Post Your essay

Colleges and Universities A-Z University of Chicago ✅
401

<p>I was accepted EA, so it would be particularly stupid for someone to steal this essay. That being said, I don’t think anyone would want to steal this essay.</p>

<p>Topic 5: Free Topic</p>

<p>My posed question: Describe your average school morning. Is there a joy in the mundane, in the routine life?</p>

<pre><code> Imagine waking up to a soft persistent buzzing that rouses you at precisely 6:24 a.m. every morning. You decide to remain immobile, hoping that your inactivity will confuse the alarm into believing that it is actually a weekend, and that it has made a grave mistake. The moment you wake up, time speeds up, and you realize the time is now 6:35 a.m. and that when you blinked, several minutes passed. You stagger into the bathroom, thrust your arm blindly to the left, and manage to turn on the bathroom light. The initial illumination is so bright you shield yourself with your arms, mimicking a vampire who has just been exposed to the sun. You undress, half asleep, and step into the shower. You accidentally only twist the knob that reads “cold”, and a rush of freezing water splashes onto your back. You curse loudly, but muffle your shout with your hands, and remember that luckier people are still sleeping. You play with the shower knobs for several moments, attempting to obtain the yin-yang balance between hot and cold. After settling for a temperature that can only be described as “slightly kinda warmish”, you mix the shampoo and conditioner together to save time. After soaping, washing, and drying, you emerge from the shower slightly revitalized. You pick up your toothbrush and scrub furiously for what you say is two minutes but what is really nothing more than one minute fifteen seconds, and prepare to get dressed.

You stare at the array of blazers, collared shirts, and ties, and choose a combination that seems easiest to wear, paying no attention to color coordination. After getting dressed, you head to the table for breakfast. The taste of instant coffee is your supreme pleasure of the day, and you proceed to quickly chug the caffeine infused substance, while simultaneously reading the headlines of the New York Times. You glance at the digital clock that rests above the stove and realize, to your dismay, that the time is 7:28 a.m., and you have approximately seven minutes until you have to depart. You thank your mother for the wonder that is instant coffee and ensure that your backpack has the necessary materials for the upcoming day of school. At this point, you glance around the room, and notice the unmade bed. You stare longingly as it cajoles your conscience into letting you lie down for the remaining five minutes. The hustle and bustle of the four-person household interrupts your daydream and you continue checking your bag. Your final move, before you leave, is to grab your cell phone, wallet, and iPod, three items you will most likely take to the grave. As you proceed to exit the apartment, you ruffle your sister’s hair and mumble the words “good” and “bye”.

Now you are at the elevator. You gently hit the plastic button with the image of a downward facing arrow and wait. As the majestic metal doors open, you admire the recent renovations of the elevator that are actually several years old. You hit the “L” button, gently place both earphones into your ears, and click the “Morning Playlist” option on your iPod. Your day has officially begun.
</code></pre>

402

<p>Just reading these essays makes me want to cry. How the hell do you people write so well?</p>

403

<p>Your essay is so engaging and genuine. Refreshing. :)</p>

404

<p>abcdefg1234, I loved your essay! Not only that, but the prompt itself was quite exciting.</p>

405

<p>honorscentaur this cracked me up:</p>

<p>"
People often say you are what you eat. Well if that is the case, then I am sushi, Mexican tacos, sweet and sour chicken, curry rice, blueberries, and fast food among others. Next year
when I travel to France, I would like to try being escargot. "</p>

406

<p>OMG</p>

<p>Thank you all for making me realize I need to go re-write my essays now. </p>

<p>Seriously. How are all of you writing such amazing essays?</p>

407

<p>haha glad you liked it quinone22</p>

408

<p>This thread helped me see what Chicago is looking for, so come March, I’ll def. be posting my essays :D</p>

409

<p>I want to attend a university like none other. I want to be a part of the four-day, massive Scav Hunt with a team name like “Dinosaurmageddon.” I want to be intense about my academics but have a roommate who can ease the stress by serenading me with Karl Marx specific versions of Neutral Milk Hotel songs. I want friends who beat box, sculpt glass, know ridiculous amounts of rap lyrics, blast Britney Spears while studying, build blanket forts regularly, and really like the song “Party in the USA.” I want to find my own quirky little niche in the University of Chicago and learn more about myself than I ever have before. I want to be one of the lucky ones who gets to do all of the above and more.</p>

410

<p>What the heck…I’m not sending this one in since I’m working on an essay that’s exponentially greater than this one, but I’ll post it here anyways (never even edited this one lol). This is in response to the human personality prompt:</p>

<p>The concept of a human personality appears, at first, to be a universal concept, or, a concept applicable to all rational agents. When the concept is pondered upon, though, it appears that it requires that a definition of it contains properties that are, at least partially, possessed by all humans (if it was not, the concept would not be ‘universal’). But, upon even deeper thought, the question as to why must we do so inevitably arises. Surely, there are things that separate human beings from other animals, but those could hardly make up any sort of ‘human personality.’ In our case, we already have human beings together (they have already been defined as human beings), but we need a way of making laws between them and if human personality constitutes their similarities, then what are we to make of laws? If laws can only be derived and justified from our similarities, then what are we to make of our differences? How could we justify law on things common to all humans if, for most of our aspects, we are so vastly different and unique? To treat humanity as having one single set of traits that define it and using these general traits as a guideline for what may be done to the individuals that it is composed of would be a negation of the uniqueness of every individual. What would the worth of one individual be if the only aspects considered significant were those that she shared in common with every other individual? Of course, one could obviously say that in the political arena, only commonalities are of any relevance and hence the human personality should be representative of our commonalities and nothing more. However, if we were to agree to this and were to press very hard on the distinction between the common traits of humanity and the unique traits of each individual, there would still remain an open question of whether or not any coherent conception of a person remains. Human personality is not something distinct to the political arena. If it were, it would be called political personality, but since it clearly is not, we must construe a definition of human personality that remains true regardless of what ‘arena’ of society one is in.</p>

<p>Human personality, far from being some common trait of humanity, is something left to be created; something that is meant to be lived. It is the equivalent of an artist sitting in front of a blank canvas; an idea left in the vastness of the mind to be discovered. It emerges itself from the oblivion of nothingness only to find itself stuck on the eternal timeline of the universe. No thing can predict what it is or what it will be, just as no artist knows what her painting will look like when she’s done and no thinker knows what thoughts of her will emerge, but it happens and what happens, simply happens. It has no set definition, but rather it is strung together in an elaborate amalgamation of activities done by a person; it is a form of one’s life. A person does not possess any sort of human personality, but rather lives it, and just as an artist only knows what a painting will look like once the painting is done, so one’s whole human personality is not known until that person’s life is done. However, the life that one lives is set by the contingencies of the world one lives in, and although some attempt to say that a true definition of justice is one that is constructed when all contingencies of the world are abstracted away, quite the opposite is true. Justice is no abstract concept that is formulated in the mind of a philosopher; it is a form of life, a concept that only takes meaning when it is needed in concretion and is only given meaning when humanity is taken from humanity. It is not defined by certain structured principles, but is something that is created as a group of people live their individual lives in a collective. There is no one thing that can determine what uplifts human personality and what degrades it. No one person can declare a law just or unjust; only specific people can declare a law unjust or just for themselves. </p>

<p>Lacking any absolute definition of justice and having declared humanity personality as essentially living one’s life, one might think that I am espousing an overtly atomistic conception of an individual in a society of individualistic anarchy (paradox? I think not.). However, that is mistaken. Justice still has a definition and that definition requires no specific conception of the individual or any specific type of government (or lack thereof). Whatever laws allows the greatest potential for human flourishing, for human discovery, and for human innovation are just laws. These notions of flourishing, discovery, and innovation, though, must not be misconstrued in any absolute fashion. There is no ideal example of any of these because there is no generic human that they can be applied to. Each human is a distinct being, each with her own traits and skills, and each with her own way of exemplifying these ideal actions. There is no </p>

411

<p>Okay so I took a bit of a risk with this one, it’s my own question so I just thought of posting it here and see what you guys think of it.</p>

<p>In the spirit of adventurous inquiry, pose a question of your own.</p>

<p>What makes me so great?</p>

<p>The first and most obvious of the traits composing the exceptional individual that is me is my limitless modesty. But modesty such as mine is only attained by those of many talents. Basically I am what all colleges have been seeking since the invention of admissions, and yes,I will share with you what it is that makes me so great.
I’ve strived to be a high achiever and I’ve succeeded: by some standards I am the most ticklish person on earth and I have a great reputation as a consumer of saccharine goods. No college campus is complete without me since it lacks my unbelievable pen tricks, my ability to solve the Rubik’s cube in under three minutes and my lightning-fast typing. Also, I am an origami master. Yes, a master, in the true sense of the word. I once constructed a swan out of 501 paper triangles and after that a 3D star out of six paper tetrahedrons. I watched American pie and I can throw an American football without being American, not to mention that I can eat Swiss cheese without being Swiss. I have yet to have a ball intercepted in the NFL – way better than Jay Cutler this season. I tie my shoelaces with a 100% success rate and I never go to bed without brushing my teeth.
By now you are most likely astounded by my credentials, however, the best is yet to come. I solve adventure games without reading the walkthrough and I voluntarily ruin 1000-pieces puzzles after finishing them only because I enjoy solving them again. Out of the people living in my house, I am the only one owning the biggest collections of French comic books, subway cards and cinema tickets. To sum up, I am, as some put it without understanding that the word doesn’t even begin to describe me, outstanding.
However, as all illustrious personalities, I must confess with great grief that I have some minor flaws. I have been caught, not only once but to my shame many times, studying with great interest, up to the point of great fervor when the subject was to my liking. Also, some friends see me as a passionate reader. I cannot help it - my interest range is so wide that I went through a myriad of books.
Now that I’ve started I must be completely honest. I’ve been classified as cheerful, funny (or silly, I’m not yet sure which) and I was even called the heart of parties because apparently my dancing skills are something quite extraordinaire. I’m not sure if I should still go on, but since I’m opening up to you now, I confess: people love me wherever I go.
I finished all I had to say but now I feel confused. Have I answered the question or not? Which of these, my qualities or my flaws, make me so great? Am I to be judged by any of them? Or am I to be judged by - oh dare I say it - mundane things such as scores? Whichever it may be, my only hope is that the verdict of the judgment will answer the question I first posed with this: being admitted to the University of Chicago.
Cheesy, am I not?</p>

412

<p>^ That essay (I didn’t read all of it because no time…) is pretty cool! But to me, it is very reminiscent of the Hugh Gallager essay (remember, the one with the last line “But I have not yet gone to college”). Perhaps you never did read that essay, but it’s pretty famous in these circles, and while your essays are not exactly the same, they sound similar. However, it still sounds good.</p>

413

<p>I had never heard of that Hugh Gallager essay but I googled it now and I understand what you mean. However, the idea isn’t really the same since I didn’t just write a list of fun but fictional things about me. What I tried to do is give them a taste of my personality outside of anything you would put on a resume. All of the things in my essay are actually true.</p>

<p>Do you think that because it may sound similar to Hugh Gallager’s essay it might not be considered original?</p>

414

<p>@Adriana - When I first read the prompt you I groaned and rolled my eyes. But after reading it, I really, really enjoyed it! I laughed out loud at some of the lines. Well done.</p>

415

<p>Thanks a lot. I’m glad that you liked it, hopefully so will admissions.</p>

416

<p>nvm nvm nvm nvm</p>

417

<p>The first topic: How did you get caught?</p>

<pre><code> “Stir faster, beta. Look you’re going to burn it! How do you expect to make a good wife if you can’t even cook a simple korma?” My mother dug the wooden handle of the ladle into my back, drawing my attention back to my semi-burnt meat. I stifled a groan and vigorously mixed, splattering the stove top with oil droplets. She turned back to her soap opera and partially peeled potatoes, but not before she caught me rolling my eyes to her references to a “good wife”. “You kids today, you guys have no idea. When I was your age I was married, cooking, cleaning- managing a complete household. You kids today have no respect.” I found myself tuning her diatribe out. After hearing it 90 plus times it was almost automatic.
My mother is a 50-something, Pakistani- Muslim woman with values befitting a woman of her cultural background. Her values are at the core of everything I do, yet every step of the way, it seems, I begin to struggle with the growing disparity between her ideals and my own search for an identity. I identify myself as just another American kid with a fading heritage, yet my turmeric stained hands beg to differ. Much as I try to disassociate myself with the nickname other American-Pakistani kids give each other, I can’t. I am an ABCD. An American Born Confused Desi (South Asian). I am caught in a limbo, neither this nor that, caught between a struggle between cultures: East meets West.
My internal conflict stems from the discrepancies between Western and Eastern values or rather what is valued and what is not. Independence is lauded in America, and the 18th birthday is long awaited as the apex of the pursuit for independence. The ideals of independence are fostered by parents so that their child grows wings and is one day able to fly on his own. While independence isn’t a repudiated concept, the Desi mentality towards it is different. My parents tend to be protective, bordering on overprotective, and sometimes overbearing. They believe it is their duty to protect me, for as long as they can, from any evil in the world. More so than a duty, it is viewed as love to cocoon one’s child. Turning 18 doesn’t make me an adult in their eyes; I am still their baby, one whose decisions are not her own, but an extension of her parents’. While I long to spread my wings and soar, I struggle with an equally strong desire to nestle into my safe haven, to forgo independence for security.

A plate of raw white potatoes jarred me out of my reverie. “ Put these in,” she told me brusquely. My apparent lack of notice had been observed. “ We came to America for you, you know. We want you to have opportunities we didn’t.” Her face softened at this. “You think I just say these things, nahi? I’m saying it for your fayda, benefit. You think all this cooking is bakhvaas, all my stupid talk, but meri jaan this is who you are.” She emphasized her point with a particularly fierce chop. “You can’t change who you are. ”
I am an American born Pakistani struggling to find balance between these two identities. Where does my ‘desi’ self end and my American self begin? There is a blurred line, constantly shifting. I put chaat masala on my Ramen and wear a shalwar with my Beatles night shirt. I try to uphold my parent’s values while maintaining my own. I can’t get rid of this conflict- the struggling forces of two cultures is a permanent part of me. I don’t expect this confusion within me to recede. I endeavor to accept it and allow it to make me, paradoxically, a more defined person. In this world I may be a strange misfit. Yet that is exactly how I fit in.
I sprinkled the cilantro over the korma. It was perfect. My mother looked at me “You are perfect.”
</code></pre>

<p>Why Chicago?
Sophomore year, when we began learning about the Renaissance in World History AP, I found myself fascinated by the sheer amount of culture and knowledge cultivated. The idea of a Renaissance man was intriguing; a person who mastered the arts, literature, science- would he not hold the keys to the truth of life? Though I am not conceited enough to believe that I could be a polymath, I agree with Aristotle’s view that one should be well versed in a variety of fields. Having exhausted the opportunities at high school, I now look towards college to fulfill my need for answers.
While I want to pursue med school after college, I am also incredibly interested in history. University of Chicago’s HIPS minor- History, Philosophy and Social Studies of Medicine allows me to intertwine my my love of history with my passion for science. The Core program at University of Chicago appeals to me because I look to knowledge as the the answer to the universal question “ What is the meaning of life?” It is by investigating the Humanities, Social Sciences and Physical science that I can come closer to answering my own philosophical questions.
College, they say, is a place for intellectual growth. I believe University of Chicago’s diverse programs and the Core will allow me to become more open minded and if not a polymath, closer to an intellectually well rounded person.
According to the Office of College Admissions my Hogwarts letter isn’t coming. This is the next best thing. That and deep dish pizza. </p>

<p>I got in EA with these. I didn’t do the optional question.</p>

418

<p>The first topic: How did you get caught?</p>

<pre><code> “Stir faster, beta. Look you’re going to burn it! How do you expect to make a good wife if you can’t even cook a simple korma?” My mother dug the wooden handle of the ladle into my back, drawing my attention back to my semi-burnt meat. I stifled a groan and vigorously mixed, splattering the stove top with oil droplets. She turned back to her soap opera and partially peeled potatoes, but not before she caught me rolling my eyes to her references to a “good wife”. “You kids today, you guys have no idea. When I was your age I was married, cooking, cleaning- managing a complete household. You kids today have no respect.” I found myself tuning her diatribe out. After hearing it 90 plus times it was almost automatic.
My mother is a 50-something, Pakistani- Muslim woman with values befitting a woman of her cultural background. Her values are at the core of everything I do, yet every step of the way, it seems, I begin to struggle with the growing disparity between her ideals and my own search for an identity. I identify myself as just another American kid with a fading heritage, yet my turmeric stained hands beg to differ. Much as I try to disassociate myself with the nickname other American-Pakistani kids give each other, I can’t. I am an ABCD. An American Born Confused Desi (South Asian). I am caught in a limbo, neither this nor that, caught between a struggle between cultures: East meets West.
My internal conflict stems from the discrepancies between Western and Eastern values or rather what is valued and what is not. Independence is lauded in America, and the 18th birthday is long awaited as the apex of the pursuit for independence. The ideals of independence are fostered by parents so that their child grows wings and is one day able to fly on his own. While independence isn’t a repudiated concept, the Desi mentality towards it is different. My parents tend to be protective, bordering on overprotective, and sometimes overbearing. They believe it is their duty to protect me, for as long as they can, from any evil in the world. More so than a duty, it is viewed as love to cocoon one’s child. Turning 18 doesn’t make me an adult in their eyes; I am still their baby, one whose decisions are not her own, but an extension of her parents’. While I long to spread my wings and soar, I struggle with an equally strong desire to nestle into my safe haven, to forgo independence for security.

A plate of raw white potatoes jarred me out of my reverie. “ Put these in,” she told me brusquely. My apparent lack of notice had been observed. “ We came to America for you, you know. We want you to have opportunities we didn’t.” Her face softened at this. “You think I just say these things, nahi? I’m saying it for your fayda, benefit. You think all this cooking is bakhvaas, all my stupid talk, but meri jaan this is who you are.” She emphasized her point with a particularly fierce chop. “You can’t change who you are. ”
I am an American born Pakistani struggling to find balance between these two identities. Where does my ‘desi’ self end and my American self begin? There is a blurred line, constantly shifting. I put chaat masala on my Ramen and wear a shalwar with my Beatles night shirt. I try to uphold my parent’s values while maintaining my own. I can’t get rid of this conflict- the struggling forces of two cultures is a permanent part of me. I don’t expect this confusion within me to recede. I endeavor to accept it and allow it to make me, paradoxically, a more defined person. In this world I may be a strange misfit. Yet that is exactly how I fit in.
I sprinkled the cilantro over the korma. It was perfect. My mother looked at me “You are perfect.”
</code></pre>

<p>Why Chicago?
Sophomore year, when we began learning about the Renaissance in World History AP, I found myself fascinated by the sheer amount of culture and knowledge cultivated. The idea of a Renaissance man was intriguing; a person who mastered the arts, literature, science- would he not hold the keys to the truth of life? Though I am not conceited enough to believe that I could be a polymath, I agree with Aristotle’s view that one should be well versed in a variety of fields. Having exhausted the opportunities at high school, I now look towards college to fulfill my need for answers.
While I want to pursue med school after college, I am also incredibly interested in history. University of Chicago’s HIPS minor- History, Philosophy and Social Studies of Medicine allows me to intertwine my my love of history with my passion for science. The Core program at University of Chicago appeals to me because I look to knowledge as the the answer to the universal question “ What is the meaning of life?” It is by investigating the Humanities, Social Sciences and Physical science that I can come closer to answering my own philosophical questions.
College, they say, is a place for intellectual growth. I believe University of Chicago’s diverse programs and the Core will allow me to become more open minded and if not a polymath, closer to an intellectually well rounded person.
According to the Office of College Admissions my Hogwarts letter isn’t coming. This is the next best thing. That and deep dish pizza. </p>

<p>I got in EA with these. I didn’t do the optional question.</p>

419

<p>wow, msqt, those essays were great. I am indian, so I think it is much more applicable to me. I have seen so many of those traditional ‘son or daughter of immigrants’ essays that I was about to not finish reading yours after the first few lines. But it really was well done. </p>

<p>Congrats!</p>

420

<p>“I am an ABCD. An American Born Confused Desi (South Asian)”</p>

<p>love it!</p>