<p>ah i have to go so i 'll be backon CC to read all of these amazing essays - </p>
<p>but i just read yours ESQUARED.</p>
<p>i most absolutely LOVEEEE your essay.
you used the word ORGASMIC. your "pervertednessecity" most evidently showed itself in the finest way, in the body of your orgasmic essay.
esquared you better choose uchicago over anywhere else, scholarship or not. i want to meet youuuu
-your fellow houstonian ji-sook</p>
<p>Thank you, love tigress.</p>
<p>Yes, Esquared's essay is something else.</p>
<p>Even though I was slightly annoyed by the selfishness theme, the last line was unmistakably brilliant. I'm pretty sure I'll remember that last line for the rest of my life!</p>
<p>Surprisingly, this essay got me in EA:</p>
<p>Need help with your college application essays?
Yes! I practically shouted at the radio. I leapt up from my desk chair, where I had been sitting with a sheet of paper that was blank except for Mind That Does Not Stick written at the top. I darted across the room to my bookcase, on top of which my radio was perched.
Are you having writers block? a mans overly excited voice blared from the radio.
YES! I shrieked, louder than before. As the man on the radio read the phone number, I ran back to my desk, picked up the phone, and punched in the number. I plopped myself onto my unmade bed and leaned my head onto the pillow as I listened to the ringing in the phone. Finally, after what seemed like the twentieth ringYou have reached the college application help hotline, a computerized womans voice said to me. Please say your essay topic after the toneBEEP.
Mind that does not stick, I spoke slowly into the receiver.
You are applying to The University of Chicago. If this is correct, please press one. If this is incorr BEEEP. Thank you for using the college application help hotline. Please hold as your call is transferred. I sighed as a sort of jazzy elevator music began to play.
Someone will be with you shortly. We appreciate your patience. A recorded voice said over the music. I shifted positions so that I was lying on my back, and I closed my eyes.
After holding for about ten minutes, the phone dropped out of my hand and, startled, I opened my eyes. I blinked a few times when I realized that I was no longer in my bedroom. I jolted up from the hard wood floor that I was lying on and looked around. The dark, dusty room was bare except for a large mahogany desk in the middle of the wall across from where I was standing. There was a tiny window that looked odd in comparison to the massive desk below it. I peered over the bare desk to look at the gold name plate on top of it. Ludwig von Mises, I read aloud.
Brooke Ulrich, A deep voice with a thick German accent said from behind me. I twirled around to face the man whose voice called me, and fell back onto the desk, when I saw that he was nearly a foot away from me.<br>
Its Ullery, actually, I said as he gave me his hand and helped me off the desk.
Vell of course eet eez, he smirked at me as I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I was sure that this was a dream. Ve musnt Vaste time, Meez Ulrich. Vat eez your topic?
Mind that does not stick, I stammered, as I attempted to discreetly move along the desk in order to not be in such close proximity to this odd, white-haired man. He gave a deep bellowing chuckle, realizing what I was trying to do.
A mind zat does not steeck. Vell, zat is clearly referring to inconsistency.
How do you mean? I cocked my head to the right.
Vell, for instance, some people believe zat zee government should control economic affairs but not civil affairs vile others believe zat zee government should control civil affairs but stay out of zee economy. You see, zose people cannot make up zeir minds. Mein Gott! Their minds do not steeck! Again, he let out a great uproarious laugh, this time throwing his head back.
Oh really?
Of course! I, on zee other hand, believe in no government control. I am consistent. My mind can steeck!
That makes sense I suppose, but what My own voice faded out, as a perky woman spoke loudly into my ear.
Thank you for holding. All operators are currently assisting other customers. Please stay on the line and someone will be with you shortly. I opened my eyes and realized that Mises face had turned into a lamp, and I was now lying in my bed with the phone on the pillow next to me. I couldnt help but smirk at the idea that Mises gave me. I knew that I would have no trouble writing my essay using his advice, but I decided to continue to hold nonetheless. I propped the phone back onto my ear, closed my eyes and as I contemplated Misesphilosophy, I was lulled by the soft music on the phone into a light sleep. Light enough, of course, that the falling of the phone was again enough to wake me. This time, I awoke in a bed of little purple flowers, to a mans distant rambling. Propping myself up to standing, I noticed that a thin gravel path ran through the seemingly infinite field of lilacs that I had been lying in. Moseying up the path toward me was a tall man who appeared to be about the same age as Mises. The man was engaged in a lively rant, gesticulating wildly as he meandered toward me.
So the topological space X satisfies the regularity axiom and the second countability axiom! He exclaimed, Thus, by the Urysohn metrization theorem, X can be imbedded in a metric space and is thus metrizable! Of course, why didnt I see it before? He let out a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back, and, in turn, bumped his large round glasses to the end of his nose. When he got about two feet away from me, he stopped. He stuck his hand out at me and I shook it. Brooke, I presume?
Yes, and umm, who are you? I was embarrassed that I didnt recognize him, since he clearly knew who I was.<br>
Erdös. I am Paul Erdös, he stated proudly. I stared at him blankly for a moment, expecting him to tell me more, but he was silent, so I nodded my head, and ahhed.
Of course! I should have known, I exclaimed.
And what might your topic be, Brooke?
Mind that does not stick.
Ahh, I see. Well heres the most logical interpretation. Someone who is eager to learn in many different fields of study, instead of just focusing on one area will have the most fulfilling, satisfying life. That type of person, Brooke, has a mind that does not stick. I nodded, still wondering who this strange man could be. Take me, for instance. I love combinatorial algebraabsolutely adore it, but I dont stick to that single area of mathematics like most mathematicians do. I also dabble in analysis, number theory, set theory, and right now Im investigating the open world of topology. At the mention of the open world of topology, he again threw his head back in a hearty laugh. I let out a small chuckle, and just as I was about to ask him if he could give me a more general example, not just relating to mathematics
If youd like to make a call, please hang up and try again. If you need help, hang up and then dial your operator. I awoke in my bed with a wide grin on my face, thinking what a great help that hotline had been. I sat up from my bed, turned the phone off, and sleepily stumbled to my desk. I sat down in my chair and, this time, was not nervous at the sight of a blank sheet of paper staring up at me, the words Mind That does not stick written at the top. Mises and Erdös had given me great ideas for my essay, and I would definitely not stick with just one interpretation, but rather keep my mind open to all opinions, as one may not be more correct than other, but, I should come up with my own idea as well. So, I thought, what should I write my paper about?</p>
<p>One of the central concepts discussed in a high school physics classroom is motion. First, objects are presumed to move in a theoretical world where they glide in a straight line at constant speed. Once students master this idea, teachers introduce reality in the form of friction, or the tendency of objects to stick to a surface. In the real world, every surface has friction, even those areas shrouded in mystery and shadow. Zen Master Shoitsus declaration, mind that does not stick, is an attempt to explore the nature and result of the friction of ideas and thoughts inside the most complex piece of machinery to date, the human brain.
When I first began to contemplate the phrase mind that does not stick, I immediately wondered whether having a sticky mind was a good or a bad thing. Would someone with a sticky mind be the type of person who would stay with an idea, ensuring its eventual transformation into a reality? Surely all of the famous leaders of social movements throughout the globe have had sticky minds in that respect. Without Nelson Mandelas firm belief that apartheid was an evil or Upton Sinclairs commitment to the plight of Americas working class, entire groups of people may have been marginalized, prevented for all eternity from contributing to the inexorable march of human society.
On the other hand, what of those who are so stuck within their own visions of reality that they actually cause harm to others? Do those who argued fiercely for the status quo against people like Mandela and Sinclair also have sticky minds? If so, the idea of fierce stubbornness begins to take on a more sinister tone. The refusal to listen to and accept the opinions of others is often cited as a major personality flaw, and it is true that a person who relies solely on his own opinions will find life a lonely, friendless place. People, however, do not generally persist in opinions they believe to be wrong or detrimental to their world. Even the most sinister movements in history were instigated by a few people who believed they were creating a better world.
Where is the line between tenacity and closed-mindedness? It seems to be an extremely subjective determination, based on the obstinately held beliefs of the audience. Perhaps then, the ideal member of society would be someone who has a mind that does not stick. There would be fewer crimes of passion and arguments if everyone could live without internal or external friction. The victim of such an existence, however, would be passion itself. A world without spark or purpose is a world devoid of color and life, a world far worse than one that allows for violent disagreements.
Could it be that those with truly sticky minds are not those who are supremely confident in their ideas and in their paths in life? What of those who get stuck within their own thoughts, those who wander through life knowing that something doesnt quite fit? Certainly the thorough and continual searches for meaning conducted by people who fall into this group result in more truth and satisfaction than those who complacently maintain the positions they have always held. It is the journey, and the detours and sticking points along the way that make a life worth living. Those who plow through the world like a tsunami, stopping for no one, experience only the bare minimum that life has to offer.
Zen Master Shoitsu and I will have to agree to disagree when it comes to the relative merits of a sticky mind versus one without friction. While it is undeniably important to take into account the opinions of others, a person without a firm grounding and at least a little resistance to the pressure to be moved will live a life that lacks something intangible, the internal faith that she can effect change for the greater good. A mind that does not stick not only lacks strength and convictions, but also remains forever content with the world as it is. As a character in the musical Wicked contends, Lifes more painless for the brainless. Why think too hard when its so soothing dancing through life? True, perhaps for the individuals who fit the Zen ideal, life is a safe, comfortable series of events, plodding along like a lazy stream. What of those who depend on the stickiness of a mind, those relegated to invisibility on the margins of polite society? Without friction between objects in space everything would slowly drift apart to all corners of the universe, and without some people with sticky, stubborn minds, the center of the human experience, the bond that connects one person with another, would not hold.</p>
<p>The balance between mind and stomach</p>
<pre><code>Somehow, in order for humans to operate, our minds do have to stick to a few things. Studies have shown that in order for humans to learn and conduct business in the world as we know, we all need to have a schema, or preset block of ideas, to help us comprehend new things and recognize old things. For example, newborn babies quickly establish a schema for the world around them so that they can grasp certain events such as people talking to them or eating. Soon, babies realize who their parents are and whom it is safe to be around. Thus, their minds have stuck to a certain idea in the name of survival. As babies minds stick, so do grown-ups, and even more so. I have always heard that as people age, their views become more and more conservative. I dont believe that the older generations are just older; I believe that they are less receptive to change and are less adaptable, so they resist change, and subsequently the younger generations call them old-fashioned or conservative. Old peoples minds do stick to certain ideas after a while, for a multitude of reasons.
Those Buddhists had it right. The Zen philosophy that Grand Master Shiotsu follows strives for balance in ones life, and enlightenment of the mind. The only way to enlighten oneself is to keep an open mind about everything and to digest new ideas as the world spews them out. I liken that to my eating habits, where I literally inhale anything that I hear is edible. And I trust my brain, its reflexes, and my stomach to spew or emit anything out that is not tasty or digestible. In the same way, my mind should try and suck up everything and ignore or forget the waste products that it also picks up. In that way, filth will not stick to my mind, and because of the large intake of ideas, I will forget many of the older ideas. Taking that into account, I read voraciously and try to digest all the information at the same time. Also, I watch and listen to both sides of the political spectrum, from Al Franken to Rush Limbaugh.
Id like to think that at the moment my mind does not stick to any idea or worldview. As a teenager my mind is still constantly evolving and adapting to new ideas. I am receptive to new ideas and as journalist Ted Gup, in National Public Radios This I Believe series, might put it, Im a Wobbly. Thus, I tend to see many problems and arguments from all perspectives and I can never fully decide on what I support. Some people may call me a flip-flopper, but I like to think that Im keeping an open mind about everything. Consequently, my personal views on any issue are constantly changing. This fickleness creates some unusual circumstances where in a debate I confuse myself and others over what I am supporting. Based on my values, I know I would not be a good lawyer or politician since without any firm beliefs an opponent would rip me apart in any trial or election. But for going to college, I am going to bring an open mind chock full of ideas (whether theyre right or wrong). And I believe that the academic, cultural, and social environment contains enough free-thinkers and strong-minded people that I will encounter challenges at every moment in college.
From what I hear, the University of Chicago fosters these wobblies by the boatload. Many others would call them intellectuals, and other schools scoffs at the idea of people thinking for thinkings sake. I have no iron-clad plans for my future, other than receiving the education in college; and even if I did have a plan, my mind would not be sticky enough to warrant that plan any consideration. Im pretty sure that even if there are any hard-core liberals or conservatives, I would be tolerant enough to at least listen to their views.
But the best way to go about with an unsticky mind would be with a full stomach. I know there is a high correlation between the amount of food in my belly and the number of extreme rants I can take from others.
</code></pre>
<p>and I enjoyedthis one as well...</p>
<pre><code>Ladies are swooning and fainting all around the room. A man sits intently on a bench twiddling his fingers and gyrating his body. One, especially a man, cannot understand how such absurd movements can generate such a ruckus among members of the opposite sex. Yet this man twiddling his fingers is no ordinary man, he is Franz Liszt. He is playing piano in the crowded living room of a womans house. The hostess invited him to her house for entertainment and to show off her wealth and cultural knowledge. Furthermore, Liszt was a very attractive man with high cheekbones and a patrician nose. But being beautiful was not his only talent; Liszt was a talented pianist who mesmerized audiences throughout Europe in the 19th century.
Frankly, being a heterosexual and a pianist, I envy Franz Liszt to the utmost. In my opinion, he was the greatest virtuoso of the Romantic period and also one of the greatest womanizers of his time. I did a research paper on his music and life in my junior year and to my great delight, I discovered that he had a young mistress when he was an old man in his 70s. Certainly I dont advocate Liszts lifestyle, but I find that tidbit of information interesting. What I do admire is his music and his piano playing. At the moment, I am learning Liszts Funérailles, which he wrote in 1849 for three of his revolutionary friends that died in battle. The piece is multifaceted with multiple sections that greatly contrast each other. I have been working hard for the past 4 months trying to interpret the piece and insert my own feelings into it. However, I have not been able to truly build the piece into an expressive masterpiece, which Liszt intended it to be, since it celebrates the heroic deaths of revolutionaries. Maybe its because I havent felt any deep pain or anguish in my life, so I cant truly convey the musicality of Liszts composition. However, I have still grown in my abilities as a pianist. Also, spending those two to three hours a day at the piano has taught me patience and has also given me a certain tenacity that I will carry forward into other areas of my life.
</code></pre>
<p>Why Chicago?</p>
<pre><code>I have lived most of my life in small towns of less than a hundred thousand people. My only experience with living in a big city was when I first came to the US at the age of one and lived in Detroit, Michigan until I was five. I have vague recollections of tramping through the snow in a green snowsuit with my parents during the winter months. Since that time, I have been addicted to the slushy white stuff that Americans call snow, and that Eskimos have six words for. But now that Im living in Florida, I dont see much of the white confection. Even when I used to live in North Carolina, there were years where the piedmont region received some snow. My longing and enjoyment for the blanket of whiteness that coats parts of the world each year is so great that when my house was flooded because of a frozen pipe that had burst from the build-up of water pressure due to the record amount of snow and coldness one year in North Carolina, I still thoroughly enjoyed the weather. On one hand, I was very sad because my family and I had to move out of our house and into a hotel for a few days, but on the other hand, I really had a great time in all of that pure fluffy, white stuff while my school was closed for a week. Thus, my attraction to the University of Chicago increases substantially because of the copious amounts of snow the city receives every year and also for the off-chance that I could get snowed in and have classes cancelled.
However, the aforementioned reason is superficial and could change at any moment due to the global warming that seems to be happening. Accordingly, there is a more lasting and deeper reason for my attraction to the University of Chicago. Of course, that reason would the academic environment that the university offers for its undergraduates. When I went to an information session of five colleges, which included the University of Chicago, the admissions officer for UC emphasized the small liberal arts education I would receive while also having the benefits of a large research university. Im pretty sure many other colleges say the same thing, including the Ivies, but I dont believe that they pay as much attention or provide as many resources for their undergraduates. Since the classes at Chicago are supposedly taught by mostly member of the faculty, I really hope to be taught by the numerous Nobel laureates that work at the university. I have an interest in physics that has been cultivated by what I consider the insubstantial AP physics B course in high school. Thus, one professor that I really look forward to meeting and maybe learning from would be James M. Cronin who won the Nobel Prize in 1980 (sorry for maybe stating the obvious, but I find it really cool that a Nobel Laureate would be teaching pimply-faced undergraduates like me). Even though I have only a vague idea about the particle for which Dr. Cronin won his Nobel Prize. The Quantrell award that he won in 1994 for superb his undergraduate teaching is one that really shows me the quality of the professors at the University of Chicago. I believe that I can extrapolate and say that other members of the faculty are just as committed to teaching. If that is the case, then Chicago is very unique and a major draw for me to go there.
</code></pre>
<p>jeeze, meestasi....why not post your entire life story as well</p>
<p>Hell, they wanted essays, so I give you guys the crap that I wrote and now you ***** at me for giving too much? Oh and you want my life story?</p>
<p>I was born in China, I moved to the US....a few years later at the tender age of 13 I have my first encounter...I got to college...I die...</p>
<p>haha, excellent</p>
<p>To Prompt #1</p>
<p>The Truth is
By the time I could string a thought
I knew I was not original
Or revolutionary.
I knew I could be
Content to know
Even if I wasnt the first to read the classics
I could cull new meaning from Fitzgerald
Teach or give lectures
On these findings.
Yes thats me; I find meanings in the ordinary.
Yet, why cant I find purpose
In the mundane hike through the countryside
My life became when I
Neglected to read the right map?
If the travel-agent man had told me
Of the sweat this trek would incur
I would have told him
Give me the new brochure
The glossy, enticing one that reflects the
Condescending stare of the sun
The blinding light distracting
Us from how we have already become
Statistics
Take a Census.
Youll see:
Money to get by (not enough to be noticed)
Mr. Tax-collector ignores us (who wants a percentage of our mediocrity)
A dad who wears sweatshirts with the sports teams he watches reliving his vicarious youth like every other middle-aged bureaucrat
A mom who fancies herself an original, and is because she is unequivocally herself, including the weird accents she takes when around foreigners like some sort of deranged chameleon
A sister, obligatorily loved, though her combustible existence makes you wish you were in Fiji swimming with alligators or something just to drown out her voice
And me:
The person who identifies with the sort of music
Designed for girls who sat home
Reading or watching
Romantic comedies
You know the kind:
Girl, too pretty for words
Boy, with a sly wink (he could have anyone, but wants her)
Which we all know doesnt happen
Because we never look like her
Or find the right words like him
And even if shes supposed to be an ugly duckling
Somehow
She transforms into a swan
And happily-ever-after we change the channel
To a murder mystery
And root for the bastard to rot in jail
Which only reminds us that we could be murdered too
(But not in the comfort of our almost-nice-enough-to-be-audited homes)</p>
<p>Its ten years later and that girl is still here
Shes still reinventing herself every day
Unearthing her ideals
Inspiring you to think
Twice and consider
Her conundrums.
And one day in ten more years, maybe
Shell be the decision-maker for you
Instead of just observing shes nodding her head
To the heartbeat, the bass line, the score of societys saga
The girl on the wing is dancing center stage
To the soundtrack of the world she became
A part of. </p>
<p>Unnerving as it is
To think life is like a multiple-choice test:
Choose the wrong answer,
Detour into the unknown
After traveling you realize
Your choices left a legacy of their own.</p>
<p>My extremely random "favorite things" essay written the evening of the Jan 1 original deadline. When I realized that the deadline had been extended, I thought about writing an "actual" essay, but was too exhausted so I stuck with this one.</p>
<p>I like to feel grateful. It is a sure pick-me-up. It is also probably why Yom Kippur is my favorite holiday, something people who have not experienced the day have difficulty grasping. Maybe this is selfish, this desire for perspective, to feel thankful. While many dread the Day of Atonement when they have to face the repercussions of their actions, I have come to anticipate this day of song, study, and finally, sustenance. </p>
<p>Yom Kippur empties us of physical nourishment, so in turn we absorb the spiritual. In this altered state, I can finally reflect on the frivolities of my life. I do not shun them, or stand a martyr and declare myself absolved. For a day, I can believe that everything has purpose and that I can have perspective.</p>
<p>Judaism believes in life above all else. This Reform Judaism I practice gives me tremendous leeway. If ancient rabbis were to see me today, they might be angry, or at the least bittersweet to see the path their religion has taken. However, in my heart I know that, as Jews, they would be proud that faith still reigns in my heart.</p>
<p>On Yom Kippur, emptiness fulfills. I am engulfed by the gorgeous music of the Kol Nidrei when the emanations of cello, violin, and piano dance among the chorus comprised of Sunday school teachers and ancient congregants. For tonight, the notes delight a somber occasion and record one of my most treasured days. On this evening, I drink in the melody of this opus and absorb the words of Rabbis and prayers alike. Blissfully alone in a sea of congregants, I feel both part of an incredible group of believers and singularly alone. I take what I choose from the prayer, the reconnection and the intense spiritual jolt. </p>
<p>The next day we also study; after our Rabbis sermons, we split into groups. This year, I sat in a circle with Rabbi Nancy and we discussed guilt; last year I was with Rabbi David, pondering Jewish identity. We follow with a healing service during the mid-afternoon, when we are most hungry from fasting. </p>
<p>I am no virtuous Jew. I practice when I can, believe in God when rationality and logic abate, have never visited Israel, and read Hebrew rudimentarily. However, none of this matterswhat does is that I have a strange affection for what is typically perceived as a somber day.</p>
<p>And I have no idea where I saved my Why Chicago essay to. When I find it...it may make its way here.</p>
<p>Okay:</p>
<p>The University of Chicago is in my blood.</p>
<p>Although the city of Chicago is the birthplace of my maternal grandparents, I was not until recently aware of my connection to the University. When I decided to apply, my grandmother unearthed my late great-grandfathers University of Chicago law school diploma and recalled to me that at least two other relatives, including one of the founders of Second City, had attended Chicago. </p>
<p>The last time I was in Chicago was a few years ago, for yet another Bat Mitzvah. My grandparents escorted me to museums and the requisite tourist attractions. We visited the Jewish ghettos of my grandmothers childhood, the brick buildings headed for restoration. The history of the University is tied to a city interwoven in my mind with my own history.</p>
<p>A traditional liberal arts education: this is what I sign up for in applying to the University of Chicago. I expect a core curriculum, the chance to interact with world-renowned faculty and dive into disparate disciplines, brilliant students, and intellectual tradition and rigor. But this is all a stereotype.</p>
<p>Sophomore year in my Public Policy and Decision Making course, we dissected stereotypes. The verdict: they are not only inevitable but also essential. We examined the subcultures and alternative lifestyles that are functions of stereotypespeople attempt to be different and in the process lose themselves. </p>
<p>I have always felt that I defy stereotypes. I have been a blonde and a redhead; a nerd and an athlete; a Jewish kid and a high school student in college; a loner and a peppy public service club president. Playing each role allowed me to see how others saw me. As a people watcher, I get why people act and react to their surroundings. By rationalizing how people interact with the world, the world seems less scary. From consumer behavior to government policy to social action, I want to learn how it all fits together.</p>
<p>Browsing course catalogs, I felt disconnected from much of the material. I wondered: What does any of this have to do with people? Nearing the end of the alphabet, I clicked on Sociology. I had found the humanity. However stark, I long to understand the motives driving cultural movements. As the birthplace of the discipline, the University is surely kindred; to study Sociology at Chicago would be like studying the history of English Literature at Oxford. </p>
<p>Whether I stay with Sociology or venture into another social science, I want to conduct applied research as an undergraduate. Statistics mesmerize me; in elementary school I carried around the Guinness Book of World Records and the Time Almanac. Engaging teachers interlock me with the world and illustrate how hypothetical classroom learning relates in a tangible sense to the living, breathing world. Chicago professors will help me place the pieces by encouraging me to challenge assumptions and conventional wisdom. </p>
<p>During my four years at Chicago, I will place another piece of the jigsaw with each subject explored. In the city, my Chicago-trained internship advisor shared that I would be able to further my involvement in adoption and social work.</p>
<p>I see myself at Chicago, a place where people work neither for acceptance nor against it. My choices and pursuit of knowledge define meChicago, I hope, is a place high on forbidden fruit.</p>
<p>i submitted my actual music composition (described below) to uofc complete with program notes, the score, and a recording recorded by myself. i bet that composition was probably the main , if not only , thing that got me in. -_-</p>
<ol>
<li><p>Tell us about a few of your favorite books, poems, authors, films, plays, pieces of music, musicians, performers, paintings, artists, magazines, or newspapers. Feel free to touch on one, some, or all of the categories listed or add a category of your own. </p>
<p>When I hear Julius Caesar, I dont think literature. I think music. I am the blacksmith; the piano is my fiery forge. I build chords that sing like the trumpet fanfare of Caesars triumphant procession. I assemble descending scales that portray Flavius and Marullus removing decorations from statues. I construct a low ostinato that captures the uneasy mood of the conspirators as they try to remove Caesar from power. I shape and mold, holding out some notes while shortening others to forebode suspense of Caesars looming death.
When I compose, I find freedom, as there are no rules to follow. The masters allegros and crescendos do not bind me, for I am the master now. I drive the piano along the path my music takes, controlling how quickly we travel and how long we rest. The pianos eighty-eight keys encompass endless possibilities, and I create the right combinations of tones and dynamics, mixing and sorting them into a coherent story. It is amazing to embark on a work that encompasses both the plot and the tones of a play. As I experience this journey of pure creation, I hope that my thirst for this voyage will never be quenched.</p></li>
</ol>
<p>(reading it now makes me realize how choppy it is)</p>
<p>"mind that does not stick." -- Zen Master Shoitsu (1202-80)
Essay Option 3
There are three imponderable questions: Where do we come from?, What is our purpose here?, and Where do we go when we die? To even begin contemplating these questions, man must be in possession of a mind that does not stick. Man has been able to ponder his existence ever since he was able to stop concentrating on the mere necessity of survival. However, to truly contemplate those three questions, man must also free his mind from the restraints that society imposes.
Socrates fancied himself a gadfly, an insect whose purpose was to sting the sluggish horse of Athens into life. He wished to lead the people from the darkness of their ill-founded beliefs; those citizens of Athens, as well as humans today, faced impediments to progress which Socrates wished to eradicate. While Socrates was the gadfly that stung the Athenians into action, Ayn Rand was the one who inspired me to pursue a mind that does not stick.
My first encounter with the late Ayn Rand was through her philosophic novel, Atlas Shrugged. This introduction came at, what was quite possibly, too young an age for me and her blatant philosophy heavily influenced my
impressionable mind. In retrospect, I have learned that to see through anothers perspective is not a healthy, or reasonable, way to view life; so I have begun to reject those tenets that are not in sync with what I truly believe. The experience has taught me about myself and the process in which the brain integrates new ideas. I now realize how dangerous it is to accept the philosophy of another without using my reason to integrate those new ideas. The first step toward achieving a mind that does not stick is to pursue a tabula rasa of my mind, free myself from the strings of societal pressure and rebuild the foundation upon which my mind functions.
Platos Cave is an allegorical representation of the way the mind perceives the truth, and is a metaphor for how the mind can be stuck. Our mind is the cavern of our intellect according to Platos allegory. It shows us reflections of the truth, as that truth is influenced by our personal prejudices, interests, and education. The mind that flows is not
tempered by such prejudice. For the mind to become unstuck, it must be unfettered and free to be enlightened. Only the man who has left the Cave of societys influence can be in possession of the mind that does not stick, for he is free to experience true reality.
Sir Francis Bacon made the distinction that seeking knowledge for its own sake is simply learning, the merit of which must be measured by its usefulness. I have made it a goal of mine to allow any avenue of education to interest me, a resolve which has led me to love all learning even mathematics, which I previously loved to loathe. At this point, I know that I want to learn as much as possible so that I may add something to whatever aspect of society into which I choose to delve.
I know nothing. Socrates was the wisest man in Athens because one thing only [he knew], and that is that [he knew] nothing. I know nothing. Realizing how little I know is not enough however, for I must also endeavor to
achieve that elusive wisdom, a greater understanding of the surrounding world. The mind that flows is free from restraints, and maintaining that flow means never languishing in thoughts of my own knowledge or thoughts of
anothers ignorance. It means never expecting exterior recognition of what I may believe to be my inner quality. I strive for that clarity of thought.
I enjoy the challenge of understanding anothers perspective of our world, for when others bring original thought to a discussion it opens up new opportunities to use my reason to weigh their ideas against my beliefs. An open mind is an obvious key to the mind that does not stick, though it must be paired with reason. For instance, I still have beliefs that happen to coincide with those of Ayn Rand, but the difference is that now I have arrived at those conclusions on my own. Socrates fancied himself the gadfly of Athens; he believed it his mission to sting the
sluggish horse into life. In my mind, the mind that sticks is very similar to that sluggish horse it is stuck because it does not use its inherent faculty of reason. Socrates wanted to lead the people out of the allegorical cave to
enlightenment. I, for one, never want my mind to get stuck seeing shadows of the truth, never my mind shrouded by irrational social conventions.
Socrates is the gadfly of history, stinging the mind into action; he comes in the form of an inspiration to free your mind in my case, Ayn Rand. Using reason is the way to free myself from the obstacles that we, as humans, face in our pursuit of enlightened existence. This reason is a gift, bestowed upon every human being and to discard it is a negation of that which elevates us above animals. We may not have inherent survival instincts, but we do have the capability to think. Attempts to congregate with others who share similar belief systems is an extension of the human need to communicate; however, it is a complete waste of independent thought to allow others to instill their beliefs in your mind. Through my reflections on Ayn Rands influence upon me, I have learned an important lesson: Do not
allow your mind to be influenced by the sheer power of outside pressure. My goal is to free my mind from the restraints of forced beliefs; in preparation for the ultimate goal of pondering these inexplicable questions of our existence:
Where do we come from?
What is our purpose here?
Where do we go when we die?</p>
<p>There are times when logic is readily apparent, when rationale for choices can be explained; this is not one of those times. How can I rationalize the fact that, at this moment, Pirates of the Caribbean is my favorite film? I cant, it simply is. At the same time, my favorite authors stand at William Faulkner, Ayn Rand, Kurt Vonnegut, and Mark
Twain. I understand that these are four authors with completely different styles, to jump from Faulkners narrative style to Ayn Rands stark philosophic style is interesting, but to include in the same list the humorists Vonnegut and Twain is preposterous. I love reading a variety of styles, and try to read whenever I can. I adore musicals, such
works as ranging from 1776 to The Music Man, to Monty Pythons Spamalot. One of my favorite books, or at least the book that I appreciate the most, is Homers Odyssey - Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story / of that man skilled in all ways of contending, it sets such high standards in my mind, standards with which all other poetry has to compete.
I have a great affinity for early American history, specifically the Revolutionary War and the founding of this country, a love which has followed me since middle school. But when I desire to expand my knowledge of current events, I read The Economist. I appreciate the perspective that the British magazine provides, and the fact that its
view of America is free from the quagmire that is American politics. With technology today there is never a quiet minute, and if there is we fill it with our favorite music. I have not escaped this phenomenon, for I fill the quiet moments with my favorite songs. These range from the sounds of Ray Charles and Frank Sinatra, to the Clash, to Bruce Springsteen and Aerosmith, to my favorite musicals. I appreciate the best; the artists who strive to define their genre, to make music with a purpose. Sensory impulses towards the things that we like tend to be irrational, but our favorite things are one thing that do not need to be based in logic.</p>
<p>(<em>my personal favorite</em>)</p>
<p>Why Chicago?</p>
<p>There is an island, as referenced in the film Pirates of the Caribbean, known as the Isla de Muerta. This is a mysterious island where the treasure of Cortes is located, and it is an island that can only be found by those with prior knowledge of its whereabouts. The University of Chicago is my Isla de Muerta; it is an island with mysterious powers that requires something special of its entrants. Only those who have that something will be allowed admission. But the gold is calling to me. I have my compass that does not point north, and my one shot I think this is the opportune moment to use it. I have so many interests in the academic world; I need to find that one concentration that truly calls to me. Of all that treasure how can I choose? I think the challenge that the University will pose to me will help clarify what I would like to study. Once you have found the island, you will always be able to find it again; will always be able to tap into the resources of its inexplicable treasure. It is the treasure that the University of Chicago holds that calls to me. As Captain Jack Sparrow so profoundly pointed out, Not all treasure is silver and gold, mate.</p>
<p>On another lost yet more academically recognized island </p>
<p>The University of Chicago seems to have the spirit of the lost city of Atlantis. It is the last stronghold of the idea that learning holds the highest priority. I want to join the great culture of the University, want to contribute, to make sure it is never corrupted by greed as were the people of Atlantis. The high standards of the University of Chicago call to me, the fact that the university holds such high standards for success is one reason why it is so attractive. I want to be a part of that great culture, to make sure that while I am a part of that community Zeus and the pantheon never have reason to erase it from the earth. It incorporates the seriousness of learning with the playful humor of the gods, that ambivalent nature of the University of Chicago is represented in its imposing Gothic architecture decorated with smiling gargoyles. I see in the University an atmosphere of learning that fits me; it seems touched by the gods, inhabited by the muses.</p>
<p>My essays weren't that good, as I got deferred and then waitlisted, but I will post them anyway.</p>
<p>In the movie Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, Dr. Jones, played by Harrison Ford, obtained his doctorate in Archeology from The University of Chicago. Although I knew that The University of Chicago would never teach me how to run from a tribe of natives, or to use a whip to escape from imminent doom, my interest was sparked in the university, and the subject of history in particular. As a young kid, I was captivated by past events, and Indiana Jones only served to further this interest.</p>
<p>As I grew older, The University of Chicago crossed my path again. While watching Jeopardy, there was an entire category devoted to the University, and the strides that it has made in education. Upon further research, I realized that the school, and the city where it is located, are both witnesses to many past events. Whether it was the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, John D. Rockefeller of Standard Oil fame founding the University of Chicago in 1890, or that the school was the site of the worlds first self-sustaining nuclear reaction in 1942, many past, present, and future events have been, or will be, centered in The Windy City. Because of this, Chicago is a place where I can live according to the universitys motto: Let knowledge grow from more to more, and so be human life enriched (Crescat scientia; vita excolatur).</p>
<p>My other short one:</p>
<p>Rather than take The Road Less Traveled, I must admit that my favorite poet is Robert Frost. Like Generations of Men before me, I have enjoyed this poet laureate because his works have survived their Trial by Existence.</p>
<p>Frosts poems are philosophical, causing the reader to think deeper into a situation. Like all good poetry, Robert Frosts poems transcend the paper they are written on, affecting each person who reads them in a different way. Therefore, the reader is able to apply Frosts writings, and the lessons they teach, to their everyday lives.</p>
<p>The Devotion and impact that Robert Frost made to writing, and also to politics, underscores the importance of Robert Frost as a contributor to literature. In his poetry, Frost highlights the importance of social commentary, and the need to change the world around us. While reading any work by Robert Frost, the reader is able to experience a Revelation, capturing a sample of a true literary genius.</p>
<p>For me, this attempt to change the world can best be achieved by attending The University of Chicago. My love of history, mixed with Frost's ideas of social change, can be further enhanced by the university. Who needs to look any further then The University of Chicago's list of alumni? Attorney Generals, Supreme Court Justices, attempted Supreme Court Justices, Presidents of foreign countries, Nobel prize winning economists, Pulitzer prize winning authors, and "world"-renowned astronomers (perhaps attracted by the University of Chicago's millions and billions of dollars in scientific research), just to name a few. Whether I look to the heavens, or keep my feet planted securely on the ground, "The Winter Eden" that is The University of Chicago is a perfect place to learn and grow (So please do not Bork my application).</p>