<p>I’d love to read your extended essay! Sounds quite interesting. And who doesn’t love Paranoid Android? :)</p>
<p>trf1021, I’d like to read your extended essay too. I bet it’s better than mine.</p>
<p>Also, I’m boring enough to follow the two paragraph rule.</p>
<p>Ok, so now that the application deadline has passed, I guess I can post mine (Note: still do NOT steal this. It is the best essay I’ve ever written for college) :
Why The University of Chicago?
There is absolutely no way He exists. I have never seen any concrete evidence.
Thats where youre wrong. How do you explain the start of time? The start of earth?
Someone had to have created everything, and that someone is God Himself.
But if God were to exist, that would violate the notions of Darwinism, evolution, science
and overall logical thinking. Plus, what reason could you provide for
Any list of reasons for wanting to attend The University of Chicago would undoubtedly
include its great prestige, 80+ Nobel Laureates, fantastic gothic style architecture, and reputation
for having the most intellectually curious students.
While these are all valid reasons, and all of them certainly hold true for me, there is one
more thing I have noticed about The University of Chicago that impressed me the most and
sealed my desire to attend.
Upon a recent campus visit and tour departing from Ida Noyes Hall, I couldnt help but
overhear parts of a conversation between two people; one ardent Christian, the other, an atheist.
Both of them were extremely strong in their views. I am not completely sure if they were current
students or if they were prospective students like I was, but one thing can be certain: the two did
not agree on any aspect of religion.
For the entire roughly 10 minutes my tour group happened to be at the Joseph Regenstein
Library, these two people hotly contested the issue, each bringing sharper and more convincing
arguments for every response. Normally, such bitterly opposing views, especially on a topic as
controversial and sensitive as religion, would surely cause great resentment or hostility.
Yet, I noticed one very interesting feature present on both the debaters: a comfortable,
relaxed smile on each of their faces. Though their perspectives contrasted greatly, they each
enjoyed listening to what the other person had to say. Nothing presented was dismissed as
stupid or idiotic. The two students respected each others ideas.
It is often stated that bricks and mortar do not make up an institution; the people do. Well,
The University of Chicago is a prime example, and in my view lives up to its reputation as
having the most inquisitive students.
Having no strong view on religion of my own-I want to learn more, much more,
knowledge before I make my conclusions- I cannot say that I will go through the same or even a
similar discussion. I can say, however, that I was impressed by the students high level of
maturity and intellect.
Being a student at Chicago would come with many perks. I would have access to
delicious one dollar milkshakes, gargoyles protecting me at nearly every angle, proximity to
Lake Michigan, the Great Scavenger Hunt, and a romantic botanic garden. Oh, and lets not
forget about the Hogwarts-like house system. Of course, nothing can be perfect, not even The U
of C. For example, parking on campus is terrible and nearly impossible to find, and the winters
are notoriously brutal. However, in spite of a few minor flaws, if these students, ones who are
accepting and mindful of others, are the kinds of students Chicago attracts, then this is the
university I aspire to attend. This is the university where I belong.
I want to, one day, make a significant contribution to humanity. But nothing comes easily,
and in the words of the great Chinese philosopher Confucius, the journey of a thousand miles
begins with a single step. The difficulty of my goals is comparable to a thousand mile journey, and to travel such a distance, I need to take my first step. That first step begins at The University
of Chicago.</p>
<p>Do not take this!!! Not now, not ever, not for any college anywhere.
Let me know what you think! :)</p>
<p>
</p>
<p>I hit the breaking point about two months into fourth grade. That time, when [name redacted] told me I was annoying, instead of shrinking into myself, I decided I would show him what annoying really was.</p>
<p>Annoying was singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” off-key for forty-five minutes during every single bus ride; it was chasing boys around the track; it was threatening to hug people; it was making up strange and incomprehensible nicknames for them. The change was sudden and total: I’d once been shy and reserved, never speaking out, never wanting to call attention to myself, but now I made myself as much of a nuisance as possible. I talked loudly and constantly. I bothered people who didn’t want anything to do with me. I played the Fool. I sought to be hated, and my classmates did.</p>
<p>I’d come a long way from the girl who’d once wished to be popular, without understanding what popular really meant. Now I reveled in being anything but. I was the “annoying girl,” the menace, the anti-popular. I didn’t have to worry about whether people would like me, because I knew they didn’t. I was freed from the weight of having to seek approval from others. In short, I’d grown up.</p>
<p>I kept up the act for almost five years–through the last year of middle school–and then, one day, I woke up to find I’d stopped. Without my noticing, the mask had fallen, revealing the normal kid within, the one who griped about PE and cracked terrible jokes and actually carried on conversations with people. Yet I still tried to justify my stint as the “annoying girl.” It had been an immature thing to do, but it had made me a more mature person, less self-conscious and braver. It was funny, wasn’t it, that my sudden whim had caused this transformation?</p>
<p>I didn’t stop to wonder why I had carried on with a mere whim for five years.</p>
<p>“You do realize nobody likes you, right?” I was told in tenth grade, and I maintained that I didn’t care what he thought, but I did. I became quieter; I started second-guessing myself; I held my tongue more. For the first time in years, I was worrying about looking stupid. About what other people would think of me.</p>
<p>I hadn’t really changed at all: the “annoying girl” had been nothing more than a crutch, an excuse. Back then, I could tell myself that if someone hated me, they didn’t really know who I was; I didn’t have to consider that they might not like the real me, either. I was afraid of being rejected, so I hid behind my act and forced people to reject that instead.</p>
<p>Things are different now. The crutches are gone; I stand on my own two feet. I no longer have the luxury of not having to think about what I say or do. But I don’t let other people’s opinions dictate my actions, either. I try to be my best self, every hour of every day; I don’t want to be accepted, or rejected, for anything less.</p>
<p>I am a writer, always striving to be understood; I am a thinker, careful to consider all sides of a question. I am the girl with the weird, often confusing, sense of humor–a carryover from the old days. I don’t have that many friends, am never going to be the center of attention, but I’ll stick by you as long as you stick by me. I am a person, and I no longer want to trade that away to be a flat, two-dimensional mask.</p>
<p>This time, I really have grown up.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>It’s not the most witty or clever essay, but then I’m not that witty or clever. What I am is painfully earnest. XD</p>
<p>Accepted EA. Only posting this one because Columbia has one of my others (what challenges have you outgrown) and Harvard the main CommonApp one. (OMG.) I will post those after April 1 ><.</p>
<p>Basic message contained in the following (if you want a summary): OMG I like learning lots of things. I am maybe a little bit scattered in my interests and do not have a clear point…but I like Chicago and Chicago should like me. I feel, often, like I come across as a ditz when I talk about why I like learning. Which is odd. Anyway, to the point:</p>
<p>The University of Chicago has a reputation for attracting students who have strange ideas of fun: writing poetry, for instance, like me, or programming their Linux machines. I recently spent a school-less afternoon home alone watching Firefly and reading a translation of Beowulf. It was wonderful. Chicago presents itself in its literature, and is backed up by the fact that it supports two literary magazines and a poetry club, as that sort of school: intellectual, hopelessly nerdy, and having a blast being both. I can imagine no better way to spend four years than living, learning, and participating in those sorts of activities with a group of like-minded individuals, diverse in every other way.
Chicagos course catalog is full of interesting courses. They do not, happily, suggest an undue predominance of professional courses over such lovely offerings as the Bohemian novel. Chicagos Comparative Literature and Classics departments, the two programs in which I might major, are both intriguing. I enjoy doing humanities research such as is required for their BA projects. Classics is appealing because its offerings are well balanced between the two types of courses I would most like to take: the serious and intellectually stimulating, such as the history of ancient philosophy, to the ones that I would mostly find fun, like the courses in art or myth. It also gives one a good deal of choice about what advanced Latin courses to take: thus I can take Augustines Confessions or the most wonderful Ovids Metamorphoses rather than Virgils Aeneid again. The Comparative Literature major offers many courses from parts of the world which I would be interested in studying, like eastern Europe. Many courses are offered in translation, to which I look forward. Even though I hope to learn a third language, that way I can take courses in literature written in more languages. I am excited that Chicago excels in areas in which I do not want to major, too, from its two (two!) courses in Islamic art and architecture, to its world-renowned economics department, to its major in Egyptology. When visiting the King Tutankhamun exhibit in San Francisco this summer, I almost forgot to look at some of the artifacts, so gleeful was I at being able to sound out or read many of the hieroglyphs upon the artifacts, thanks to the University of Chicago course on Egyptology that I took this summer. Similarly, I would be excited to take advantage of the many opportunities for learning, and for my eccentric definition of fun, that Chicago offers.</p>
<p>Post-It Note Picasso by Sophia Liu</p>
<pre><code>Mrs. Donnard, my ever -temperate sixth grade math teacher, called it “a sure symptom of Attention Deficit Disorder”. I called it “Post-It Note Picasso.”
The rules are simple. Each player receives one blank Post-It note. With a timer set (usually ten minutes are allotted), all players pick up a standard Bic pen with blue or black ink and prepare to take on the most dimensionally-challenging task of their lives: fitting an original masterpeice onto a canvas of less than ten square inches. Participants can fill their empty canvas with whatever they please – from a modern rendition of Botticelli’s “La Prima Vera” to a vision of a world dominated by cyborg arachnids, inclusive, the choice is theirs. It is the fact that they can fashion anything that excites participants; it is this very same fact that beleaguers them, for no one wants to settle for a lesser idea. No Cambini wants to be upstaged by the next Mozart.
Some players (we called them “Berts”, after the world-weary puppet from Sesame Street) choose to plan out every angle of the design prior to laying down any ink. Lightly etching lines and shadowy forms on the back of their Post-It note, their eyes nervously wander about others’ designs as the clock ticks away. Their pupils dilate. In the corner of their eyes, they can already see their competitor hashing out a palm-sized pi
</code></pre>
<p>@haavain,
I really enjoyed your essay. Did you apply RD?</p>
<p>Thank you! Nah, I was an EA admit. :)</p>
<p>Hey haavain, I also loved your essay. It’s very insightful and genuine and brave. I’m glad I ran across it.</p>
<p>Essay Option 4: The Game One (D: Please don’t do anything bad with it!)</p>
<p>We opened a box and discovered a realm of unfolding adventure. Armed only with our resilient spirits and $1500 each to spend on what we wished, we embarked upon a turbulent journey through underground business deals and property loans gone horribly awry. We bought railroads; we forged friendships; we betrayed each other into bankruptcy; we went to jail and emerged 3 turns later. We were administrative business personnel, property sharks, the best of friends, and the worst of enemies. We played Monopoly every Friday night, and we did it damn well.</p>
<p>For the uninitiated, Monopoly involves a microcosm of real world capitalism: the abuse of purchasing power and coercive “diplomacy” among the skill set of the elite. And as my friends and I accumulated demoralizing stress in our high school years, juggling malevolent teachers and malicious girlfriends, our sanctuary came in the form of these weekly attempts at economic supremacy. For us, Monopoly was another world where our alter egos could act as they wished, uninhibited by the plethoric troubles of yesterday or the troubling apprehensions of tomorrow. </p>
<p>On Friday nights we could banter, argue, and laugh too loudly; we played with good spirits, good food, and the best of company. But most importantly, we gave ourselves the oft-forgotten ability to dream outside of the constraints of reality. Perhaps our childhood dreams took their second wind in the basement of Austin’s house on those nights, where we once again believed that we could do whatever we wanted to do in life with witty decisions and a lucky roll of the proverbial dice. We harkened back to times of old on the dusty Monopoly board, times when the utter simplicity of life gave us the ability to immerse ourselves in pure, unadulterated aspiration. And as we crossed our fingers to land on Boardwalk, so too in our minds did we remember, ever so quietly, that once upon a time we crossed our fingers to become astronauts and kings.</p>
<p>In the end, for five 16-year old boys the world was so inexplicably difficult to understand that it took a game to make sense of it all. We learned that the decisions we made affected others when Kevin sold Park Place to Austin—and Austin, in turn, bankrupted us all without remorse. We learned that it took friendship to brave the most trying of times when we were forced to form alliances against Carl’s tyrannical blue monopoly. And we learned that nothing was impossible, when Tim somehow rose from having no property to owning half the board. </p>
<p>With the onset of our senior year, we stopped playing Monopoly. Academia reestablished its vicegrip on our lives, and with the hovering threat of college applications we realized that there was simply no time for us to continue our cherished pastime. But as the games we played fade into the distance, our memories will forever remain poignant. Monopoly was a fictional world of escape, but it was not made to last. For the things we saw and the lessons we learned had business elsewhere: in the real world.</p>
<p>As I embark now, not into the world of underground business and property loans but rather into the world of college and adulthood, forever will I fondly recall those nights. And forever will I keep in mind my most valuable lesson learned: that I have dreams that refuse to be forgotten, and that I don’t need a box to unfold a universe of adventure.</p>
<p>Nice seabear! I enjoyed reading your essay.</p>
<p>@HonorsCentaur</p>
<p>nice essay! i really like it.</p>
<p>Haavain: Your essay reminds me of myself. But everyone puts on a facade of some sort, so I guess I’m cool with that. Perhaps my only qualm is that people (after putting on their mask) often forget the “night” side of everything, and believe that what they see is what everyone else sees.</p>
<p>Meh. arrogance. lol.</p>
<p>thank you vitaminc22!</p>
<p>Just got in, so I guess I’ll post my essay. I did the first prompt (“How did you get caught?”)</p>
<pre><code> Trying to break out of ones routine is difficult. For many members of my generation, checking Facebook as soon as one gets on his/her computer is just as routine as older men and women who can be found taking a drag on a cigarette at exactly the same time each and every day. While the examples I just gave are negative, they need not be, as the act that one routinely does could be anything from making a ham and cheese sandwich every day at 2 in the afternoon to sitting down and watching Jeopardy every weeknight at 7. Regardless of whether the actions that make up our routines are positive, negative, or just downright necessary (like waking up at a specific time), the fact that each of us has a routine is the important part. Routines are about familiarity, stability, and, probably most importantly, comfort. Applying to college has made me appreciate how comforting it is to have certainty in knowing what one will be doing and where one will be exactly a year from now. And while I cant project where Ill end up going to school, I can expect myself to be sitting on my couch watching Jeopardy tomorrow night at 7. What about the next night at 7? Watching Jeopardy on my couch. Repeat ad infinitum. Thus, while long-term certainty has become elusive, I can still fall back on the short-term stability of my day-to-day routine.
Though there are always disruptions to schedules (example: when Im out while Jeopardy is on), having those key activities to ones routine really are extremely important to stay functioning. One cant be thinking all the time about every single thing, not consciously anyway. So the brain has coping mechanisms, and one of those mechanisms is habit formation and the development of routines. In this sense, being human makes us caught. We are caught in routines of our own design. Usually, however, being caught like this is liberating for our minds. It lets us focus on other things while we move through the more monotonous aspects of our day. It gives us something to fall back on and be certain about during stressful periods. Sometimes routines can be damaging, but thats why its extremely important to establish a routine for oneself consisting of positive and constructive, rather than negative and destructive, actions. Overall, routines generally serve an important purpose and ultimately help us to live life the way we do.
Now, that being said, disruption is welcome after a long period of time running on the same routine. Going through the college application process, however, has forced me to think about what Im going to do when I graduate six months from now. How will I choose to live my life from there? What routine do want to start following once the one Im currently in runs its course? And while I dont have certainty about any of those things, the answers to those questions are much more exciting than my boring, high school routine that Ive been stuck in for 3 and a half years and counting. For all these years Ive been caught in this school routine, but it is only now that I find it a hindrance and thus it is only in these past few months that Ive become cognizant of the limitations it imposes on me. Prior to this, the routine Ive been caught in has provided long-term stability. That reality, however, is ending, as life really isnt stable in the long-term. As I go off to college, I take the first step in freeing myself from many of the routines Ive created (or that have been created for me) over the course of my life and I will finally be free to create my own. Its nerve-wracking, terrifying, and thrilling at the same time, and I cant wait for it to happen. Yet as hard as it is to wait, the time is giving me the important opportunity to reflect on all the routines Ive been caught in up until now, the good and bad about all of them, and maybe the chance to experiment a little within the boundaries of my current routine. I use experiment lightly, because after all, there isnt very much I can change about the limitations imposed upon me. I can; however, change how I react to them, so I guess time will tell if that makes any difference as to how I feel about the hindrances my current life imposes on me.
</code></pre>
<p>HOW DID YOU GET CAUGHT? (or not caught, if the case may be)</p>
<pre><code>The cashier at the Dirt Cowboy Caf
</code></pre>
<p>
</p>
<p>[blush] Thanks :></p>
<p>
</p>
<p>This is true. We never show all of ourselves to the world–we can’t, really. I know I’ve always been a very private person; I prefer not to tell you what I’m thinking. And I’m okay with that. So what does it mean to “be yourself,” anyway?</p>
<p>But I said “best self.” It was disingenuous of me to behave like a brat (and believe me, I was a brat) and then, when people were nasty to me, turn around and say, “well, you don’t really know me.” Whose fault was that, really? My classmates saw what I showed them. We are judged by our actions, as it should be. I assume that’s what you were trying to say with the second part of your statement?</p>
<p>You guys are all awesome. I’m amazed by how creative all these essays are, and I wish you were all coming to Chicago with me, ha :S</p>
<p>Wow. I just re-read my essays (post 460) and no wonder I didn’t even get waitlisted. Any prospective applicants, don’t do what I did. God dammit. </p>
<p>Also, seabear, nice essay man.</p>
<p>I absolutely love your essay, SeaBear. It was ridiculously amazing! When I did my apps, I thought I had to use the biggest words, the fanciest language, the best imagery. But that’s not important at all. Essays have to have a soul. Yours went beyond that. It had a genuine, emotional sense of nostalgia, something we can all relate to. You should feel proud of yourself for having written this!</p>
<p>Even though I am on the wait list, I guess I’ll post mine:</p>
<p>“How did you get caught?”</p>
<p>Time dissolves into the ethereal calm of the North. The mountain stands silhouetted against the dark blue sky, attuned with the silence of the dusk. For six months I have been here alone, staring at this mountain, my vision piercing its shadows and gazing intently into the sun beyond. Several miles above me the first beams of light cross the edges of the mountain, parting the air to impact a horizon that is out of my reach. But here, now, there are simply the year-long shadows.
I am a thousand miles from civilization, at the base of the single mountain that stands out from the patch of others. I journeyed here from Houston in hope of reclusion, but the wilderness has prevented my return. I miss my parents, my brothers, my friends. The world lurks behind the veil of freedom while I sit here in stalemate at the mercy of nature. Reclusion has become a continuous stare into the eyes of the Eternal.
There is no escape from this reality. Predators are the norm; survival is the ultimate goal. The present does not scare me because I know I am not alone: the stars guide me in my journey toward an answer. They console me, telling me of the time when time was at its infancy, and when everything was one. They were alone then, and now they are not. They humble me, telling me of stories to which mine cannot compare. They tell me: We are the past. You are the future.
This is why I know my time will come; one day, my escape will arrive. That day, as I begin my ascent into the skies, and above that silhouetted mountain, I will bathe in the warmth of the sun once more. For now, however, I linger at the helm of my journey. I can only wait. My moment will arrive.</p>
<p>^wow that is a great essay worriedjunior</p>