<p>I really don't think stats matter that much with Yale. but here it goes:
Highschool:
SATs: 1400 (i took them sophomore year of high school, decided not to take them again)
SATiis: Italian: 740, Latin 800, Writing, 610
Spent Senior year in Italy studying art history, latin, greek and italian</p>
<p>College: Dartmouth College
GPA: 3.74 (two b's freshman fall, all A's since then)</p>
<p>Theatre and Geography double major w/ interest in Ethnicity, Race and Migration and Borders/boundaries. </p>
<p>My recs were amazing.</p>
<p>I studied theatre in London this past Fall 04. </p>
<p>My essays were okay, i guess.</p>
<p>Sample from my why i want to go to yale essay:</p>
<p>I asked French theatre director (and genius) Ariane Mnouchkine, after we had just seen her astounding new show The Cruel River: How did you create a rapid, threatening river/border, splitting families in half, killing children? How did you create this reality on stage? She looked at me and responded, Theatre can do everything. Theatre should do everything, and I was inspired by, and in awe of her. I then asked her what role immigration would have in the theatre of the 21st century. Immigration is the theme of the 21st century, she replied, and suddenly, theater and immigration melded: immigration as a journey from one identity to another; the immigrant as the dissimulating performer, attempting to penetrate into the US, undetected. Here is the immigrant-character wanting something (a need essential for any character) better; he or she has nothing to lose because s/he has already lost it. The immigrant-character must decide whether to come to the US legally or illegally or, not to come to the US at all. Those who go through Immigration and Naturalization Services are bureaucratic-survivalists. Those that cross illegally in trains, rivers, boats, deserts, bodies are extreme-survivaliststheir life depends on a successful immigration without being caught. But both types of characters discover that their journey is never ending. They learn English, find jobs, suffer racism, forget their homes, and die; dead people migrating from a dead place to another death. For me, the challenge is to find the life place in all this, the resistance.</p>
<p>Sample from my personal essay:</p>
<p>It fell into my arms when nobody was looking. And I read it in the dark. The dazzle, the effervescence, the magic, the Fluor, the Phosphor, the Lumen, the Candle burst my mind, luring me to a beautiful gay world I had never known to exist: New York City in a Gay Fantasia. There was hope in disease, beauty that emerged from AIDS. And the fearoh the fear of the flapping of the wings, the Angel looming upon me, flapping, flapping her wings, knocking, flapping doors, knocking, knocking on the door, my mom looming over me, over the cover ofofof...All she saw was the word GAY and thats all she understood.
Tony Kushners Angels in America came into my life, when my religious-Adventist self (R.I.P.) had concocted, connived, and conceived a sulfur-raining, AIDS-infected, family-devoid Gay World, and made it fabulous. At least until I told my mother I was gay.</p>
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<p>Last Hook: I got in the first time. But somehow chose Dartmouth over Yale.</p>