<p>I bow to you. Have fun at P-ton. </p>
<p>Regards</p>
<p>Jerod</p>
<p>I think I'm going to major in Fine Arts (what do you think, waste of a major?)</p>
<p>I'm not sure if you can double major, but I'm also interested in Political Science.</p>
<p>Way to go, Ilpaco! Followed your saga and am so happy for you!</p>
<p>After last year's news about all of the Yale rejections and deferrals, maybe this bodes well for this year's crop of students! All I can say is..... WOW!!!!</p>
<p>
[quote]
I think I'm going to major in Fine Arts (what do you think, waste of a major?)</p>
<p>I'm not sure if you can double major, but I'm also interested in Political Science.
[/quote]
</p>
<p>oh no! here it comes..... my list of potential majors..... is .... growing! :)</p>
<p>hahhahahah yea, i'll be around for a few more years.</p>
<p>and then grad school!</p>
<p>WOW! Ilcapo must have made them an offer Princeton could not refuse, or what is it that horse's head in the Dean's bed? </p>
<p>On a serious note, this is a great accomplishment. You worked hard for this -too hard, in my book- and you ought to be very, very proud of yourself. </p>
<p>Bask in the glory, learn to relax a bit, and take care of your mom. The bets of luck to you at P!</p>
<p>Congrats! from another mom.
now relax, make sure you don't miss too many more classes this year.</p>
<p>heh thanks moms.</p>
<p>i'll be missing on tuesday for my mecca to princeton...but thats it!</p>
<p>THE ESSAYS...THAT I THINK GOT ME IN.
(don't even try to steal them, they've already been sent to 24 schools)</p>
<p>None of them were within the word limits, I think combined, they were 1,000 words or so over.</p>
<p>Princeton Main Essay</p>
<p>The orange nets unfurled from the hands of the police, I stood there frozen, not immediately alert to looming danger. The police lifted their clubs, I lifted my camera. The demonstrators fell to the ground, I kneeled beside them. Images flashed before me, and I responded with the click of a button. The danger was still present, but remarkably, so were the protesters.</p>
<p>A man holding up a bible, a policeman holding up a gun. An elderly lady playing chess with a dog at her side, an AIDS victim struggling for his last breath as protestors trampled him. What I was witnessing was more than a democratic movement; it was a snapshot of society at its best and worst. </p>
<p>When it started, I feared the protestors. They picked through garbage looking for left over food while I chewed on my granola bar that Mom had packed me. I clung to my cell phone with the number of a civil rights lawyer on speed dial, while they simply hoped that someone might bail them out. As the days dragged on, however, our differences became less of an issue, and our commonalities became integral to both of our causes. The protestors needed the awareness that I could provide, and I needed subjects to photograph.</p>
<p>It all began with the purchase of a pin. While the professional media sat patiently and waited for that one token shot of a protestor being dragged away handcuffed, I took an alternative approach. It seemed simple enough: affix an anti-Bush pin to my backpack and reap the rewards that often come along when a photojournalist connects with his subjects. To some extent, this proved true. For days I had envied the photographers who got the money shots, and now, miraculously, the protestors put their faith in my pin and chose to turn to me as they were taken away. What they saw in me was the ability to make their cause known, and though I was elated by the incredible photographs I was taking, I also felt guilty that I was not capable of exposing their message to a greater audience. I was not the NY Times; I could not deliver their message to the masses. When they spelled out their names as if they were to appear in the caption, all I could do was frustratingly call them in to the AP wire.</p>
<p>As the days dragged on, however, my connections with the crowds grew. A bag of chips here, a free cell phone call there, any little thing that might draw me closer was worth the effort. During their brief respites, our conversations finally (and thankfully) revealed that the messages they wished to convey were meant to extend to all facets of society. They knew I was not a NY Times photographer, but they turned to me anyway. They turned to me to depict the truth to the members of my society, not their own, and not even to the readers of the Times. They wanted to show everyone what they were fighting for: the students of Northport High School, the internet surfers who passed through my website, even the relatives who viewed my albums. This refreshing revelation proved integral to the development of my role as a budding photojournalist. </p>
<p>The power of my camera was suddenly obvious. With the snap of a button, I could capture a movement without a word. I could freeze a moment in time that represented so much more than that one flash, and yet I could speak volumes through an eighth of a second and a few chemicals.</p>
<p>When the nets came sweeping through the park, I recalled the time when I was envious of the protesters around me. I thought that they were there for the right reasons and I was there for the wrong reasons. They were there to daringly prove, and I was there merely to document. What I realized in just a few days though, was that worrying about which role was more important than the other was hindering my true passions as both a political activist and a photojournalist, and that in reality, these roles could be easily balanced. So I grabbed a sign, slung a camera around my neck, affixed my button, and chanted with the rest of them. The whole world was watching, and I wanted them to see it my way.</p>
<p>Princeton Optional Essay</p>
<p>I could barely make out the words of the man on the other end of the line. He was my first case, a man who survived Vietnam but who wouldnt be able to survive America without increased benefits for his military service. John suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder which prevented him from working and thus supporting his family. The mail had just reached him, and a decision had been rendered on his appeal: $50,000 in retroactive benefits, with a $250 increase each month. Though I had watched the process unfold, it wasnt until I realized that this man who seemed tougher than nails was crying that it all sunk in. For the first time in my life, I had made a difference, and someone was letting me know.</p>
<p>As I packed the envelope full of information and sent it out, it never crossed my mind that a mans livelihood hung in the balance. Tax forms, military records, housing information; to me it was simply data, but in reality it determined one man's financial security. As I sent out the package I still believed that my job was simply to advocate a cause; I had done it before, in campaigns, mock trials, and in every day life. What I realized when the decision came back, however, was that my job meant much, much more.</p>
<p>It had all started just a year earlier. On a particularly boring day when I sat in a corner stuffing envelopes I wondered to myself how I could make my rather mundane intern experience more useful and rewarding. As a nervous freshman, the thought of asking my intimidating boss Holli for a quasi-promotion was a frightening thought. After a few days of contemplation, though, I realized that in order for anything to be accomplished, I would have to speak up. So I compiled a list of initiatives and handed it over, trying my best to read Hollis expressions as she glanced over my ideas. When she looked up at me with a smile, I knew that this internship was about to change into something much more rewarding. Soon, Holli and I became a team set on maximizing the benefits for every veteran in our district. Veterans would call in looking for replacement medals or seeking benefits, and instead of simply transferring their calls, I was given permission to take action and make things happen for these people in need. Soon, they even changed my position. I was no longer a mere intern, but a Veterans Liaison Officer.</p>
<p>Since then, I have organized Veterans workshops for the brave soldiers who fought for our country years ago, and I have produced newsletters and mailings that provide updates to these men and women who deserve their under-utilized benefits. Recently, the work of my office was featured in Roll Call and Newsday as a model of excellence for attaining veterans benefits. It has been my work in this arena that has led veterans such as John to contact me and request my assistance in helping get the most out of the services and benefits available to them. </p>
<p>When Johns wife picked up the phone and told me how far the money would go in paying bills and managing debt, I realized the potential impact even a mere intern can achieve. Something inside me had changed since the day I sat by myself stuffing envelopes. I came to understand the value of working for others, and I was exposed to the inner rewards of taking action for others. Looking back, I can only be thankful that a job I once found monotonous now serves as the catalyst for a future career in public service.</p>
<p>Princeton "Tell a story that will help us get to know you better" Essay</p>
<p>To any young mother, finding a diversion for her child is of imminent concern. But for me, the typical activities such as soccer and chess were replaced with a pen, paper, envelope, stamp, and my mothers goading to write. For a few weeks, friends and family were my only targets, until one night I returned home to find an address book of the stars on my pillow. Suddenly, I was opened up to a world wherein the actor I saw on screen or the pitcher I saw at Shea Stadium became as accessible as any family member or friend. All it took was a little research for me to gain the ammunition to write a powerful letter, and in no time I was sending off encouragement to Drew Barrymore, gratitude to Kofi Annan, or criticism to the President. I did my best to grant child-like wisdom to these icons and in return they granted me guidance that came from their first-hand experiences. As each piece of advice passed by me, a mark of distinction or question to ponder was left. Whether it was Maya Angelous encouragement to stay in school or Pat Benetars rambling on the benefits of music education, no lesson has been lost. </p>
<p>Some days, after I had dropped off the mail, I would lie on my bed and imagine the envelopes that were floating across the world with my address on their upper-left-hand corner. The estate of Princess Diana, the prison cell of Nelson Mandela, even the Capetown ministry of Desmond Tutu became new worlds to explore. As I have continued to grow, however, these epistolary explorations have been supplemented by physical journeys that have allowed me to see people and places first-hand. Classmates in a lecture hall, the dangerous streets of Harlem, co-workers at a museum the lives and viewpoints I have come across have helped create a clearer identity for my self in much the same way the celebrity-letters have. Though the role that mail plays in my life may diminish as I begin to see the world in more tangible ways, the wonderful introduction to humanity the letters from my past granted me will never be replaced.</p>
<p>Princeton "Influence" Essay</p>
<p>For much of my childhood, one of my goals was to be everything my dad was when he was living. I wanted to walk like him, talk like him, do the things he did when he was a kid .everything! What society had told me was that a boy was to be like his father, and since my father wasnt around, I had to go by what I saw in pictures or video. Unfortunately, these small snapshots of a mans life did not go far in describing his true nature. I clung to every aspect of his character, and emulated the man these pictures, films, and tales told me he was until one day, I stumbled across my mothers diary, and learned that no man, even my father, was perfect. What I learned that day was that the man I had been creating in my mind was an ideal that I believed a father should be. He was strong and firm, but loving and caring, and he certainly didnt make mistakes. So when I read the diary and learned that he did in fact make mistakes, my Dad became someone even more important to me than ever before. Suddenly, I was freed from the expectations to live up to the example he set. The change was quick and drastic; I went from failing as an athlete to flourishing as an artist, questioning the Republicans I affiliated myself with to embracing the platforms of the Democrats, and from striving to be tough to striving to be compassionate. For a while, I wondered if I was shaming my father by not emulating him in every way. Did he think I was weak because I played no sports or crazy because I supported Kerry? </p>
<p>What my mother thankfully helped me realize, though, was that a father, whether living or dead, would love his son no matter what he did. Today, I try my best to blend the examples he has set for me with my own passions and dreams. I know that as he watches me, he is proud of everything I do and captivated by my lifes twists and turns. As I look forward towards the future I see my dad as a part of the greater meaning of my life; he will always be another influence in my decisions and a sign that I have chosen the right path. While others may pass through my life, the firm hand with which he guides me from above will always be present, knowing exactly when to push me along and when to let me figure it out on my own. My dad, the ideal father.</p>
<p>Ilcapo,</p>
<p>Wonderful essays, and wonderful experiences and thought processes. Yes, you can surely call your essays a major, major hook ! And thanks for sharing them with us. Wishing you success such as this always.</p>
<p>Thanks for posting the essays!--and I realized I forgot to say congraulations.</p>
<p>Please promise me you won't ever wear an orange-and-black tie (or socks) after you graduate, unless you are actually physically present on the Princeton campus or celebrating Halloween.</p>
<p>You're going to have the time of your life.....and meet people you'll be in touch with for a lifetime.....enjoy every minute!</p>
<p>Ilcapo,</p>
<p>Nice going, kid. Now see if you can return the favor of all the free advice & encouragement you got from the surrogate moms at CC - help other high-choolers who post Princeton-related questions here next year.... :-)</p>
<p>Congratulations IlCapo! You were a well-rounded candidate, and exactly what Princeton was looking for. * That's * the reason they took you in (not like you need me to tell you).</p>
<p>Have you heard from Gtown T? Saw another Gtown post...</p>
<p>Congrats! Good Luck!</p>
<p>Cheers I was planning on doing Georgetown EA, but then I decided to do Princeton instead. Good decision :)</p>