<p>??? you wanted to "write as ugly and unorganize as possible?"</p>
<p>The point of the essay was to define truth (saying that "living the question" is to search for truth in all things) and one of the ways that it is necessary to define truth in a complete definition for truth is that it can be obfuscated beyond all reason. Partially encouraged by Faulkner's Nobel acceptance speech, I chose to write a paragraph that proved my point by putting the reader through the rigorous experience of finding the truth of my paragraph via hard work and cleverness of the mind, to emulate the search for truth--truth is not often bundled up into care packages from mum, truth is scattered across the map. You had better "Get Crowbar" because we're going on a text-based adventure.</p>
<p>:D that's usually how my searches for truth begin. That and wikipedia.</p>
<p>Thanx you guys for posting your essays. This will definanelty help with my process next year.</p>
<p>Thanx for your efforts!!!!!!</p>
<p>wow...this thread was..long.
but thanks to everyone who posted their essays!
so much talent, brilliance, and creativity. lol..
it's getting close to 1/2 but i just began thinking about my chicago essay..mostly because i had to write essays for 6 other schools this winter..
is it bad to procrastinate this much? haha.</p>
<p>I just wanted to say that I honestly am not as impressed as some of the other people are by your essays drownergurl (of course, hopefully Chicago thinks differently!). Reading through your essay, I get the impression that you are a deep and very philosophical thinker and able to analyze things from many points of view, but unfortunately, the essay to me sounded more like a lecture than an essay. Not to dismay you though, I just think (and this is just speculation) that admissions officers prefer a much more personal and anecdotal way to relate your thoughts and ideas simply because it is more interesting to read. No doubt though, you have have some very deep and to me, very confusing, thoughts in your essay which is commendable. But then again don't let my opinion get you down because I'm not good at essays at all lol and I'm just letting you know my impressions as an average/below-average reader and thinker. no harsh feelings :)</p>
<p>^ I wrote an essay with a similar approach to drownergurl. The only thing that might've been different is that I tried to be more reflective in my last paragraph, but not much. It still seemed to work since I was accepted....</p>
<p>browsing aimlessly through this thread; thought enderkin's essay at the top of page 15 was heartachingly lovely...i admit i kinda teared up at the end..</p>
<p>i will post my extended essay option 3 after jan. 1 (:</p>
<p>I loved enderkin's essay; certainly made me tear up a little.</p>
<p>I'm not going to post my essay until the RD process for this year is over. =/</p>
<p>Why Chicago?</p>
<p>I'm too busy living this question to write about it.</p>
<p>(I'm not even applying, but I like reading essays. Some of these were really interesting, but you guys are a lot less concerned than I am about publicly posting essays.)</p>
<p>This thread is probably one of the most important reasons I'm so excited about applying to UChicago.</p>
<p>just for fun I'll post mine (I got in Early Action)</p>
<p>"At present you need to live the question." - Rainer Maria Rilke, translated from the German by Joan M. Burnham.</p>
<p>It is nine o'clock on a Wednesday night, and I am sitting at home. Although I would rather be doing my mountains of homework, watching the Phillies game, or just relaxing on the couch, I am on the phone with a 23 year-old woman, discussing an upcoming trip to Allentown, Pennsylvania. No, I am not involved in an illicit relationship with a woman six years my senior; she is the advisor of the BBYO chapter of which I am president, and together we are trying to figure out how much to pay for the bus to one of our weekend conventions. At these get-togethers, masses of hormone-crazed Jewish teens gather to "chill," learn leadership skills, and discover themselves. It is at times like this, or when a parent yells at me because they think that their child deserves a position that he or she didn't get, or when an over-ambitious freshman walks into the room and proceeds to tell me how to do my job, or when the international office decides that BBYO is no longer "a Jewish youth group," but is now "a transdenominational Jewish youth movement" that my life becomes stressful. As I grow more and more impatient with the build-up of tension, exhaustion, and homework, I ask myself, "Why do I do this? Why would I want to be in charge?" Then I think back to the awkward eighth grader who I once was and realize that my life over the past four years is an answer to that question. </p>
<p>My Jewish experience as a child was fairly similar to the secular norm. I attended Hebrew School, where I learned to haltingly read Hebrew without learning how to speak it, and had a Bar Mitzvah that was a highlight to me more because I had a “totally awesome” party than because I became a man according to traditional Jewish law. I attended religious services roughly four times a year, and happily tossed away the succession of flyers I received from my Temple's youth group. My only connection to Judaism was through attending my friends' Bar Mitzvahs and reluctantly going to synagogue once a week for post Bar Mitzvah studies, which would eventually culminate in a meaningless ceremony in which I "confirmed" my faith in Judaism. I was not proud to be Jewish, as it was just another reason for kids at school to pick on me. My best friend moved away after my 7th grade year, and I was lonely, awkward, nerdy, and depressed. All in all, by that point in my life, I was the perfect candidate to be a future loner. Then one day, my path changed with one phone call.</p>
<p>Dave Meluskey was a member of my 6th grade Hebrew school class, a "cool kid," and a pseudo-hippie. He was also the person who introduced me to BBYO, making him one of the most important people in my life. In April of my 8th grade year, he gave me a call on a Monday night and asked me if I was available on Wednesday because there was a meeting of “a bunch of awesome Jewish guys who just hang out and have fun.” He told me all about the Jewish and leadership aspects of BBYO; what I was more interested in was the opportunity to make friends and meet girls. By the end of the phone call I agreed to try it out, wondering if this was actually going to be as much fun as Dave said it would be. When I attended my first chapter meeting, I didn't exactly know what was going on, but I knew I loved BBYO. I loved the sense of camaraderie, the feeling of brotherhood, the fact that I belonged to something, that people actually wanted to be my friend instead of just making fun of me. I ended up going to every event that I could, from frisbee to jam sessions, from services to cemetery clean-ups, and I loved it all. I loved it so much that I decided to declare myself a candidate for my chapter's board and to attend BBYO's premier summer leadership experience, CLTC. Although I lost my election by a margin of one vote to one of my best friends, I still remained devoted to BBYO and looked forward to CLTC.</p>
<p>CLTC was only 10 days long, but it had an immeasurable impact on my life. I met 50 teens from all over North America, and although most of us had never met each other before, we quickly became close friends. In fact, I still count many of my fellow CLTC participants among my best friends. At CLTC, I learned how to be a better leader; although there was a curriculum, I learned more leadership skills from my fellow participants, many of whom already held high positions in the organization. The rabbis and Judaic educators at CLTC showed me how to connect to my religion outside of the traditional bounds of organized services. I left CLTC with a renewed commitment to my Judaism and more excited about BBYO than ever before. </p>
<p>I came into my sophomore year appreciative of everything I had gained from my BBYO experience and ready to step up and take a more significant leadership role in my chapter. By the end of that year, I had chosen to switch chapters into a much smaller one in the town in which I lived, as opposed to my old chapter, in the city where I went to synagogue. The decision to switch into West Chester BBYO was a difficult one for me. At that time, West Chester had fewer than ten active members, a board comprised of members of BBYO on paper only, and only four male members. Nonetheless, I was excited to take on the challenge of building up my chapter, and I spent my junior year doing so. As Vice President of Membership, I put a great deal of time and effort into recruiting new members. I made hundreds of calls, but for every teenager who agreed to come to a program, there were ten who were “too busy,” “not interested in doing anything Jewish,” “needed to call me back” (most of them never did), or gave me a straight up “No!” before slamming down the phone. There were times when I felt that all of my work made little impact, but when I saw my new members and how excited they were about BBYO, I realized that although the chapter was growing, numbers alone could not define how I defined my time as membership VP. The willingness of the members that I had recruited to step up and be involved in the chapter, as well as their love for the organization I had worked so hard to build reinvigorated me and was one of the main impetuses for my choosing to run for chapter President. </p>
<p>Although I still struggle to keep the balance between school work and BBYO work, school friends and BBYO friends, and family life and BBYO life, I realize that I am beginning to find that balance. At times I question why I spend so much of my time working on something that is often so amazingly frustrating, but when I assess BBYO’s influence on my life, I realize the person that I have become is the answer to that question.</p>
<p>My topic was the one about the particle accelerator. I got in Early Action. Good luck to everyone applying RD!</p>
<p>I remember sitting in my sophomore chemistry class when my teacher asked us, “What happens when an electron and positron collide?” The answer: a phenomenon called annihilation. Essentially, they “obliterate” each other and create a new product: gamma rays. This process was discovered due to the particle accelerators that allow scientists to examine processes that are not normally found on our planet, or cannot be simply re-created in a laboratory setting. Matter and antimatter, made of antiparticles, are the “opposite” of each other and thus cannot coexist. So, what happens if science and religion are thrown into a particle accelerator and finally collide? They cancel each other out and a new product is created: Atheism.</p>
<p>The debate of science versus religion has existed for many years. Many modern scientists claim there is no God and that science is the only driving force behind many of Earth’s mysteries, like evolution and the creation of the human race. However, religious leaders counter these allegations by looking at the Bible, Torah, and Koran, and postulate that God’s words are true and must be followed.</p>
<p>I respectfully disagree with both trains of thought. Religion and science can coexist. If the two apparently opposing entities, matter and antimatter, are thrown into a particle accelerator, I do not believe atheism is the only result. Like the phenomenon of annihilation, the conversation between science and religion can, and has, resulted in a burst of intellectual curiosity and energy. Devout Catholics are now questioning their religion’s ban on contraceptives. Shiite clerics are reconsidering their position on abortion.</p>
<p>My background as an Egyptian-American with a Muslim upbringing has forced me to reconcile the two forces of science and religion. In my case, atheism was not the result. I was, however, able to tap into the rays of energy produced by the sometimes combustible combination of the two ideas. One needs not be atheist to truly appreciate science, nor does one need to be a fundamentalist to appreciate religion. The two ideas complement each other and serve to answer some of life’s most mysterious questions. Science provides concrete, definitive evidence, while religion provides a more creative, spiritual outlet to human thought. Why can’t God have created the universe in six metaphorical days through the Big Bang? And couldn’t have the first organic molecules organized into the first organisms, capable of evolving into what we are today? The world has mysteries that cannot be solved by mixing chemicals into a test tube and waiting for measurable results. Likewise, tangible issues cannot always be explained by religious myths. For example, I read in a National Geographic article how scientists are still trying to figure out what happens in the brain when two people love one another. Science is not able to explain emotions. They give people the capacity to develop morals, culture, and religion. Without emotions, people would not have the desire to believe in God and learn more about religion. </p>
<p>Together, these two ideas are crucial for me. To me, believing in only one of these ideas would leave me feeling empty or desiring more. Both sides fuel my desire to learn, whether it be about God or the experiments soon to be conducted at the Large Hadron Collider (a particle accelerator) at the European Organization for Nuclear Research. In August, particle beams were inserted into the particle accelerator and then scientists must wait for a collision. They hope that they will have the opportunity to see first-hand what occurred billions of years ago during the creation of our universe. We all need to take these two clashing ideas and allow them to collide. Once they collide, we will be able to discuss and debate with one another about the roles of religion and science in our lives.</p>
<p>i really like your essay and i feel the same way. though, i once thought that i could believe in both God and evolution. then i read the bible, which says that creatures were created in their own kind, ruling out evolution.</p>
<p>i'm still suspicious about this idea, but once this archaeologist gave a talk at my church and talked about how in the medieval times dinosaurs lived among humans, just endangered, and were described as dragons. then he asked, if not, where did the idea of the ferocious beasts come from? and how are there statues of them?</p>
<p>I am, too, very fascinated with this topic. However, I think that fact that ideas of ferocious beasts and statues of dragons existing in the middle ages is not quite a strong argument for evolution. Mediaeval culture, being largely religious, is rife with myths and superstition and the land of the fantastical is partly a by-product of this. I personally believe supersition and religion are inextricably linked- the latter being a case of an excess of the former. The existence of these fantastical creatures in the literature of Mediaeval societies thus need not point to the physical existence of dinosaurs/dragons but perhaps an increasing interest and awareness of the horrors of the underworld. </p>
<p>That said, nice work on reconciling a traditionally difficult topic, Ummy. Really liked reading your essay.</p>
<p>^ummy. very nicely organized, but sounded something straight from Dan Brown's Angels&Demons. Something that Dr.Vetra would say ;)</p>
<p>haha you are so right kowloon, i didn't even think of that!</p>
<p>That was very funny! I laughed out loud. Here's a question I think U of C should ask on the application - Is comedy important?</p>
<p>b_hand. I learned something reading your post. Thanks</p>
<p>I'll post this before I go to bed. Got in early, and I wish all those applying on January 1st the best of luck!</p>
<p>...Wow, I think my essay was much longer than it should have been, seeing all of yours.</p>
<p>For the Chicago essay prompt 3</p>
<p>Ive always liked streets.
I dont know why. Theres just something honest about them. A street has to lead somewhere. Theres got to be a start and theres got to be an end, unless of course the street makes a circle (but we all know that a circular street would be a bit silly).
I like to walk down streets. Its a good way to get a sample of wherever you are. A teasing taste of a city can be found on any metropolitan sidewalk, if you take in what it has to offer.
If Im going to tell a story of a street, I cant pick just one. There have been so many streets Ive walked down, so many streets Ive enjoyed. Still, memories of my favorite streets are in my mind, waiting to be told, and I might as well make use of the time-honored adage of write what you know. Because if I know anything, I know streets.</p>
<p>The first ten years of my life were spent in Berkeley and San Francisco. My childhood memories flicker between the fragmented and vague all I remember of my lower school is that it was on a terrible, steep hill I had to climb every day to be picked up and I hated that hill so much god I hated that hill and the crystal clear we went to a shelter to see if we could find a dog and all the dogs were barking and throwing themselves against the cages but there was one dog a dalmatian with only one bright blue eye who was quiet just so quiet and stared at me as I left and I felt so guilty and terrible like there was a hole in my stomach draining out the juices out But amidst all the images, Solano Avenue stands out in my memory. </p>
<p>Solano was a treasure trove of everything you could imagine. It was always bright and sunny in California, so bright that everything stood out in vibrant colors and the sun reflecting off the parked cars made it hard to see. The pavement on Solano Avenue was always sun-warmed but rough and gravely, so any attempt to walk down it barefoot was stymied by my fragile footpads. There was a bakery that sold pizza dough that my mother would buy because she could never get the dough she made herself to rise. There was a store called the Bone Room, a never-ending source of mysticism to me, a dark place that smelled funny but had shiny dead beetles and peacock feathers, scorpions encased in plastic paperweights, fossils and real skeletons and a shopkeeper who didnt mind endless questions of whats this whats that. There were so many stores on Solano Avenue. If a store closed, it would be replaced by a new one in a matter of months. I wanted to do everything and see everything and Solano Avenue had everything and that was Solano Avenue.</p>
<p>I moved to Seattle when I graduated from lower school. I didnt like it at first, but I came to love it more than I ever loved Berkeley. Seattle is so soft. The rain not even rain, more like a fog that goes too far keeps edges smooth and colors demure. Berkeley was sun-brightened colors and brittle brown grass that crunched when I stepped on it, while Seattle is rain-muted colors and lush green grass that I can sink my toes into. Seattle is polite, peaceful, and quiet, and like most Seattleites, I intend to leave here as fast as I can, live it up a little, and come back when I want to raise kids. When I moved to Seattle, I traded flashy, dazzling, ever-changing Solano for the serene and stable Madison Park.</p>
<p>The street from Downtown to Lake Washington goes through Madison Park. Its a 15 minute walk to the lake if I cut through the vast green golf course, and now that my dog is getting older and squirrels seem to be getting faster than they used to be its her preferred walking route. People take their dogs down there in good weather, and in Madison Park Muffin can acquaint herself with the local smell of the day. Its mainly small eateries and a few shops, so its ideal to stroll down during lunch time. I can walk down to the lake and watch the few brave swimmers face the freezing water, or sit on a bench and reflect. Madison Park is a very Seattle place, like a slice of the city mentality cut out and neatly packaged.</p>
<p>The traffic in the street is minimal. Seattle natives take politeness to heart, even when driving, which looks good at first glance but is less ideal when nobody can get anywhere because two drivers at an intersection are caught in a litany of you go first no, you should go first! Rinse, repeat. </p>
<p>When I visited Nanjing during my stint at the John Hopkins Center for Talented Youth program, I saw a very different approach to streets and traffic: Ill go first, and youll suck it up and deal.
The teacher asked us Can you guess why the streets are so wide but the buildings are so narrow? and we made our guesses. Buildings in Nanjing are tiny, dirty, boxy things, but the streets are several lanes, perfectly maintained and cleaned every night by street cleaner cars that for some reason play the song Happy Birthday to You as they clean. The sidewalks are narrow and theres phone numbers painted everywhere theres no phone book in China because theres no profit in maintaining a book like that for people who move every three months. You make contacts with people, and if you want an exterminator youll ask around until they find their friends uncles college roommates wifes nephews previous employer who is an exterminator and youre set. Those without access to their friends uncles college roommates wifes nephews previous employer rely on the numbers scrawled on the ground and the walls .You could say traffic is a nightmare. Crossing the street is certainly an ordeal you hightail it across because theres no guarantee they wont hit you and speed away. Every car looks like its going to crash into another any minute but then it doesnt and it never does. Theres a rhythm that everyone follows, like the gears on a clock fitting into place to make the hands move. Traffic laws are more of a guideline, and you can shirk them with little fear of backlash, but if you do something to break the rhythm and mess up the way the cars move along people will get furious. Its not pretty, but it works. It shouldnt work, but it works. A bit like China itself.</p>
<p>University of Chicago is my first choice for college. My dad tells me I have a 50-50 chance, which isnt so bad, considering the prestige of this school. I like the feeling the school has. I like how it seems to match my sense of humor, which is rather wry. And I like Chicago.
I have a confession to make: My name is Babs, and I am a 1920s-holic. The 1920s were just so interesting. The progress, the music, the slapdash carelessness that inevitably led to ruin, the slang, the fashion, the slinky vamps and chirpy flappers, the slick sheiks and savvy shebas, the crazy contests and lavish parties, the allure of the speakeasy and the brutal efficiency of the Mob. I could go on. So, when I think Chicago, I think about the Chicago of the past. When I visited Chicago for the first time, I didnt think I would find the Chicago of the 20s. Those times are past. Still, I didnt expect Chicago to be so very tall.
Because it is. Tall, I mean. Great vertical buildings sprouting from the sidewalk. Theres no slope to these giants of metal and glass they just go straight up, and it feels like walking in rows of very narrow canyons. Thin strips of sky fight it out with building tops.
The livid battle of sky and steel rages on, and youd best look up, because some of the grandest entertainment is in the sky. Theres quite a lot of stuff on roofs, filigree and frescos and fantastical faces frozen in a frieze of frantic and furious feelings fashioned in stone and dotted between shuttered windows. The older, gothic architecture that wrestles with the higher, shinier pieces of the present is a feast for the eyes, the intricacy of the rooftop decoration like a maze and oh, wouldnt it be nice to go up there and poke around, if not for the whole oxygen level thing?
Chicago is also broad. Where Seattle is primly tucked around a bay on Puget Sound, Chicago sprawls, wide and twisted, elbowing its way down Lake Michigan and spreading its legs into Northern Illinois. Id say I could wander around for days in Chicago and still not cover half of it. The streets are more impersonal, or at least the ones I crossed. Thousands of shoes squeak and scrape over the over the pavement every day, and it leaves them grey and worn. Its the fate of all big cities, these worn streets. Ive hardly had time to explore them, so I cant say much more than that. Still, let us part with an amusing anecdote from my visit.
We were driving down one of the streets and a pedestrian looked like he wanted to cross. My mom, in proper Seattleite fashion, slowed down to let him cross, since there were no cars behind us. He stared at us, honestly shocked, before holding out his hands and enthusiastically exclaiming Oh my god! Thank you! and crossed the street with every visible sign of enjoyment. We looked at each other and started to laugh, and continued our way out of the city, led back to the airport by an honest stretch of street.</p>