Post Your essay

<p>i went through numerous essays posted in this thread and I found most of them absolutely outstanding..bravo to all of you..as for me,i am on the same page as UHSdebater; not too creative but very informative about me as a person..</p>

<p>Prompt #2, zooming in and out.</p>

<p>Eye contact broke as my attention shifted to the intermittent blue light omitted from the silver plastic device protruding from the man’s ear. Too many hours in the tanning bed, too much hair coloring, and too much jewelry, screamed Hollywood. This type was not uncommon at this California Starbucks; everyone wanted to be in the “movie business.” “Let me get,” he demanded, “a skinny vanilla latter, two pumps of sugar-free vanilla, and at one hundred eighty degrees.” “Got that?” he barked. I got it. Surprisingly, my little Starbucks barista brain was able to process his complicated demands. Those on the far-reaching outskirts of my universe, those who only saw me as a Studio City Starbucks barista, saw me as a commodity; I was a vending machine with a smile.<br>
Traveling towards the epicenter of my universe, we zoom-in on my Starbucks colleagues. My coworkers found me a bit of an enigma. They were unable to figure out why I traded my expensive car, office with a view, secretary, and six-figure income for making Studio City’s finest Hollywood personalities’ coffee beverages. Equally vexing, how was it that this intelligent young man— with exceptional work experience— does not know how to mop a floor?<br>
My former colleagues at ABC Investments knew me much better than my Starbucks coworkers, but I suspect they too, did not really understand me. Among the thirty or so Financial Advisors operating in this branch, I stuck out like a sore thumb. “I have shoes older than him,” Bob—the Advisor in the next office down—always joked in client meetings. Although I may have looked like a perpetual “take your son to work day” participant, my colleagues gave me tremendous respect. I was young, nearly twenty years younger than the average advisor, insatiably ambitious, and relentlessly hard working. When I tendered my resignation to return to higher education, most everyone in the office was dumbfounded. I had a tremendously successful practice, at an unheard of age. They thought I was “throwing away” an “unbelievable opportunity.” I couldn’t disagree with them more.
Closer we travel, until reaching my closest friends and family. These people get me. I’m sure of it. I don’t tell most people that my father passed away, and that I worked through high school not only out of ambition, but also out of necessity. The friends and family in my close orbit know the challenges I have faced. “I’m sorry es four,” they say, “you’ve had a tough life.” I guess I never really understood those apologies. Life is hard, but that’s what makes it fun and interesting. “We’re so proud of you,” my mother and grandmother say as we enjoy the balmy Palatka, Florida weather. “But, you just started studying at Columbia University, an Ivy League school.” I smile and politely brush the question aside; after all, Christmas is no time for quarrels. I guess they don’t understand that being in this league or that league isn’t among the top reasons I choose one school over the next. Come to think of it.... Do these people know me at all?
Looking from the outside inwards, at various levels and distances, the mantra of misunderstanding prominently recurs. So here I am, the center of the universe. I wonder, will the individuals that I meet at the University of Chicago finally unlock the puzzle that is me? Unlikely. I suspect that being five years older than my classmates will only generate speculation. But, I do think that my peers at the University of Chicago will be able to understand the fundamental factor that even my closest family members neglect. It isn’t about attending a marquee university to land the corner-office job as superficial objects only offer short-lived satisfaction. College is the ideal time for exponential personal growth by moving beyond the comfort zone, and expanding horizons.<br>
Curiously, I often found my work as a Starbucks barista more intellectually challenging than my work as an ABC Investments Financial Advisor. The seemingly challenging tasks of portfolio constriction and stock selection had been grossly over-simplified by technology. I would imagine that most of today’s computer literate children could build a well-diversified portfolio with access to the right programs. As a barista—and non-coffee drinker— I was asked to familiarize myself with a myriad of coffee based beverages, which was not easy. People have a hard time moving beyond the perceptions associated with a title as important sounding as: “ABC Investments Financial Advisor.” This title certainly carries hefty responsibility, but it also leaves much to be desired. What my family, coworkers, and— to a lesser extent— the strangers I encounter fail to understand, is that I seek intellectual challenge, and an environment where the mind is encouraged to live. </p>

<p>My transfer essay-- After reading the others posted, I don't feel so good about it.</p>

<p>@Degeneration
Thanks. I'm glad you enjoied it.</p>

<p>@ everyone.
You don't really have to be creative. I went that route because that is the way I love to write. If you don't do the creative thing then stick to what you do know and do.</p>

<p>Here was my attempt at failure. It dealt with the essay prompt that said something about streets and learning from the history of streets.</p>

<p>Walking</p>

<p>“All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking” –Friedrich Nietzsche
The name of the street was almost as outlandish as the beauty of the night. The water carefully rocked against the canals as a pink sun set under the deep blue of the ocean. It was the precision of the Netherlands mixed with the incongruent madness of Amsterdam, and at that spot, there was life. There were tourists taking pictures, there were sandwich dealers taking orders, and there was a certain bench. It was your ordinary bench, filled with graffiti, painted in a mixture near that of the ocean, and cast down upon by an archaic lamppost. On this bench though was something rare.<br>
The temperature could not have been more suitable for a late summer evening. The old cars sputtered past in a gentle blur that fused with the neon lights to create a perpetual ambience that softly bounced off the cement. Standing there, entranced in this symphony of movement, I watched the people moving all around. I saw the man signaling a taxi, the young teens vehemently expressing to each other, and my cousins clamoring over which ice-cream would taste better. I saw the lights of Tehran spread out under me like the candles of a vigil, and I saw a peculiar spectacle at a corner where a convenience store and a shoe shop joined.
The new day hailed us under its deep dark swath of sky. As the blank sheets of sidewalk passed beneath my feet under the stars and lights of Manhattan, I caught something. It was a small twinkle near the size of a firefly, but its light was stronger than the sun’s. It was the gleam of the necklace, the shimmer of the braces, the sparkle from the camera, but it was also the old couple holding each other on the bench in Amsterdam, it was the young boy giving change to an impoverished woman in Iran, and it was the “Thank You” as I handed a woman the map she dropped.
Down the linear galleries of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, observing the likes of Picasso and Van Gogh, I heard some man talking in a fast paced gibberish on some distant thing called stocks and bonds. What I was hearing though was what I’ve wanted to do ever since. When I walk out onto the soccer field as lights shine off the little droplets of dew on the field, passion builds in me as potently as magma in a volcano. When I walk as a volunteer to the Free Medical Clinic I see faces that hold such hope- even in despair- that seeing them gives me unimaginable hope. Once I walked down the streets of McAllen, Texas. I saw mosquitoes the size of small birds, and to this day, I will always remember those mosquitoes as the reason I want to move north.<br>
When I walk, something always strikes me. My father used to say it when I was a kid, and after years of debate, I finally ended the worn out clich</p>

<p>Wow, all of these are excellent and so unique. UChi should turn these into some sort of collection of short stories and creative nonfiction. Here's mine (I created my own topic):</p>

<p>What would my room say about me?</p>

<p>I am a 12 foot by 14 foot box. My walls run 10 feet high, textured, and glazed with alternating shades of goldfish orange and fish tank blue. Although my ceiling, years ago, sported the once popular cottage cheese look, it is now as clean-cut and smooth as linoleum. Like the anglerfish and her esca, I dangle an orb of light from the center of my ceiling to lure creatures from the outside world into my lair. I once acted the esteemed role of guest room, during which visitors from all over passed through me, bringing that enthralling airplane scent of recycled air, or the intoxicating rental car smell of stale cigarette smoke stirred with cherry throat lozenges. Oh, how times were exciting! Then, one Leland J. (although I will refer to him here by his Universal Title, 1989965, as conferred on him by the Common App in all its wisdom) moved in, not long after the amniotic fluid was wiped from his putrid little baby body. As if I were in some sort of story, I could see the chapter of my exciting youth end, and the chapter of my monotonous days as caretaker begin. </p>

<p>My gorgeous 168 square foot (.0039 acre) expanse is defiled by 1989965’s presence. My capacious shelves are cluttered with amethysts, agates and opals (all part of his pathetic attempt at a rock collection); burdened with meaningless marble and plastic debate trophies; lined with books, ranging from literary smut like Cloud Atlas to the “course catalog” for what I can only presume is some large bazaar in Chicago. And my pristine walls! That tyrant took blunt needles and slowly, excruciatingly, torturously bored them into the epithelial layer of my plaster merely to hang his poster of Wallace Stevens, various reproductions of artwork, and a few smiling photographs. Da Vinci’s obscene “Vitruvian Man” glares across my internal cavity. 1989965 calls this monstrosity a “beacon of equilibrium, serving as a constant reminder that balance and eternal curiosity are necessary to achieve a rich, meaningful life.” I call it a pain-in-the-wall. 1989965 has turned my floor into a rash of books and paper. In one corner towers a series of physics and calculus binders, textbooks, and homework-in-progress. Diametrically opposite this edifice rests a puddle of literature criticisms, novels, and essays-in-progress.</p>

<p>In, out, in, out… 1989965 comes and goes as he rides the undulations of life, sometimes abandoning me for days, sometimes remaining ensconced within me for 24 hour periods (usually if he has a large essay due the proceeding day). He lies in his bed, staring into the muted glow of his laptop’s screen. Now, don’t call me a Luddite, but I hate all technology (with the exception of the vacuum cleaner). 1989965 claims his laptop is a multipurpose window into a realm of knowledge and information, but it’s really just a device engineered to feed society’s hedonism and blissful ignorance. Sure, it can be used for communication, research, complex calculations, art making, scientific modeling, and a host of other functions, but who actually uses it for that? It is simply a distraction!
Almost as bad as the laptop is the window that some mediocre architect forced into me. 1989965 sits poised, either in front of his laptop or behind a novel, ready to write or read. As he proceeds, however, he frequently stands up, stretches, paces — all while gazing out of that window, immersed in some trivial thought. Outside erupts a blindingly sanguine Japanese maple whose brilliant hues obtrusively penetrate my depths. He stands, watching the elements transmute the tree and its ambient glow, fascinated by its ability to remain erect despite its chaotic backdrop. I remain steadfast in supplying warmth and shelter, yet 1989965 doesn’t spend time lingering on me. I am his aquarium, the transparent caging through which he gazes (and through which you now inspect his character), obtuse to my existence, much like Matisse’s goldfish.</p>

<p>From what I have read of 1989965’s essays, he is fascinated with those silly philosophies of Postmodernism and Existentialism. It seems that he frequently reflects on the indifference of the world to his life. Foul hypocrite — have you ever given attention to the universe?! I shriek silently. Perhaps if your worries and concerns extended to the realm of objects you consider “dead” and without “feelings,” the universe would return the favor. You care so much for the environment, but what about your environment? I yell, but he never listens.</p>

<p>I consider myself a stoic, so I don’t care anyway. Besides, he will be leaving in 8 months, or ⅔ of a year. Then, I will reclaim my glory as Guest room/Home office! Until that day, let him tread my waters. I will endure.</p>

<p>^ HA! Although, had I seen this before the deadline, I would've advised you to sneak in a "breaking the fourth wall" joke, just for kicks. =)</p>

<p>As for me, I'm still trying hard to understand how and why I wrote about Batman. So ridiculous and awesome, all at the same time.</p>

<p>You wrote a Batman essay? That is awesome. lol.</p>

<p>Ahhh, that would have been amazingly punny.</p>

<p>I posted it a few pages earlier. It's about Crime Alley, where Bruce Wayne's parents were gunned down in front of him after watching The Mask of Zorro. I was answering the question about a road of any sort. </p>

<p>It's pretty damn spectacular, cause you wouldn't know I was talking about Batman until the very end (unless you already read comics/watched the 90s cartoon and knew his origin story, and the names of his parents), therefore than can be no uneducated assumptions about where I was going with my writing.</p>

<p>lol. Very nice. lol. It is great. lol. I love Batman</p>

<p>It's a great essay. However, I disagree with the notion that one wouldn't know it was Batman till the end. You said "Gotham City" in the beginning of the second paragraph, most people can recognize that it has something to do with Batman through that. But that doesn't matter, because your essay is extremely well-written. Good job!</p>

<p>hey, guys, don't be TOO trusting with your essay. people can be ugly. someone could very easily take your words.
congrats on your wicked cool work, though, everyone!</p>

<p>Yea/ They can try but Mine has already been read adn all that so they can try. More than likly they will be causing more trouble for themselves. I made sure to wait till after ED and all that to post. lol</p>

<p>for my interests...</p>

<p>My friends and I live by the expression “we don’t just like it, we LOVE IT.” The word ‘love’ is not applied lightly. Truly, as I have matured, I have become especially passionate about my interests. Whether it is my love for tube socks or my summer pastimes, I have discovered numerous activities, musicians, and sports, and sports teams that I truly love.</p>

<p>My typical summer pastimes range from traditional childish games to exploring the outdoors and the city. Whether I am chasing the ice cream truck, swinging on the playground, participating in water balloon fights, or racing scooters, I savor my youth and remain active. Other times, nature offers me both excitement and solace, whether I go hiking with some close friends, enjoy the beauty of the beach, or run through a serene state park like Harold Parker State Forest or Maudslay State Park. The peacefulness of the woods and animal life is pure bliss on a summer day. I also enjoy exploring what both Boston and Cambridge have to offer. Sometimes this means enjoying the mouth-watering super burritos from Anna’s Taqueria, trying the various ethnic restaurants in the area, going to small cafes around the city to meet interesting people and musicians, sitting down to read books in the COOP bookstores, or listening to music in the local haunts.</p>

<p>On rainy days, when I’m not running or reading, I will attempt to fashion vintage items from my mother’s past to wear today. Sometimes this means reusing the denim from her old jeans to recreate a new shape and personalized version for myself. Other times, I combine an old hat from her childhood in Bangkok with her purse from the 1980s. Using her apparel from different eras to express myself gives me a better perspective of who she is and how I am a reflection of her, nevertheless my own person.</p>

<p>Yet, as a person I cannot be described by only certain characteristics, or by specific taste in music. More accurately, I have different moods, in which I prefer different genres of music. Relaxation occurs to the sweet words of Jack Johnson or melodies of Cahill. I will exercise to the beats of M.I.A. or Yelle, both unabashed, feisty female musicians. Rihanna and Chris Brown will always start a dance party, while Rascal Flatts, Taylor Swift, and Red Hot Chili Peppers will inspire sing-alongs. Often, I am an active listener—exercising, dancing, or singing, but when it comes down to the soundtrack of my room I will stand by Tim Blaine, Ben Folds, Vampire Weekend, and the Gym Class Heroes. I appreciate the genuine essence of their records and can be either excited or calmed by their music.</p>

<p>As a resident of Greater Boston, I am a passionate Red Sox, Celtics, Patriots, and Revolution fan. Being relatively close in age (3 years) to my older brother, I grew up as an active tomboy interested in playing sports. Though I am no longer as dedicated to participating in most contact sports, I still love and regularly participate in tennis, running, ultimate, badminton, table tennis, cricket, skiing, and figure skating. They offer me to different opportunities to be intense, calm, or simply have fun. Almost as enjoyable though as playing these sports is attending professional sporting events or just cheering on one of these awesome teams from my downstairs TV set. I honestly believe I am significantly better at math and statistics having watched so many games and read so many sports pages. Though the recent success of Boston sports teams has been truly amazing, I do not want to be spoiled by these victories. Even in the down years of the Celtics, the experience was still rewarding to watch the games and follow the team. Though I have been lucky enough to attend probably 15 of these sporting events in person, I really value the experience as sensational every time I go to Fenway Park or attempt to finish my homework still glued to the TV. Having been a sports fan for the majority of my life to date, I have learnt to recognize that the purest form of sports represents life. Hard work, dedication, happiness, team responsibility, defeat, setbacks, the notion of experience and success: it’s all there.</p>

<p>I will admit that my interests change every minute of every day as I am exposed to more and more of the world around me. I have grown and matured throughout the years and contrary to my first 7 years of inhabitance on planet earth, I now love spinach. Yet, I look back and I am somewhat same, including that special spot in my heart for Boston sports fanaticism. Regardless of the future, this is the present: this is who I am today. DO YOU LOVE IT?</p>

<p>Ooh, I forgot that there are new prompts every year. I got accepted with this one -- too much fun to write!</p>

<p>Prompt: Particle accelerator thought experiment.</p>

<p>...</p>

<pre><code>0600 hours. We have only just gained entry of the now defunct laboratory. Preliminary assessments of the abandoned Tevatron are being carried out by our technical unit. Dr. Korshunov and I, meanwhile, must ready ourselves for this momentous experiment, surely to be followed by our glorious immortality in scientific history. The logic behind our admittedly clandestine initiative (though the legality of our actions will have no bearing in the end) is, without question, justifiable: Disease, that scourge of all mankind, runs rampant even in today’s highly advanced society. Everywhere—from the more disadvantaged African nations where tuberculosis, HIV, and AIDS decimate populations, to the most developed technological giants in the West where arbitrary millions succumb to cancer—maladies have plagued humanity since the beginning of time. Dr. Korshunov and I both feel that the human race should not concede its greatness, augmented by countless centuries of evolution and innovation, to an entity as trivial and primeval as Disease. The hypothesis we have developed after several months of collaboration is thus: If Disease (exhibiting its natural negative charge) collides with Cure (exhibiting its natural positive charge) at an energy of approximately one tera-electron volt, then the resulting collision will cause these two opposite entities to negate each other, therefore eliminating Disease and, at the same time, the need for Cure. This brilliantly simple solution would elevate the quality of living for all humans in an instant, allowing them to live longer, more pleasant lives.

1145 hours. Dr. Korshunov expressed some concerns about the potential difficulties caused by the failure of our experiment, but I was able to convince him, for the thirteenth time, that the risk of success far outweighs that of failure. The technical unit needs only to complete Stage VII of their final assessment before we may commence our experimentation. Pre-acceleration to 750 kilo-electron volts will occur at approximately 1230 hours.

1230 hours. We have successfully positioned Disease and Cure—they are at present being pre-accelerated. The next stage of acceleration will bring them to 400 mega-electron volts; they will proceed then to 150 giga-electron volts. The collision will occur soon after.

1300 hours. At this very moment the particles indicate an energy of 215 mega-electron volts. I lack the words to describe my utter exhilaration in full, but do have quite a few for Korshunov when this is finished. Panic has overcome the fool, and he has settled for hovering at the back of the room to watch the proceedings in apprehension. We will see how much of the prize money he pockets.

1315 hours. Again, I have no words. The experiment proved to be—it pains me to say so—a horrific failure. Instead of counteracting each other, Disease and Cure, at such high energies, multiplied on an enormous scale, producing thousands—perhaps millions—of new, mutant medical conditions. Most fortunately, the corresponding treatments accompanied them, but even so, I never anticipated such a catastrophic outcome. Dr. Korshunov has insisted that we remain here rather than fleeing before authorities can pinpoint the source of the calamity to this laboratory; we must serve penance for our prodigious offense. He was correct before; I will now adhere to his direction.

Oh, how the arrogance of mankind blinded me!
</code></pre>

<p>...</p>

<p>Cheesy last line, right? Eh, it makes me cringe.</p>

<p>I vividly remember trawling through this thread a few months ago and thinking there was absolutely no way I was going to get into Chicago. It feels pretty crazy coming back to post my own essays for future applicants, now that I've been accepted!</p>

<p>So here's my 2 cents - really, really, really just be yourself. It's easy to get swept away by all the creative genius contained in this thread and end up writing something that sounds cheap and gimmicky. The essay that got me in was written the day before the deadline, when I had just about given up hope that anything I could write could compare to some of the stuff in this thread. </p>

<p>But all I needed was the right topic - its easy to feel like your essay isn't "quirky" or "weird" enough for Chicago. But the chances are, if you really care about it, that will come through and I truly believe that's what the admissions officers are looking for. I still feel my essay pales in comparison to so many others on here, but yeah, just chill and have fun with it - it worked for me! Anyway, I'll stop there. Good luck!</p>

<p>Zoom in and out on a person, place, event, or subject of interest. What becomes clear from far away that you can’t see up close? What intricate structures appear when you move closer? How is the big view related to the small, the emptiness to the richness?</p>

<p>Sometime, somewhere, a boy stands on stage with one hand raised. He feels the possessive pulse of the beat in his bones compelling him to vibrate, ever more violently, ever closer to ecstasy. His mouth is closed, but make no mistake, he is speaking. His left hand clutches a battle-scarred guitar; six steel strings shimmer in the spotlight – they are the microphone to his soul. Looking out into the darkness, he can see no one, but has never felt less alone. Bringing his hand down with all the strength he can muster, he screams through the strings, everything he wants the world to know. He screams that he is alive.</p>

<p>Something incredible is happening. We zoom in, rushing towards the six strings, passing them. The physical manifestation of the boy’s voice is now hurtling through a snaking cable, an unstoppable electric signal. We follow it, flying through an obstacle course of silicone and plastic, transistors and resistors, before reaching its destination - a large speaker cone. The cone throbs wildly, transforming the boy’s voice yet again, this time into vibrations in the air. We zoom in further still, focusing on the air molecules as they rush like a wave outwards, into oblivion.</p>

<p>Except it is not oblivion. The sound waves break over a pinna, or the outer part of a human ear, and rush down the ear canal, fighting their way through a mass of tiny bones and fluid. Reaching the cochlea, they are translated into chemical impulses, which travel like electricity through a labyrinth of nerves to the cerebral cortex. Finally, at the base of the brain, the pea sized pituitary gland releases endorphins into the blood stream. And sometime, somewhere, a girl closes her eyes and smiles. </p>

<p>Without saying a word, the boy has reached out across the room, through metal, air, flesh and bone, to touch a stranger. </p>

<p>Reversing the process, we pull away. We leave the small hall in which the boy and girl are, to find ourselves surveying a nondescript suburb, nestled in the nondescript landscape surrounding a nondescript city. This could be anywhere. After a pause we pull away again, faster and further this time. Here, hovering at the edge of the Earth’s atmosphere, the countries and continents all look more or less the same - large nondescript masses of green and brown, separated by blue. All is silent.</p>

<p>Yet we know that below us, at this very second, there are thousands of scenes playing out, similar to the one we just witnessed. In a dark room full of people, notes slide off a woman’s fingertips, whispering of love as they slip into the shadows. A million miles away, a man sings of peace to a football stadium crowd. In one way or another, people are reaching out with music. Some reach right into the soul, sparking a light: in the girl who sings into a hairbrush in her room; in the boy who rocks out on a tennis racket, to an imaginary crowd of thousands. This is the self-perpetuating cycle of musical inspiration. </p>

<p>Music is a language we all speak, whether or not we play an instrument. It is the sound of joy, love, sadness, and pain, with neither allegiance to, nor respect for the differences we choose to create between ourselves. It has the power to move and inspire. Yet, it has to do neither of these things. Sometimes, it is simply one individual’s way of letting another know he’s alive.</p>

<p>As a side note, I just realized I used the word "soul" twice... At least we know the admissions officers don't mind cheese! Why Chicago and Optional essays coming up next.</p>

<p>Why Chicago:</p>

<p>“What?! Is that even allowed?! How can that be an essay question?!” were some of the thoughts running through my head during a University of Chicago talk at my school in Hong Kong, two years ago. I was instantly intrigued by the unique approach, which told me something about the university. Those questions seemed designed to reward those who thought outside of the box. And from there, the logical inference was that the University of Chicago is an institution that thinks outside the box. In that realization, I caught a glimpse of what the University of Chicago stands for, and from that point, I was hooked.</p>

<p>On my gap year now, I’ve had lots of time to do more research. In short, I can’t think of a university I’d rather attend. Chicago’s emphasis on interdisciplinary study perfectly matches my interest in areas like Sustainable Development and Radical Islam, which require examining through multiple lenses. In particular, its Big Problems courses seem a fantastic opportunity to deepen my knowledge of inextricably linked world issues such as poverty, world hunger, AIDS, war and terrorism. Similarly, its numerous opportunities for undergraduate research would not only enrich my understanding of International Relations, but also allow me to potentially contribute to the field.</p>

<p>But while these aspects of the University of Chicago undoubtedly contribute to its standing amongst the elite institutions, they are not what most appeal to me. Rather, it is that ever free spirited approach to learning - that willingness to defy convention, that so forcefully grabbed my attention two years ago - that cements my conviction. After all, its long history of groundbreaking research and Nobel Prize winning faculty and alumni, speak of a university steeped in a tradition of innovation. That is why the University of Chicago is perfect for me. </p>

<p>But an equally important question is: why am I perfect for the University of Chicago? Yes, I am someone who devours books, takes extra non-curriculum classes and seeks out intellectual stimulation. But that is clearly not what distinguishes me. On the contrary, what makes me a unique candidate is that I realize education is about more than reading books and taking classes. Knowledge is an end, but also a means – a means to make a difference, like so many Chicago graduates have. A means to fully experience the endless opportunities this world presents us, in the true spirit of Crescat scientia; vita excolatur.</p>

<p>Optional Essay:</p>

<p>I treasure the day I discovered Miles Davis’ seminal jazz rock album, *****es Brew. It had a huge impact on me both as a listener and a musician, and for the next few weeks, I would let nothing else grace my ears. I’ve always felt it has a unique vibe to it – dark yet upbeat, chaotic yet composed – that for me, evokes images of crazed witch doctors dancing by firelight, around a New Orleans swamp. Eyes closed, I would lose myself in its mysterious, dissonant textures, waiting in anticipation for Miles’ poetic interjections; his honeyed phrasings and abrasive staccato lines never failed to surprise and delight in equal measure.</p>

<p>As I’ve just demonstrated to myself, trying to accurately quantify the pleasure music brings is near impossible. But there are two writers who I believe do it exceptionally well. The first is Jack Kerouac. On The Road completely changed the way I view literature and music writing in particular. Kerouac was able to perfectly articulate the tumultuous peaks and tranquil lows that often make music so arresting. In one passage, where he sits transfixed by the pianist, Slim Gaillard, the essence of the music itself seems to flow right through him onto the page, bringing with it, his crazy sense of understanding. A lightning rod of ideas and emotions - a deranged medium - he somehow captures the intangible.</p>

<p>The second writer, who is not dissimilar to Kerouac in style, is Lester Bangs. One of the most revered rock writers of all time, Bangs delivered intelligent, stream-of-consciousness driven prose, suffused with bucket loads of attitude. I only wish he released an actual book, so I would have more to savor than reviews, travelogues and commentaries. As a music writer, I take much inspiration from these two writers and their skill in conveying the simple joys induced by the complexities of music.</p>

<p>Question:
What exactly would happen if you crashed two seemingly unrelated bodies together in a
particle accelerator? Furthermore, if a third object were implemented, how would its
presence affect the result?</p>

<p>Materials Needed:
Particle Accelerator (Tevatron) (x1)
Crazy Physics Guys (x5)
Echo049 (x1)
Europa (x1)
University of Chicago Phoenix (x1)</p>

<p>Information:
Europa, one of Jupiter’s moons, is covered with ice. Thus, astronomers theorize
that there possibly could be life to be found on it.
Echo049, an applicant to the University of Chicago, has this insane idea that
he can help NASA explore Europa.
The crazy physics guys are commendable and respectable individuals. They are also as crazy as Mr. Echo049.</p>

<p>Procedure:

  1. Confirm all subjects are sanitized and fit to be placed in accelerator.
  2. Take Europa and place it in the particle accelerator.
  3. Do the same with Mr. Echo049.
  4. Have crazy physics guys put on safety goggles (apocalyptic explosions could cause mild seizures or schizophrenia).
  5. Rev up the accelerator and observe experiment.
  6. Record results.
  7. Separate the Mr. Echo049 from Europa, and remove them from accelerator.
  8. Return both subjects to the accelerator, along with one University of Chicago Phoenix.
  9. If removed, resume use of safety goggles.
  10. Rev up the accelerator and observe experiment.
  11. Record results.
  12. Repeat experiment</p>

<p>Data/Results:
Experiment 1 (Trial 1): Europa + Echo049
Resulted in Echo049 spending years in his backyard trying to send his model Millennium Falcon up into orbit around Jupiter. Sadly, he failed to make it past Earth’s atmosphere.
Experiment 1 (Trial 2): Europa + Echo049
Resulted in Echo049 accidentally exploding Europa into little pieces of ice due to an ion charge backfire, and creating an asteroid belt around Jupiter. All possible life terminated.
Experiment 2 (Trial 1): Europa + Echo049 + U-Chicago Phoenix
Resulted in Echo049 being lectured by Yoichiro Nambu on the different types of subatomic particles, and leading to the formation of a hyperdrive ion engine through subatomic fusion.
Experiment 2 (Trial 2): Europa + Echo049 + U-Chicago Phoenix
Resulted in Echo049 being awarded with the Nobel Prize for Physics for his help in discovering extraterrestrial life in the solar system.</p>

<p>Analysis:
If Echo049 wants to achieve his dreams of furthering astrophysics and aeronautics
beyond anything ever achieved before, it is necessary that he attend an institution known
as the University of Chicago. If all three components used in the experiment are meshed
together, the opportunity that he can do something great for the scientific community
increases by an infinite amount from his original chances. An education at such an
institution can bring him more knowledge, more resources, and more opportunities than
anywhere else in the world.</p>

<p>Conclusion:
To achieve desired results, subject Echo049 should attend the University of Chicago.
Opportunities like this don’t come often, and if the subject wants it (which he really,
really does), then he better get it, because this is it.</p>

<p>Possible confirmation of results:
Perhaps Dr. Nambu would like to give it a shot?</p>

<p>[Note: Yes, I did actually forget to write the hypothesis…]</p>

<p>Why Chicago:</p>

<pre><code> Fermilab has this big giant thing called Tevatron. They say when some smart
</code></pre>

<p>physics people put stuff in Tevatron, and send them swirling around a four-mile long
hoop at (almost) the speed of light, new things can be discovered. But that’s just what the
tabloids say.</p>

<pre><code> I know better. I know those smart guys actually are plotting to use Omega-sub-b’s
</code></pre>

<p>to somehow take over the world. They aren’t fooling me.</p>

<pre><code> However, let’s just assume, for all intents and purposes, that they ARE doing
</code></pre>

<p>what people think they’re doing. Answering unknowable questions. Postulating new
theories. Proposing new questions to be answered. Making up new terms to describe
things that they discover. If this is the case, these smart people really have the right idea.</p>

<pre><code> Thus, I aspire to join them at the University of Chicago. With world-renowned
</code></pre>

<p>research opportunities, globally acclaimed professors (Yoichiro Nambu!!), and probably
the quirkiest group of college students found anywhere, it’s a place that is just absolutely
right for me. If I want to someday discover life on Europa, or make running shoes that
emit flames for entertainment purposes, or perhaps create weapons of mass antidestruction
(trust me…it’ll work out), I need a stepping stone – an opportunity – to help
me attain that level of knowledge, research, and professionalism. The University of
Chicago certainly is the best springboard I have into that pool of learning and success.</p>

<pre><code> And, you know, taking over the world at the same time isn’t too shabby either.
</code></pre>

<p>Optional Essay:</p>

<pre><code> I am a guy. As a typical, teenage, American-bred guy, I am expected to enjoy
</code></pre>

<p>bloody war scenes, high-speed car chases, epic explosions, and gunfights between
automobiles that can transform into robots.</p>

<pre><code> And don’t get me wrong. I do like that stuff.

The concept of “chick flicks” was quite foreign to me before the seventh grade.

As a good little under-13-year-old child, I limited myself to Disney films and family
</code></pre>

<p>classics. I had memorized all of the Disney princess songs, and could name all the
Pokemon in order (sadly, I still am able to do that). As I grew older, my movie choice
expanded, but only to films like Braveheart and Gladiator. The lovey-dovey fiction of
contemporary movies never really affected me.</p>

<pre><code> Thus, after A Cinderella Story, I was repulsed at the fact that someone would even
</code></pre>

<p>take the time to make such a film. My enmity for chick flicks was ignited, just like that.</p>

<pre><code> I never would’ve expected that my favorite movie (ever) would be Love Actually.

I don’t know what about it clicked in me. Maybe it was the mere fact that I share
</code></pre>

<p>the name of the fictional Prime Minister of England. Maybe it was because some of the
stories paralleled my own life. Maybe it was because of the mere presence of Keira
Knightley in the film.</p>

<pre><code> All I know is that the old clich
</code></pre>

<p>Essay Option 1. “At present you need to live the question.” - Rainer Maria Rilke, translated from
the German by Joan M. Burnham.Inspired by Sarah Marikar, a third-year in the College</p>

<p>I am running faster and faster, panting like a dog desperate for water, my legs moving faster than
a cheetah, but where am I going? Physically my body is motionless, so how can I be moving? I hear
voices; my name echoed throughout ever corner of the room “Izes, Izes, Izes”, these words become
increasingly louder. Suddenly my legs stop moving, and I notice I am engulfed in an eternal black abyss.
“Where am I? What am I doing here? Someone answer me!” Silence prevailed and the yelling of my
name ceased. It became apparent this was not reality, but am I dreaming? Have I entered the confines of
my mind?</p>

<p>Out of the darkness five men arose, each seeming to be going through his own private adversities.
Engraved on each man’s chest were the names, Famine, War, Peace, Disease, and Poverty. One by one
they latched one to me, demanding their yearning be fulfilled. Famine demanded, “I have not eaten in
days, please feed me!” Poverty would request adequate shelter from the terrors at night and Disease
would beg me to cure him of his illnesses. As for War and Peace, War kept pestering me about his
fighting for a just-cause, while Peace yelled out, “We must stop the killing, tell me, why do we have to
die, we’re all God children?”</p>

<p>I asked myself what I shall do. Is this my purpose in life? Am I to fulfill their request? These
questions became the very darkness I sought the light, the mystery and the terrible unknown. Afraid of the
consequences of an inexperience swift response, I escaped the confines of this black abyss and opened the
doors to reality. However, these bewildering questions walked through with me, and became actual
problems in the real world</p>

<p>That which I did not know I feared, and that which I feared I sought. I said to myself, “Maybe my
answers lay within the colors of green, white, green, my homeland, Nigeria”. Maybe escaping the
materialistic world of America would allow me to better glorify guidance. I allowed this savage beast to consume me; these mystifying questions became my life, I began to see myself living these questions. </p>

<p>On July 7, I boarded a plane and embarked on my journey, “Edo State here I come”. Though I visited Nigeria countless times, my grandmother’s orphanage shed new meaning for me; it was my first time ever being there. And from corner to corner, the people where like no other; the veins of children popped out of their skull, their belly’s gave them the appearances of pregnant women, and the rib cages of man became one with human flesh. I wonder “Hath Poverty, Famine and Disease followed me?” I cried out “What is the meaning of this? Is this my purpose?”</p>

<p>How can I answer all their cries? For a time I wanted to embrace the field of humanitarian aid. I
would be able to fill the stomachs of Famine, with bread and water. Give Poverty shelter and proper
education, and cure the illness of Disease with adequate medication and vaccines. I remember saying to
myself, “yes this is my calling”, but then it hit me, what about the cries of War and Peace? Does their
weeping go on deaf ears, or on the ears of a visionary? I left Nigeria in mid August, and prepared to go
back to The States; yet again my Pandora’s Box was open and the key to close it was lost.</p>

<p>These bewildering questions drove me to the brink. I began to ponder, did Gandhi live his
purpose? Did Buddha or even Shakespeare live out and fulfill the questions of his dreams. For days I
closed myself within the confines of my room, secluded from the world, with the exception of those five
other men who have served as my stalkers. For me, these questions became my shadow; they followed me
everywhere. However, I did not fret because this shadow only meant somewhere there was light, and I
knew this light was my answer. It was only after agonizing hours in my room that I stumbled upon
famous speeches; that I previously printed out. The words of John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King and
Winston Churchill all complied in this one folder. I opened it up and began to unravel the meanings
behind their words, one by one the answers to War, Peace, Famine, Disease and Poverty became
comprehensible and my purpose became apparent. Politics. What better way to answer their calls, through
this avenue I could induct new laws and end hunger and poverty, and fund new research to combat
sicknesses. At last the calls of War and Peace can be heard, but not at the same time. It would be my political inquisition to contemplate what is right for the people; the decision between pointing the gun andcalling a truce by turning the cheek</p>

<p>Sixteen years of living an endless question and at last I had found the key to answer it. My true
purpose was politics; however, in order for me to satisfy the appetites of the five men, I need to
accomplish this goal. I must inject politics into my blood; embrace it as the very air I breathe. It’s
amazing how the world works, man lives one question only to fulfill another. Through politics I shall
enter the field of International Law and help people on a broad scale. So far attaining this goal has led me
to a vast road, each exit with the name of a different university. Only time will tell which one I pick. I
laughed and asked myself, “Poverty, Famine, Disease, War and Peace… which do you think will best
lead my way?”</p>