然後舒張期的寧靜被周末的打斷，在我最愛的射擊比賽中，我正衝(chong) 刺穿越戰壕，避免被敵方的彩彈擊中。 我在熟悉的地方找到安慰。我很珍惜和哥哥的日常午夜聊天，在為(wei) 朋友的生日烤紙杯蛋糕時，我們(men) 保持安靜避免吵醒媽媽和她“你會(hui) 感染沙門氏菌”的嘮叨。

然而，我最美好的一些回憶是和那些與(yu) 我截然不同的人交談。無論是關(guan) 於(yu) 卡塔爾教練對於(yu) 科威特女性投票模式的研究，還是關(guan) 於(yu) “通用應用程序”和牛津大學麵試之間的差異，甚至是朋友的瑞典學校隻在周三強製穿校服的特殊政策，我都喜歡與(yu) 來自不同國家的人探討文化差異。

我的行為(wei) 是不可預測的。然而，它是可預測的不可預測。當然，我永遠不會(hui) 像人們(men) 想象的那樣享用韓式晚餐。隻要聞到泡菜的味道，我就會(hui) 煮意大利麵。

點評：這些豐(feng) 富的細節讓讀者深入了解到，是什麽(me) 讓米歇爾成為(wei) 一個(ge) 充滿好奇心、性格鮮明並對事物采取不同態度的人。

以下是英文原文——

@Michelle C.

“You should scrub off the top layer of your skin whenever you lose a round,” my debate teammate once advised me.

“That’s not practical,” I replied.

“Neither is your refusal to wear clothes you’ve lost important debate rounds in. Your wardrobe has very little to do with your success.”

Half of me disagrees with him. I still bring three BIC Round Stic pencils with 0.7 lead to every test because my gut tells me this fastidious procedure raises my scores. I’m still convinced that labs receive better grades if written in Calibri. And I still won’t rewear clothes in which I’ve lost crucial rounds.

Yet the other half of me is equally dismissive of my own superstitions. I love logic, never failing to check that steps in a proof lead to a precise conclusion without gaps in reasoning.

Fortunately, I often abandon my penchant for pragmatism to accommodate for my unwarranted superstitions. And since I only feel the need to act logicalcally in selective situations, I am perfectly content with the illogical nature of my other habits:

Raised with my great-grandmother, grandparents, and parents all under one roof, I never lacked a consultant to help me transcribe Korean holiday dates from the lunar calendar onto my schedule. Yet whenever all four generations of my family celebrates with a traditional meal of bulgogi, my untraceable and admittedly nonexistent Italian blood flares in protest; I rebelliously cook myself linguine con le vongole that clashes terribly with my mom’s pungent kimchi.

If I plot a graph of “hours I spend in physical activity” versus “week of the year,” the result looks like an irregular cardiac cycle. The upsurges symbolize my battles with colossal walls of water in hopes of catching a smooth surf back to Mission Bay shore. The ensuing period of rest mirrors the hours I spend researching in that one spot in my debate team’s war room that isn’t covered in papers (yet), or at the piano sight-reading the newest Adele song. Then the diastolic tranquility is interrupted by the weekends when I’m sprinting through trenches to avoid paintballs swarming above my favorite arena at Paintball USA.

I find comfort in the familiar. I treasure the regular midnight chats with my brother as we indulge in batter while baking cupcakes for a friend’s birthday, keeping our voices hushed to avoid waking our mom and facing her “salmonella is in your near future” lecture.

Yet, some of my fondest memories involve talking to people with whom I share nothing in common. Whether my conversations are about the Qatari coach’s research on Kuwait’s female voting patterns, or about the infinite differences between the “common app” and the Oxford interviewing process, or even about my friend’s Swedish school’s peculiar policy of mandating uniforms only on Wednesdays, I love comparing cultures with debaters from different countries.

My behavior is unpredictable. Yet it’s predictably unpredictable. Sure, I’ll never eat a Korean dinner like one might expect. But I’ll always be cooking linguine the moment I catch a whiff of kimchi.