David Gorman's sense of humor and writing style paid off big this year! Mental Floss, a magazine that encourages creative thinking, offered an essay contest awarding $10,000 to the first prize winner. David began developing his essay for an English class assignment, continued to refine it for an Academic Decathlon speech, and ultimately submitted the essay to the magazine for consideration in the contest. And consider it they did! Representative from the magazine shared that David's essay was one of 6,000 essays submitted for the contest and that his essay made the selection committee laugh out loud! David plans to use his winnings to pay for some of his college expenses this year. Way to go, David!


David Gorman
“Mental Floss” Essay

Autism, childhood obesity, diabetes. These are some of the common diseases of my generation. Lurking in the background are other, lesser-known illnesses that may not make the evening news but certainly are real enough to their victims. Unfortunately, I suffered from one of these lesser-known ailments, one that didn’t pose fatal repercussions but still plagued me just the same. I was diagnosed with Good-looking, Remarkable Older Sister Syndrome or, as I like to call it, G.R.O.S.S. I guarantee you that G.R.O.S.S. is a very serious and life-changing illness. I am a survivor of G.R.O.S.S. and this is why I, not my sister, should win this scholarship.
Growing up, I thought I was a normal boy, no different from the average Joe. My sister, however, had plans of her own. One day, the day that changed my life, a friend said to me, “Wow! Your sister’s hot!” It hit me like a 10-lb brick. My airway constricted and I couldn’t breathe. There was no avoiding it any longer: I had a very attractive sister, or so I was told. I didn’t need to be informed of her remarkable talents; I had witnessed them in sports arenas, in soup kitchens, and on report cards. As the stunning truth sunk in, my world was turned upside down. I was diagnosed with Good-looking, Remarkable Older Sister Syndrome three days later.
After a long year of attempting to cope with my newly discovered disease, I had matured into a young teenager and was ready for high school. At least, that’s what I thought. The high school years would be the most trying and difficult times of my life. My classmates had yet to experience the perfection that was my sister. Word spread that my sister had the beauty of Cindy Crawford and the heart of Mother Teresa. I was devastated. Life in high school is difficult enough without any additional diseases to deal with! After the initial reaction to my sister died down, countless boys wanted to be my friend. I thought it was because of my intelligence, athleticism, and witty sense of humor. Sadly, this wasn’t the case. My so-called “friends” only wanted to get closer to my sister.
Let’s not forget about the other half of G.R.O.S.S. Not only was she good-looking, my sister was remarkable too: succeeding in academics, athletics, even volunteering in her free time…ew! How could I compete? My parents were no help either; they thought my disease was just an excuse to escape gym class or park my car in handicapped parking spaces. No one understood what I was going through. My sister set the highest standards possible. Sometimes living up to her accomplishments was plausible, but other times it was just ludicrous. After she was crowned Homecoming Queen, I gave up trying. Last time I checked, I was a boy and I couldn't fit into an evening gown.
As my doctor told me, my sister stole all the good genes my parents had to pass on, leaving me with the unwanted leftovers. Thankfully I’m better looking than the average male, but I’m still no George Clooney. I don’t have the kindness and charity of Oprah either. My mediocre grades and weak gentlemanly behavior wasn’t good enough. I thought this insanity would never end.
Slowly but surely, G.R.O.S.S. was beginning to take over my life. Luckily, my sister was college-bound and she left the house. She was only a few hours away, but it was far enough. After many therapy sessions and letters to “Dear Abby,” my identity resurfaced and the old me returned. Now a spokesman for G.R.O.S.S. victims nationwide, I can truly say I have overcome this horrific disease.
I’m sure many applicants for this scholarship have triumphed over disease, illness, and adversary, but I am different. My disease was not some foreign tumor or mastermind virus. My disease had a face. And that face was one that made boys lightheaded, girls jealous, married men regretful, and me angry. I was forced to sneer at her smiles, decry her decency, and gag at her good looks. But, I’ve learned to forgive and forget. As difficult as it is, I still love my sister. I even see her sometimes too. I just have to wear sunglasses so I’m not blinded by her supermodel beauty and saintly goodness. I deserve this scholarship because I want to leave my old memories of being held captive by G.R.O.S.S. behind and pursue something with a far brighter future: affordable college.

 

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