<p>Getting caught is like singing in the shower, it is always more comfortable when you do it on your own. So I decided to take a deep breath and catch myself every once in a while; and perhaps, these were the only moments I ever spent looking back at those cracked and crooked fragments in my life, and searching for the left-over, minute pieces of puzzle. The epiphanies of the little corners of my mind go: </p>
<p> I caught myself in the irony of childhood. A winter morning, once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away:
When I grow up I want to be
The president!
A princess!
A doctor, just like daddy!
A vet!
A pop star. A firefighter. A lawyer. A teacher In the midst of the familiar answers being thrown around, someone shouted out:
A grown-up!
Then I was booted out of the classroom for being the worlds youngest smarty-pants and remained one until this very day. No, not really but in my naïve mind, being an grown-up was straight-out fascinating youd get to work and earn money, while people respect you, your opinions and all that jazz (yeah right.) So I wasted half of my childhood away trying to be an adult just to realize Id spend the adulthood wishing to be a child all over again. I have always wanted to go and tell a travel agent in the most casual and carefree manner as possible: Id like a one-way ticket to childhood, please. And I really do. </p>
<p> I caught myself being shallow this one time Actually, I have never been a really deep guy Although, I did, I did indeed try to be complicated, and thoughtful, and philosophical (and becoming all of that was a sign of turning into either a genius or a lunatic). It was marvelous at first being the mysterious one and often understood by nobody. But I would never be a genius so at one point, I had become so convoluted and chaotic that not even I could comprehend myself. To put an end to that messy phase, I developed a habit of enjoying life with the Why?-Because-I-said-so attitude, where cliché and pompous justifications for every course of action taken are generally stamped upon. Id be delighted with my juvenile sense of humor. Id purchase poorly-advertised music records and dust away the neglect and solitude to be overwhelmed by their mismatched brilliance. Id set my heart on a school solely for its intriguing essay questions; for shirking challenges and avoiding risks arent what joy is about! Id well, you get my points; and now we all know that being simple, even simplistic or shallow is the only way to go. Humph. Or not. </p>
<p> I caught myself being feminine when the thought of learning how to cook first came to my mind (since the very idea of masculinity apparently rules out culinary.) In the head of every child, his mother will always be the best cook in the world; likewise, I know mine is. To us, the family meal is downright irreplaceable (and plays a role so significant that to put it in perspective, would be like the Big Birds in Seasame Street, or doughnuts in public security ); so watching mom delight, engage and even immerse herself in the art of cookery is simply inspiring. A little bit of pepper. Salt and sugar. Stop. More fire. No, less than that. LESS THAN THAT, YOU IDIOT. Great, now youve made yourself dog food. Why are you making us dog food? Well, being instructed by her isnt similarly motivating. But one day Id travel the world and learn all types of cuisines just to come home to cook for mom and make her proud (and impress others as well but thats just the byproduct.) </p>
<p> I caught myself being frivolous, upon wanting to spend just the last 30 seconds again. To get excited and jump out of bed. To say hi, followed by a smile. To randomly wave at the crowd and deliberately confuse people. To cross my fingers. To turn down a generous offer. To call myself stupid. To laugh aloud at an inside joke. To cheer eagerly when my team lost. To go window-shopping when I am flat-out broke. To snuggle up to somebody I thought I knew (I wish I knew.) To be embarrassed. To make a promise. To break a promise. To look back and slow down. To sprawl across the couch. To believe I can fly. To dance under the moonlight. To hit the road just to miss home And thats that, a fleeting moment might hold a thousand possibilities. </p>
<p> I caught myself falling in love. And out of love… Remember the times we used to think we could change the entire world? Well, some did and made it to the TIMEs covers, took a home a few Nobel prizes, and apparently are sunbathing on their private islands; whereas the rest gave up and moved on. Granted that we really did change something perchance, it couldve been merely ourselves. And we did At least, I know I did. Way too often. Once too many times. We would switch and flick our minds like channels in an insomniac television session at 2 a.m. people, interests, appearances, beliefs, habits, judgments, personalities, people, interests, appearances, beliefs, habits, judgments, personalities, people etc All over the place. Rumor has it that rumor has it this rumor has it that we change our judgments of others in the blink of an eye. Why? I do not know. And whats the reason behind replacing a freshly-purchased, hardly-used 15-megapixels camera phone with its forthcoming twice-as-expensive, one-more-megapixel descendant? Why do we starve ourselves just to please the eyes of the herd of people whose daily reading makes up of fashion magazines, Facebook statuses and Twitter updates? Utterly inexplicable. </p>
<p>The craze of humanitys caprice left me thinking that after all there must be some connections between us and the world. I arrived to try to change the world. Now all I hope for is that the world will not change me. (Someone famous then again I could have totally made this up to gain more credibility). But that is it. We are doomed. The quote perfectly describes our dire straits: the Sultan of Swings! we are only little puppets from smaller theaters such as fashion and pet peeves to bigger ones like religious beliefs and political doctrines! </p>
<p>Yet, on a brighter note and the other end of the dependency spectrum, as we change, the world changes. I cannot and will not just sit around all day long and whine about how much everything on earth today sucks compared to yesterday, or how I have lost all of my faith in humanity solely because of a horrendous crime committed by an individual. But I will try to be the change I want to see in the world (once again, I suspect someone famous said this line.) </p>
<p> I caught myself awake and inspired </p>
<hr>
<p> And we got caught,
The way we ought to.
Caught out clouding over an unfounded optimism,
Wishing for a silver lining.
Caught at an emotion roadblock,
Speeding away through the black and white.
Caught on the wrong side of the line,
Wholeheartedly complying.
Caught up in this hasty life,
Circular and labyrinthine,
Toddling scattering treading staggering
Away into oblivion </p>
<p> (About a Pane of Glass rawwwr 2009) </p>
<p>I am a Hegelian synthesis of fantasy and reality; a character strung between abstraction and concretion. I am Zarathustra, I am Antoine Roquentin, and I am Candide; but, all in all, I am myself. I’ve been to Zarathustra’s cave, Antoine Roquentin’s diary, and Candide’s garden, but I remain nowhere. I am perfect, yet at the same time flawed. I am everything that I want to be, yet I have all my goals before me. </p>
<p>I am a real character. I live my life, think my thoughts, and dream my dreams. I want to be an economist, but I have much to learn. I want to be Kant, but my mind is too faint. I want to be Pel</p>
<p>Wow, these essays are so long! Everybody seems to have written full-length essays for “Why Chicago.” I stuck to the recommended two paragraphs because I felt, since it wasn’t the main essay, they aren’t looking for amazing answers to a mini-essay. </p>
<p>Although I didn’t read every word of the above essays, I think some of the “Why Chicago” essays take a little too long to get to their point. A little exposition is nice, but a full-fledged narrative seems a bit much. I’m not trying to criticize anyone, that’s just what I think.</p>
<p>Oh well, my “Why Chicago” sucks because I didn’t write it in a creative way. But at least it’s not really long.</p>
<p>^ Maybe having a longer essay shows their passion. Maybe that will outweigh the sighs of the addcoms when they see the essay is 700 words. Who really knows?</p>
<p>Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. And now that I think about it, 700 words isn’t so bad. But 1,000+ really is pushing it, IMO. Although some people have gotten in with close to 2,000! I guess you’re right, you never know.</p>
<p>I just had my interview! It was pretty cool… an hour and a half! And I thought I’d post my essays… </p>
<p>I would post my Why Chicago, but I wrote it late at night, was very tired, wanted to submit the app, and I recently went over it. Somewhere in my delusionally tired mind, comparing the school to a gargoyle sounded like a good idea. It was disasterous once I re-read it after submitting when I had gotten sleep. I should have taken a straight-forward approach. :/</p>
<hr>
<p>QUESTION #5: Describe an experience that has intellectually stimulated you and developed your passion for knowledge into what it is today.</p>
<p>The Honors Anatomy classroom was a dreary place, the floor plastered a lifeless gray and the walls constructed of deep-viridian bricks with gaudy, dungeoness cement lazily slopped in between. It was cold and the indelible stench of formaldehyde hung about. The room was not known for the other cheery subjects it housed, such as Biology and Health, but was vilified by twenty-some dead cats it held in a large, clankering fridge in the back corner. I sat in the ancient, creaking desk, wondering why I had signed up for the class.
However, dissecting those cats transformed the eerie classroom into an intellectually stimulating environment. I was first inspired by what they could bring when I came across Dr. Richard Selzers The Knife, from Mortal Lessons. To him, the scalpel was a gateway to another world. A layer of skin envelopes our body as the surface of a dark ocean, and the scalpel is a fish that darts across it, creating a fine wake of red that exposes the underlying strata. From there, he entered into a primitive place, ready to explore and discover the unknown. He knew that surgery was an unnatural art, for it trespassed into the human body, but he ached for the discovery. I was captivated by his poetic descriptions. After reading The Knife, I sought to mimic his expedition across the human body when I dissected my cat.
My fellow scholars and I were terrified when we first met the cats. As I gazed upon mine, I felt morally unwell, as though I had robbed him of his life, and any mistake on my part would be an unforgiveable sin. I grasped the cold steel scalpel, trembling. I was overwhelmed by the raw power it had transferred to me. However, my thoughts rushed back to Selzer and I grew excited for the academic discovery that lay ahead awaiting me. I cautiously pierced the skin, and as the flesh parted, I was delighted to find the world Selzer had so vividly described. Each stroke I made exhumed another secret realm and imparted me with another hidden truth. The skin exposed the yellow globules of fat, and then fascia, the muscles, the organs, the bones
My intellect was kindled and I developed a thirst only knowledge could quench. I have further delved into the wonders of the body, continuing my expedition and research on how and why we function the way we do. In the spirit of academic inquiry, I have grown closer to my peers, and as I soak up every bit of knowledge taught, I can only wish the class was longer. My intellect has grown tremendously. Other wonders, from the workings of the brain to the philosophy of death (on which I even took an online course), inundated me. I sought to understand and experiment on the world around me. I remain inspired: I have begun to read the books and scientific journals of many scientists, from Dr. Ramachandran to Dr. Restak; I can spend hours online, poring over web pages on fascinating topics; I yearn to conduct my own research, manipulating my many houseplants into rooting or blooming. I have become like Dr. Selzer, confidently grasping the scalpel, ready to explore the contours, crevices, and caves of the world before me, out of sheer and sincere curiosity of what next is to be uncovered.</p>
<hr>
<p>My Favorite Thing
I considered discussing some of my favorite books, like The Count of Monte Cristo, my favorite music, which ranges from compositions like La Damnation de Faust to the latest Say Anything track, or even my favorite paintings, from classics like Liberty Leading the People to a Roy Lichtenstein. However, over the years, Ive developed a great affinity for houseplants. My collection of houseplants is one of the most unique things about me. Having grown many of them from sprouts, they are special to me. I was first fascinated with the concept of growing one as I enjoyed the discover behind it: the ranging needs of various plants, the geographical origins, the varying evolutionary adaptations. However, Ive more than just collected them; each one represents something about who I am.
My first plant was a Dieffenbachia Maculata. Though poisonous and demanding of precise conditions, its beautiful and loveable. I am also very precise and orderly. Sometimes I will even clean to relieve stress! However, like it, I am approachable and sociable, being able to talk about anything with anyone for hours.
I remember cutting off two tiny leaves from my mothers Epipremnum Aureum. At first, it struggled to root and grow, but over the years, its grown into a thick vine, with wide, heart-shaped leaves. I see myself in the indefinite love it showers, despite its initial hardships.
I recently got a Monstera Deliciosa. Though it is small, it has amazing potential. In the rainforest, they grow from the dark floors, attach themselves to trees and quickly overtake them. They transcend their humble origins to touch the sky. The plant and I carry the same potential and drive to succeed.
I received a Chlorophytum Comosum, better known as a Spider Plant, as a daughter plant from the one in my school library when my love for knowledge had only begun to sprout. Over the years, Ive watched it grow hand-in-hand with my intellect.
Lastly, I have a colorful Dracaena Marginata. I bought it for a demonstration in the science fair, and Ive kept it since. It reminds me of all the passions and interests Ive developed over my course in high school and who I have blossomed into.
I see who I am reflected in the many leaves theyve grown. Watching a tiny petiole emerge from a stalk and blossom into a full leaf, the effort put into fertilizing, watering, and adjusting light levels manifests itself. They are thoroughly enjoyable, as I can even have fun uncovering why they are as they are. I get to analyze why they can only reach a certain height, or in which ways will roots best grow, or what photoperiods would induce blooming. I get a sense of stress-free academic discovery out of them. My wide array of houseplants is definitely one of my favorite things!</p>
<hr>
<p>After re-reading then right now, I don’t like them all that much. I think they’re a bit too informal and I usually have a much better writing style. I guess I was just really tired over winter break. I think I would have taken them on a bit of a different path if I was to go back.</p>
<p>As a forewarning, these are lengthy. I tried to avoid making them purely intellectual essays that had no relation to my actual personality. This is the application I put the most effort into, and I hope that they provide a great deal of insight into my character and why I think I am such a good fit for Chicago.</p>
<p>If you have the patience to read through these, I would appreciate any critique or opinions. Thanks.</p>
<p>Why Chicago</p>
<p>It has been a long-standing joke in my family that I have always been a hot-blooded person. I hear stories about how I used to run through the house dripping with sweat, sleeping without covers, and always refusing to wear my coat. I am 18 now, but some things have not changed. Every morning, with a look of bewilderment, my mom still asks me, Are you leaving without your coat? as I walk into the freezing cold wearing only a t-shirt and slacks. Chicagos climate is not unsettling to me, quite the opposite. I am looking forward to watching snow gather on treetops majestically, and maybe even making a snowman.</p>
<p>Most of my peers do not understand my concept of fun. They dont see how reading classic novels or discussing philosophy is so entertaining. Likewise, I dont see how going out and partying every weekend is so entertaining to them. In my opinion, ones values and beliefs shape their outlook on life and determine how they live. Being able to explain why I believe what I do and argue for what I stand for is the most important thing to me. My academic interest spans a number of areas because each subject is just one piece of a large puzzle. Each individual piece of the puzzle plays a pivotal role in formulating arguments that have substance. The core curriculum at the University of Chicago is perfect for furthering my education in all of the fundamental areas. The parts of the core curriculum that are of particular interest to me are the Mind social sciences sequence and the Evolution of the Natural World sequence. </p>
<p>When I first began my research on colleges, the University of Chicago kept coming up as the place where the fun goes to die. I was skeptical because my definition of fun seems to differ from the norm, so I decided to read anecdotes by current students about life at the University of Chicago to understand what they considered fun. One student explained how he stayed up with a fellow classmate all night debating Nozicks libertarianism against Rawls theory of justice. Another student told of her exciting experience attending a 15 hour jazz concert at the Rockefeller Chapel. The people who say that the fun dies at the University of Chicago are just like my peers: as far as they are concerned, the learning stops once they leave the classroom. It exhilarates me to find a campus with a student body that is seeking more than just a high GPA. </p>
<p>At the end of my undergraduate experience, I am hopeful that I will obtain more than a diploma and a bunch of scattered information. I want to come out of college a new person, a person with strong critical reasoning, a person with a newfound understanding of the world, a person who will excel on any path he follows. After researching the core curriculum at the University of Chicago, there is no doubt in my mind that it will enable me to meet my goal of pursuing an education in philosophy more than any other college.</p>
<p>Optional Essay</p>
<p>Instead of citing a list of my favorite musicians, I decided to create a poem out of some of my favorite songs. Each line of the poem is a single lyric taken out of a song.</p>
<p>*I Wrote This Letter To Tell You How I Feel<a href=“U2%20%C2%96%20Stranger%20in%20a%20Strange%20Land”>/i</a></p>
<p>Well, Im a lucky man (The Verve Lucky Man)
It aint hard to tell I excel then prevail (Nas It Aint Hard to Tell)
It isnt hard to feel me glowing (Led Zeppelin The Rain Song)
Thats just part of the deal (Massive Attack Protection)</p>
<p>Come as you are (Nirvana Come as You Are)
Walk straight with a clear resolution (Soilwork Nerve)
You can try the best you can (Radiohead Optimistic)
Take hold of the flame (Queensryche Take Hold of the Flame)</p>
<p>Listen to me and enlighten me (Journey Anytime)
Nobody wants to be themselves (Gnarls Barkley Who Cares)
Hold your colors against the wall (Pendulum Hold Your Colour)
Warm my mind near your gentle stove (The Doors Soul Kitchen)</p>
<p>I feel like the world is my home (Massive Attack Sly)
Off the beaten path I reign (Metallica Wherever I May Roam)
I do the best I can not to worry about things (Air The Vagabond)
Im alive, so alive now (Stone Temple Pilots Wicked Garden)</p>
<p>When you wake up its a new mornin (Gerry Rafferty Baker Street)
Dont dream about yesterday (Van Halen Right Now)
Now whos to say if I was right or wrong (Tupac Until the End of Time)
I would never change a thing even if I could (Foo Fighters Resolve)</p>
<p>In my opinion, the art a person ascribes to tells much about the character of that person. Art serves as a glimpse into the mind of the person who created it. I have dabbled with playing the guitar and while I am no musician, music has a great impact on my life. Music not only colors my mood, but imparts philosophical lessons upon me. Likewise, while I am no author, literature is very important to me. The music I listen to and the books I read define who I am as a person.</p>
<p>All genres of music appeal to me as there is something to be found in each one. The lyrics, Hold your colors against the wall/When they take everything away, by Pendulum are particularly insightful, despite it being a club track. To me, they mean that your colors are your values and beliefs, and when everything else is taken from you, your colors are all that remain; to hold them against the wall means to show them to the world. I have many favorite artists, but my only definitive favorite is U2. The piano driven October never fails to send a chill up my spine. Besides sounding beautiful acoustically, many of their songs are also lessons in history. Ice/Your only rivers run cold/Your eyes as black as coal from U2s The Unforgettable Fire is easy to misconstrue as a relationship that has lost passion, when in actuality the lyrics are referring to the bombing of Hiroshima. Who would guess that the emotionally charged lyrics, And we can break through/ Though torn in two/ We can be one in New Years Day refer to the Polish Solidarity Movement? These are but a few examples of how I find meaning below the surface in art.</p>
<p>The philosophy hidden within the text of books is what influences me most. By analyzing the text, I am able to flesh out the voice of the author and truly understand the values they are advocating. Ayn Rands Atlas Shrugged was the first true piece of philosophy that I read, laying the foundation for my intense interest in philosophy. With its two page paragraphs and ten page monologues on topics such as money being the root of all evil, Atlas Shrugged is the most challenging book I have conquered. The existential principles espoused in this book changed my concept of morality and led to my fascination with the philosophy of existentialism. After reading Atlas Shrugged, I discovered Viktor Frankls Mans Search for Meaning, a book that soon found a special place in my heart. Viktors humbling firsthand accounts of life in a Nazi concentration camp give a glimpse into the nature of man, presenting the existentialist will to meaning as what gives value to our lives.</p>
<p>On a related note, I would also like to tell a little about the philosophical ideas that mean the most to me. Existentialism is at the top of this list because it has redefined my outlook on life. Through existentialism I have realized that my life has no intrinsic meaning; I must give meaning to my life through my actions. This has been a powerful motivator in my day to day life and has made me realize the value of this life. Another philosophy that has been particularly influential in my life is stoicism. By adopting Marcus Aurelius philosophy I have learned that the pain is not due to the thing itself but to your own estimate of it; and this you have the power to revoke at any moment. One of the many situations where this was a boon was when my mothers mammogram found a mass in her left breast and she had to go back for more extensive tests to rule out cancer. Instead of getting emotional and worried, my background in stoicism helped me to realize that worrying would do nothing to help the situation and I instead held a positive attitude. While her tests came back negative for cancer, stoic philosophy helped me keep my emotions in check so I could comfort my family. As you can see, the philosophical lessons that I glean from music and literature make up the foundation of my character.</p>
<p>As Tom Petty said in Learning to Fly, Im learning to fly, but I aint got wings. Im hoping University of Chicago will be my wings.</p>
<p>Extended Essay</p>
<p>The late-eighteenth-century popular philosopher and cultural critic George Lichtenberg wrote, “Just as we outgrow a pair of trousers, we outgrow acquaintances, libraries, principles, etc. . . . at times before they’re worn out and at times - and this is worst of all - before we have new ones.” Write an essay about something you have outgrown, perhaps before you had a replacement - a friend, a political philosophy, a favorite author, or anything that has had an influence on you. What, if anything, has taken its place?</p>
<p>What is the meaning of life?</p>
<p>Ah, the million dollar question everyone is asking. Some say the meaning of life is to get to Heaven, others claim that life has no meaning at all. Who is right and who is wrong? For many years Ive attempted to answer this question for myself, making it a centerpiece in my life. My answer to this question has changed several times over my life, and with each new answer Ive discovered a new outlook on living.</p>
<p>I originally settled on an answer to this question when I began my 6th grade year at a Catholic school. My parents had always told me there was a God, but I had never been exposed to religion before; here I went to Mass twice every week. Over time the religion grew on me and I soon found myself a devout Catholic. While I was never confirmed, I adhered to the tenets of the faith and believed strongly in God. The meaning of life for me was to live close to God and to live my life according to His word. God was an undeniable presence in my life and I prayed to Him every night. </p>
<p>When I graduated from middle school, I enrolled in a public high school. Even though going to church was unrealistic, what with me being the only religious person in my family, I still talked to God every night and listened to His guidance before I went to sleep. I believed that everything in life was meticulously crafted by God and that everything happened because of His will. Essentially, I saw everything in life as a miracle, from the wind blowing a particular leaf at a particular moment to the sun rising every day.</p>
<p>My belief system started to change around the second quarter of my junior year. This was around the time I started reading Atlas Shrugged. It was getting more and more difficult for me to believe in the Catholic faith. I still believed in God but I could not rationalize some of the things the church advocated, particularly the concept of Hell. It did not make any sense to me why an all-good creator would send his own creation to eternal demise. My belief system changed from a strong Catholic theism to a kind of pseudo-Deism. I believed in God as the creator, much as Deism, but I also felt that His presence was undeniably obvious throughout all of life. I saw patterns throughout my life that, to me, were unexplainable. Whenever I would pray for something, it would seemingly happen. In retrospect, it was always little things, like hoping that girl I liked would smile at me in the hall. It was possible under deism, but theism seemed much more plausible. </p>
<p>Towards the end of my junior year, and especially in the summer after it, my beliefs began to gravitate towards the impersonal God advocated by deism. By the end of my summer vacation, I was no longer praying or giving thanks to God each night. I still believed in God, but I didnt believe he answered prayers, and I no longer thought it was him that I talked to every night. He was the creator of the universe, the starting point, nothing more.</p>
<p>I started getting deep into existential philosophy, trying to find some meaning in a seemingly meaningless world. Every day I questioned my belief in any God at all. My classmates in AP European History helped spur this development. Several days each week Miles and Conner would get in an argument about God with Tyler at my table. Miles and Conner were atheists, Tyler was a fundamentalist Christian, and the observers, me and Ryan, were on the fence between deism and atheism. My beliefs no longer made sense to me. The world didnt make sense with a creator, but then it also didnt make sense without one. I could not rationalize my existence without some origin, some singularity that could not be explained by reason alone. I looked at the suffering in the world around me and wondered how any benevolent, omnipotent creator could let it come to this. And if I accepted that everything must have a cause, what caused the creator?</p>
<p>One night, while I was talking to my mom about this paradox, I had an epiphanous moment. I went and jotted down what had just come to mind before it slipped away, and suddenly it all made sense. Here is an excerpt from that brainstorm:</p>
<pre><code>
</p>
<p>All of a sudden, I could accept atheism. I could make sense of the universe without the need for a creator. While my belief in a creator is no more, nothing has taken its place yet to answer the question of the origin of existence. And Im okay with that; I am no longer going to jump to conclusions. Only time can tell if I will ever know the true answer to this question.</p>
<p>Even though nothing has filled the role God played in my argument about the existence of the universe, the spot left behind by my former theist belief has been filled by secular humanism. It is not that I do not believe in God, rather I am skeptical of anything that is not backed by objective evidence. I do not hold anything to be true until it is proven true. My code of ethics is founded on the use of critical reason and what I personally hold to be right or wrong. </p>
<p>So what is my answer to the meaning of life? I think Occams razor is adept at answering this question. The meaning of my life is to live.</p>
<p>It wasn’t the religion part of it, per se, but rather the grotesque reasoning he used to reach his conclusions and then his corruption of Occam’s Razor…just ew. Your adcom might like it, but I’m no fan.</p>
<p>I wrote it rather hastily, so maybe it is flawed and I thank you for your criticism, but I’m not really seeing the “grotesque” reasoning; it seemed pretty sound to me. </p>
<p>Also, how did I corrupt Occam’s Razor? As far as I know, the razor essentially states “the simplest answer is the correct answer.” If the question is, “What is the meaning of life?” then the simplest answer would seem to be “To live.” What would your simplest answer be to this question, if I am incorrect?</p>
<p>Oh god, Crazyday.
I did something VERY similar for the optional essay</p>
<p>I wrote an essay using Britney Spears’ lyrics.</p>
<p>And yes, I did have a thought that it could be plagiarism, but I wrote a blurb after it explaining my essay, and I pretty much though “It’s an optional essay. Might as well go for it”</p>
<p>I’m not entirely comfortable with posting my essays but I’ll post my topics.</p>
<p>Why Chicago was a metaphor to Alice in Wonderland.</p>
<p>Extended Essay was about how to not get caught watching ‘Jersey Shore’</p>
<p>I don’t really feel like digging my essays out of my computer, but</p>
<p>Why Uchicago- pretty much like everyone elses, except i went on a half-a-page rhetorical rant about how my interests compared with their nobel prize winners. kind of interesting i guess. </p>
<p>Optional: Basically my emotional interpretation of paranoid android by radiohead. I thought it was pretty unique. I loved writing this one. </p>
<p>Extended (How did you get caught): I went a little crazy on this one. I wrote a letter as myself from the future that basically detailed apocalyptic events that had ensued because I had not been admitted. It was really science-fiction-y and soooo me and I really hope its not too crazy cause I love it.</p>