Post Your essay

[Colleenie]

<p>There are two types of people in the world. What are they? (Waitlisted)</p>

<p>To Be a Portlander
I come from “Rip City, home of the hipsters and the Blazer cats,” in the words of Portland hip-hop duo Tope & Epp. It’s a metropolitan city with a small-town feel, full of bike riding, beer drinking, sweater wearing, liberal 20-somethings and NBA groupies. Both of my parents, as well as my maternal grandparents, went to Portland public high schools, so it’s a strange week if we don’t run into a former best friend or see someone on TV they knew way back when. Portland is famous for pioneering environmentally friendly legislation and beats out other American cities on lists of highest bike commuters and strip clubs per capita, as well as best places to raise children. On the whole, it’s a bit of an ironic place, but that’s fitting, considering it’s a haven for hipsters. Of course, not everyone here is a young, funky food cart vendor or artisan glass blower, as Fred Armisten’s new sketch comedy show, Portlandia, would have people believe, but there is a definite distinction between people who belong here and people who don’t. </p>

<pre><code>First, the list of things that immediately knock new arrivals out of the “belongs in Portland” category. Those who tend to be straight-forward more than passive-aggressive will probably find themselves nearly friendless within five years. People who regularly wear designer clothing, leave the house in Ugg boots, are Republicans, or don’t like handmade crafts will move to the suburbs after six months. Using umbrellas, hating bicyclists, and not enjoying reading are all grounds for a serious shunning. Those who hate the Blazers, like the Lakers, or are from California might as well just never unpack.

People who were born here can be pseudo-Portlanders for most of the above reasons, but with a few additions. They will be leaving for college, never to return if they grow up hating the rain or don’t love the sight of the Colombia River Gorge and Willamette River Valley when making the descent into the Portland International Airport. Native Portlanders who hate the Blazers because the fans are “biased” get verbal smack-downs by their own families. And those who reach 18 before they’ve shopped on Hawthorne Boulevard or used public transportation shouldn’t be allowed to tell people they’re from here.

Of course, it is possible for both native and migrant Portland dwellers to move out of the “don’t belong” category. For example, someone who moves from California might eventually fit in here if they love rain, biking, food carts, and indie music. And wearing Ugg boots out of the house might be forgiven in someone who enjoys knitting, reading, tea, and hiking in the Gorge. It doesn’t hurt to love the first sight of the bridges after returning from a trip either. It definitely helps to accept the roadway hierarchy of pedestrians, bicyclists, hybrid car drivers, razor scooter riders, minivan-driving mothers, moped riders, motorcyclists, truck drivers, and finally the despicable people who own SUVs. But the one thing that can make anyone a true Portlander is a little more special. Trumping all is an undying love of the city that leads to a conceited pride in one’s good taste. It doesn’t matter whether the Blazers are doing badly, or how many scandals our mayor gets himself into, Portlanders will always back their city with a passive-aggressive pride incomprehensible to those with “East Coast intensity” and the dreaded Californians.

True Portlanders don’t have to be super hip, vintage-shopping, bespectacled Blazers fans. Nor do they have to be ultra-environmentalist, anti-shaving, Blazer-loving vegans. All of these traits add up to the “Bridgetown” stock character: a barista by day, musician by night who plays the synth in a cryptically-named band, sipping Pabst Blue Ribbon during breaks between songs while wearing his grandfather’s old glasses, a striped sweater from the ‘90s, and funky-colored skinny jeans. It’s a fairly accurate stereotype of about an eighth of the population, but there’s more to being a Portlander than being the hippest hipster. People who fail to understand that it doesn’t get hot enough to need air conditioning, complain every time it rains, and don’t appreciate that we’re progressive enough to have an openly gay mayor just shouldn’t live here. People who belong here get it. They understand the quirks of the city, the beauty of the 10 bridges connecting East and West, and the importance of reducing, reusing, and recycling.
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[o0James0o]

<p>An essay from he who is rejected… after being deferred…</p>

<p>Essay Option 3. Salt, governments, beliefs, and celebrity couples are a few examples of things that can be dissolved. You’ve just been granted the power to dissolve anything: physical, metaphorical, abstract, concrete…you name it. What do you dissolve, and what solvent do you use?
Inspired by Greg Gabrellas, A.B. 2009</p>

<p>There is but one thing that needed dissolution – inheritance. There is but one thing that can dissolve inheritance – meritocracy. There is but one way to achieve meritocracy – force. </p>

<p>In all societies, there existed a founder of glory, wealth, and power, and there existed his descendants. Being a founder, it is natural to assume his genius. However, it is unknown rather his descendents have the same genius – heredity concerns family background, not personal abilities. Thus, as glory, wealth, and power are easy to lose, it is human nature to protect it – especially after having experienced the pleasures that came with it. However, when the main focus is on protection, conflicts arise and no progress is made. </p>

<p>In societies with inheritance, there existed very limited room for a common man to achieve the status of a founder for all are blocked by the descendents. Very rarely do vacuums came to be – and when they do, they are usually filled up rapidly with replacement(s) that is of no difference from the first. Thus, though the genius within the common man might be that which could progress society profoundly, he lacked even the chance to use it. In contrast, the descendants focus nothing but the preservation of the now and their personal comfort while parasitizing on society. </p>

<p>Thus, it is in the interest of society to dissolve inheritance. Yet, the dissolution of a legacy creates but another legacy with even greater knowledge on ways of preservation than its predecessor unless a new institute is put in place blocking completely or majority of inheritance – meritocracy. Meritocracy is, therefore, the solvent used to dissolve inheritance.</p>

<p>However, meritocracy cannot come to be unless inheritance is of no longer. Thus, to achieve the initial stage, force is needed and blood would likely be shed as the descendants would try to protect their inheritance. However, when weighting the greater goods, the sacrifices of a period of time are much better than living under inheritance.</p>

[luludatis]

<p>Y=3x²+7x-5</p>

<p>So you want the value of “x.” And? It is obvious, is it not? Set “y” equal to zero, and solve using your Quadrat…</p>

<p>Stop. And what if I do not want “y” to be zero?</p>

<p>Excellent question. Thus, conclusion one: “x” will depend on the value of zero.
If you think about it, this is how many things in life work. The price of meat depends on the amount of buyers that want meat; the number of students that will be in a certain classroom depends on the class offered; my anxiety levels depend on how long it has been since the last time I logged in to Facebook. It is interesting how dependent we are of the rest of the world.</p>

<p>Immigration is an excellent example of dependence. Big, hot topic, at least in the United States. Whether you are pro-immigrant or pro-fence, you cannot ignore that it is impossible to get rid of immigration for many reasons. First, there are too many people to work with. Mexican, Caribbean, Chinese, Guatemalan; there are thousands of each. Any method to try to identify them is bound to fail because of safety concerns. The risk of offending another nation or even our current citizens is too great, also, and saying anything politically incorrect is an enormous crime in the Land of Understanding and Acceptance. </p>

<p>Then there are the ethical considerations, the religious views, the moderate solutions. There are plenty of answers. So if life, or specifically immigration, is an equation, we can state another conclusion: There are plenty of possible values for “x.” Then, “x” depends on how many variables you want to consider.</p>

<p>Let us begin to add some variables. Many of us like to forget that if they try to come here, it is because the United States has thrived at the expense of the well-being of its neighboring nations. For example, many capitalists took advantage of the political turmoil Mexico was living in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. They offered many officials deals that created the culture of corruption that rules most of the country today. Foreign countries used Mexican oil until Lazaro Cardenas stopped them; up to today, some companies still exploit the poor population. We have deprived countries of opportunities and wealth that was rightfully theirs. In a way, it is only fair for them to try to survive. These people have been forced to make many sacrifices.</p>

<p>No, I do not speak just out of moral obligation. I know about stories of sacrifice. In El Paso, Texas, most people know someone who was a mojado, an illegal immigrant. And we are proud of them. When he was in his thirties, my grandfather Pascual crossed the border to work as a brasero. He had to face the hard work and the discrimination. I cannot say I am proud of him breaking the law. However, I am proud of his courage. He was brave enough to leave his home. He was brave enough to work hard his whole life. He learned to love and respect a country that did not welcome him; as soon as he had the opportunity, he made sure to get proper documents, because he was fascinated with this country. He would get excited about a Sam’s Club store in the same way that I get excited when I visit a tianguis in Mexico: like a little kid who sees toys at a store. Today, I have the chance to put together college applications because of his hard work. If he had not done what he did, I would not be here.</p>

<p>The most important part of this issue is that immigration is not a quadratic. These people are not leeches, usable assets, or manual labor. They are humans who love and live, just like anyone else. Their nationality does not change their worth, or the things they deserve. They should receive the same opportunities. I understand that America cannot pay for every one of them. However, we cannot ignore their pleading, either. Regardless of their legal status or social condition, every person deserves a chance to live decently. That is not an American, but a human right. That right is independent from anything else.</p>

<p>Wait. Repeat that. INDEPENDENT. </p>

<p>Don’t they call “x” the independent variable? It makes sense, then. A person’s worth is independent from the results of his or her actions. “X,” their characteristics, may change, but “x” is still worth something. “X” is still what causes the change, not the other way around. Maybe…maybe we should let people be the independent variables, and see them that way, instead of trying to turn them into something they are not. That way, people would lead this country to grow and develop. Then, “y” would be happiness, and I think that has always been the perfect solution.</p>

[sjsaz]

<p>Accepted –
“Find x” essay</p>

<pre><code> There was a variable missing in my life for a long time. I believed that there were some things I was alone in, that nobody else could appreciate as much as I could. In the equation of my existence, if I were Y, the most I could say was Y = Y. I knew only about myself. Things started to change five years ago, when I took a trip to the fairgrounds in downtown Phoenix.

Let me explain: during the month-long Arizona State Fair, the fairgrounds’ Grand Exhibit Hall is home to several exhibits, including chickens, sheep, goats, and my personal favorite, butter sculptures. The last are exactly what they sound like. I remember especially appreciating the 2006 offering, “Mount Rushmoo,” a scale model of the famous Black Hills monument rendered in butter in which the presidents’ heads were replaced with the heads of cows. But after the fair has been packed away, and the last funnel cake topped with the remnants of the last buttery bovine chief executive, the hall is transformed. The animal stalls are cleared away and replaced with long tables. Signs hang from the ceiling: “Fiction.” “Cookbooks.” “Humor.” The books arrive by the truckload, and for one weekend in February, I feel like all is right with the world.

I first visited the VNSA Used Book Sale at the insistence of a friend in middle school. Chelsea had gone the year before and loved it, or so she told me. So I went with her, not really knowing what to expect but preparing to be underwhelmed. I mean, a charity book sale? Who wants to buy something somebody else was willing to give away for free?

Shock overcame me, then, when we showed up at the front gates. The line to get in snaked from the entrance to the other end of the hall, doubling back on itself three or four times. What was going on? I had always felt that my love of reading was something I shared with only a few people. Most of my friends enjoyed a good novel from time to time, but I had won the Reading Olympics for total pages read each year in second through sixth grade. I lived for good books, and thought I was alone in that regard. To see these hundreds if not thousands of people who had gotten up early on a Saturday and come out to the fairgrounds (the fairgrounds!) just for the love of books was to realize in an instant that I was a member of a group that spanned the width of society.

People filled the hall. When I joined the crowds around the science fiction tables, I saw at least two different men with waxed, curly mustaches. As I migrated into “Nonfiction – Local,” there were entire families wearing matching t-shirts. I saw bags, filled with books, that themselves were covered in printed images of yet more books. One shopper had done away with bags entirely in favor of a large rolling suitcase, and another was wearing what could only be described as a cloak. Everyone was different, but united in their goals. All these people had come together because they loved something, and it was the same thing I loved. If that was weird, then so was I. My life’s equation had been completed.

I go back every year, and it’s still like that. I love the books, I love the event, but even more, I love the knowledge that I am not alone in what I do. The VNSA Used Book Sale is a portal into a parallel universe where books are treated like rock stars, or at least minor celebrities, and where everyone is welcome. By now, half of the books I own may smell like a petting zoo, but that’s a small price to pay to have found my X. My equation goes like this: Y = X, where Y = me, and X = “a member of a world unlike any other.”
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[meowers]

<p>This is how I submitted it. I just got my acceptance.</p>

<p>Ask yourself a question and answer it:</p>

<p>Who are you and how did you get there?</p>

<p>My mother tells a story of which I am particularly proud. My pediatrician asked her to describe my vocabulary as a one-year-old. He had to cut her off when she had listed sixty words. He would have been happy with only ten. Nevertheless, as precocious as I was, I still had a long way to go to catch up with my siblings.</p>

<p>My brother and sister, twins, four years older than I, have always been a tough act to follow. I would come to each new stage in life and they had already been there. I searched for something new, something beyond what they had done.</p>

<p>My parents never pressured me into following any particular path; they encouraged me to explore my own interests. It just so happened that I had many of the same interests as my siblings. I have played cello since I was eight and I love it; I started because I saw my brother’s joy when he played. I have taken Latin since 7th grade and I love it; I was following my sister’s interest. When I got to high school, a whole realm of activities opened up. I started competing in Forensics as a freshman. I was okay in Congressional Debate; my sister had been better. Then unexpectedly, I surpassed her.</p>

<p>Congress is all about the craft. I stand in front of thirty people and I have three minutes to convince them of my view. Every sentence is shaped, eliciting emotions and evoking logic. Each sentence leads into the next one, building an arc of ideas. I push and persuade with a plethora of points. I deliver a one-two punch and their preconceived notions are knocked-out. They are left believing the only things that have remained standing: my own ideas.</p>

<p>I had found something to hold as my own, but I continued to explore other fields. Latin and Forensics, with their rhetorical devices, and writing classes at The Center for Talented Youth annealed and forged me into a writer. This was something new, something different, something my siblings are not. I have written something nearly every day for the past year, from poems to sections of unfinished novels. I love the release that I get through putting my pen to paper, through finding the exact right phrase, through hearing my voice take form.</p>

<p>The writing classes were not the only influential part of my summers at The Center for Talented Youth. It was there I was recruited to document in pictures the variety of my cohort’s activities. What began as a simple duty grew into an avocation. I began to see my world from the perspective of my lens. No longer did I see moments as fleeting, but with infinite impact to be captured by my camera. The more photographs I took, the more I noticed. I took 80,000 shots in two years. Once upon a time my walls were covered in posters of cars and models. Now the pictures are my own.</p>

<p>I am a rhetorician and I am proud. I am a writer and I am proud. I am a photographer and I am proud. No longer do I look down the roads made by my siblings, but look to blaze my own paths through the wilderness of life and learning.</p>

[cookcfc]

<p>Here’s mine. I was accepted. I think mine is pretty long… (har har, sexual innuendo joke, tehe). </p>

<p>Just Another Intersection
Take a piece of paper and draw an X in the center. On each “limb” of the X, draw another X. On each of those limbs, draw yet another X. Like a Mandelbrot graph, continue to add connected Xs until there is no space left. When you have finished, take a step back and look at your work. Congratulations, you have drawn life.
Life is about finding Xs. One moves from one X to another, making a decision at each one. What is an X? It is just another intersection. They are everywhere – in streets, in hallways, and in life. They define our being, our personality, and our direction. At each intersection we are presented with a choice. Each choice we make will lead to yet another intersection and yet another choice.
Now take a pencil and place it on one of the outermost Xs. Continue along the “limb” until you reach the first intersection. It’s time to choose. Decision time. There are four options, each leading down a different path. One may lead to your heart’s desire while others may lead you down a path of misery. All of them lead to yet another intersection of life. And there are signs – everywhere there are signs! Some are giant billboards of temptation while others are subtle hints, hidden behind others. All are trying to influence you. They are your peers, your parents, and your environment. Each wants something different from you. What do you want?
Every choice in life, whether good or bad, always leads to another choice. Some choices are bigger than others. Some Xs are bigger than others. Pizza or salad for dinner? Try a size 2 font. Marry Emma or Taylor? Bump that up to a size 72 font. In the end, even the smallest of choices result in a change of course. Each X reached should be carefully considered, and decided dependent on one’s goals in life.
I have made many choices in my life. Today I chose to eat apple pie, ignoring the giant sign telling me that apple pie is a horribly unhealthy lunch. Last week I chose to go to the Harry Potter premiere, listening to those signs representing friends who wanted me to accompany them. Two years ago I chose to embark on a journey, and spend my junior year of high school abroad in Chile. That time I listened to my heart, ignoring the signs of naysaying and doubt. I would like to think that all my choices have been well thought out and were the best option, but that would be a lie. I have made as many mistakes as any other, if not more. The key is that I have learned. The next time I reach a X, a monumental X, maybe, just maybe, I will have the knowledge and experience to make the best possible choice – the choice that leads me down a path full of happiness, adventure, and a palate of new and appealing Xs that all lead to a continuance of the utopia. I hope I make the right choice.</p>

[hmbeast]

<p>Here’s my essay. I got waitlisted. I thought mine was decent (evidently it wasn’t!).</p>

<pre><code>To be as brief as possible, no.
Let me expound upon that a smidgen in the interest of societal and individual introspection. If society required constant honesty, society would not exist. Allow me to give an anecdotal example: the other day, as I walked through the halls moodily with my hood up, a girl randomly exiting a classroom told me that I looked creepy. Pausing an angst-filled Radiohead song, I told her that saying such a thing was rather mean. Her excuse was that she wasn’t being mean, she was being honest. Now I’m terrified of having my hood up at all for fear that I’ll be confused for a hooligan of some sort. Her honesty did no good - it only made me question myself unnecessarily.
There are various larger-scale examples that help illustrate the point further. One simply does not see signs at car dealerships stating, “You are more likely to die in this car than in a plane crash,” nor is anyone alerted upon purchasing a bicycle helmet that, statistically, they are more likely to be hit by a car wearing one than not. Society is based on a series of illusions, both large and small, that are necessary to keep the fragile fibers of order together. Without this illusion, the blanket of societal propriety becomes more like one of those creepy, tattered blankets that people keep around from their childhood even though there’s a Spaghetti-O’s stain on the front.
Part of these small illusions is the simple concept of politeness. If a teacher has sweat stains and smells like death, I don’t instantly blurt out, “Mrs. So and So, you have sweat stains and smell like death!” even though doing so would be being honest.
One has to question whether or not a lack of honesty is synonymous with lying. Am I lying by not telling my hard-working teacher that he’s emitting an odor vile enough to disperse entire troops of Vikings into retreat?
However, there is the issue of outright lying, such as when I tell my boss at work that I’m a Tony Romo fan so that he’ll stop throwing rocks at me. The potential problem in lying isn’t necessarily that society will collapse but, rather, is one illuminated in Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter - lying ultimately results in the destruction of the liar. When my boss asks me weeks later about the latest Cowboy game, my immediate and ham-handed response of, “Oh, the offensive line needs to get their game in gear. But, man, we got screwed by those refs,” is punished by disappointed and skeptical looks from my fellow employees. Did I mention that I’m a mattress mascot for a local mattress store? I think that that knowledge may be necessary to appreciate the situation in its entirety. Regardless, this is still a bit more innocuous than, for example, calling the corporate office and telling them that my boss makes me go home and feed his cats formula milk to keep them healthy. Is it suspicious that I came up with such a specific example? Perhaps dishonesty is thus problematic only when it’s maliciously done. In fact, as established before, sometimes the more harmful thing to do can be to be honest.
However, if honesty is taken lightly, then certainly other virtues begin to fall; honesty is sort of like one of the middle Lincoln Logs or one of the more important Kerplunk sticks. Mutual respect is difficult to achieve when relationships are based on lies. This is why no one bothers to attend Jay Gatsby’s funeral in The Great Gatsby and why everyone thinks that Chuck Bass of Gossip Girl is a total jerk. Dishonesty tends to breed dishonesty, and the webs spun from the fibers of deceit tend to get tangled up in their collective, sticky mass. In this way, just like as the final suspended marble falls demoralizingly, a life rooted in lies will come crashing down upon the liar who lives it. Virtues like love and kindness become less absolute when such a seemingly simple concept as honesty become so. Justice, too, gains a glossy, 21st-century coat of moral relativism because dishonest people are very good at rationalizing bad behavior.
However, I’ve already established that at least some layer of dishonesty is necessary for people to get along without frequent interruptions in daily life for events like fist fights. It’s not as if no society could function with absolute honesty, but rather that our society, living in an “age of surfaces”, takes powerful offense to any implication that their own perception of reality may not be the very same as everyone else’s. Being “conveniently honest” puts truth in an awkward moral grey area that, nonetheless, helps maintain the delicate system of civility from disintegrating into chaos.
My conclusion brings me to back to my very first sentence: no, society does not require constant honesty. In fact, at least in modern society, it requires decidedly irresolute honesty. Thankfully, certain facets of contemporary society still remain purely honest, like politics.
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[lullinatalk]

<p>Waitlisted. Goddammit, either this was not good enough or there are too many goddamn South Korean kids.</p>

<p>Topic: Suppose you have been shot in the stomach. You know you have only fifteen more minutes to live. Describe what you feel. (Make up your own topic)</p>

<p>I’ve wanted to do so much with my life. Whoever wants to be sad about my death should grieve that I didn’t get to go to another concert. Concert-going was the biggest ecstasy I knew in life; I think I was addicted to the trippy experience of seeing these intangible, unreachable people whom I had only seen on a computer screen in real life. I was sharing the pool of air with the hands that were playing the music and the lips that sang what I was hearing. At every concert I went to, everything but the stage melted before my eyes, and the venue, whether it was an amphitheatre, a college bar, or a park, whispered to me that the music was playing just for me. These were the least self-conscious moments of my life. I was self-conscious to sit alone in the dining hall, to play for stadium band, and to read for pleasure in public. But at concerts, no one cared about anyone else. Every person in the audience was the loneliest and freest being on Earth at the same time.</p>

<p>Unexpectedly enough though, I am about to be the loneliest and freest I have ever been. At the face of an impending, inevitable death, I feel oddly excited. In a short time, I will find out the answer to the ultimate question of the human race: what happens after death? I have been a Catholic, a Buddhist, and an atheist, sometimes all three at the same time. For the most time, however, I think I was a big fan of Buddhism. All students of physics are. I liked to read the entropy chapter from my physics book that Mr. _______ had skipped because it was not on the AP exam. I liked the idea of infinity and ubiquity—I would be like God, a seamlessly integrated part of this world. That’s why I loved One Hundred Years of Solitude so much. I had to hold my breath at the last scene, watching Aureliano trapped by his own past, and make so much effort to keep my mind from scattering with the ashes of Macondo. This time, it won’t work; I will have to follow Macondo into the wind.</p>

<p>I don’t have a lot of time now. All my thoughts and I will be nowhere in a few minutes, and people will find me and hold a funeral for me, where they will say sweet things about me that I didn’t even know (I personally wish I could be there). They will put me in the ground and let me rot. I will become bacterial DNA, potassium ions, and cell walls. I will give life to microorganisms, plants, and little herbivores. Eventually, someone who knew me will eat part of me, and he will wonder for the rest of the day why he feels so happy that day. He will be so happy.</p>

[JustMae]

<p>Hmmm… I used to like this, but after reading some of you guys’, I have no idea how I was accepted. I did “Find X.” There were some italics… hopefully it’s still easy enough to understand without them.</p>

<p>So log base b of x over two equals… I tap my pencil against the textbook, trying to drum knowledge out of it. Equals… What does x equal? I sigh, set my pencil down on my bedspread, and collapse against the pillows. My eyelids flutter down slowly. I’ve been battling drowsiness and trigonometry problems for most of the evening, and my lack of sleep finally catches up to me. Well, maybe if I just can close my eyes for a few minutes, then I can finally figure out how to find x. I systematically go through every rule I can remember about logarithms as I curl up under my quilt. Nothing seems to fit. What is x? I have to find x. What is it…?
Somewhere, something makes a gigantic slurping noise and I’m not exactly sure where I am anymore. Everything’s dark and strangely warm. Then, glowing green lines zip across the abyss right under my feet, humming into a giant grid that extends as far as I can see. I sink down like I was on a trampoline. It’s a scene I’ve seen parodied many times. Really? I think. My thoughts echo in my head like I was speaking over a loudspeaker. I’ve never even seen Tron. This is making no sense. Why? As I think the last word, a tendril of light appears in front of my nose, startling me. The light hiccups, then curls into a letter. “Y.”
Okay, weird. My math homework isn’t even giving me a rest in my sleep. I know y, though. Maybe if I can find x, then I can nap in peace. Can I think it? X. The light swirls and twirls around my head, then comes to a stop. It quivers a bit, and then takes form. “?” A question mark? In response, the beam stretches, gives a bright flash, and curls into the phrase “Find x.” Okay, silly little light beam! My thoughts scream. Tell me how to find x. “I’ll show you,” it flashes, and then disappears.
I gaze around. Only crackling chartreuse lines greet my eyes. After a few seconds, the soft grid under me stiffens. I nearly lose my balance as the grid buckles to my right, my left, behind me, in front of me. The platform rises up and shudders, rocking back and forth. I hear the sound of… water! I stumble to the edge, which has become enclosed with a chest-high wall, and notice two things. Firstly, the grid below ripples and waves like the ocean. Secondly, what I’m standing on has become opaque brown and taken the shape of a boat. No, not a boat, a ship! A pirate ship! The ship dips suddenly and knocks me to the now-wooden floor. As I struggle to my feet, gazing into the endless blackness of the sky, I see it. X! The glorious letter seems to be made of gold; it shines and almost glows. It sits in midair about a hundred feet away from the bow of the ship. We’re heading that way! I scramble to the front as the seconds tick past. If I can just reach it… My stomach presses against the ship’s side as I strain my arm to catch the ever-approaching X. The ship rears up like a giant stallion and crashes down. I’m airborne! The X now shines above me as I hurtle down, down, down to the oscillating grid…
My body spasms, and I wake with a start. Whoah… that was weird. Can’t my dreams at least give me a break from my homework? It looks like this trig assignment won’t let me rest until I’m done. I blink away the sleep from my eyes and lug the textbook to my lap. Okay, try this again. Log base b… wait. Can it be? A half-remembered word from my teacher catches in my brain, and I excitedly work through the problem. That was too easy. Can it be right? I flip to the back of the book and grin. What an odyssey it’s been, but I’ve finally found x.</p>

[gustavklimt]

<p>Instead of an “essay”, I decided to do a journal project documenting a week that I spent in Colorado to submit to uChicago. The journal was made under the guide of a prompt that I created:
“UChicago students are known to exhibit an intellectual vitality even after class. Take us with you on an intellectual adventure, whether physical, mental, or both.”</p>

<p>It’s full of drawings, musings, physical adventures, funny stories, sad stories, serious ideas, philosophical debates, and the journal came with a CD (each entry is titled as and matched with a separate song), an “about the author”, a map, and more.</p>

<p>It was a kind of risky (and pretty spontaneous) decision, but I was accepted within the RD round. The journal took me about a month to complete.</p>

<p>[Summer</a> in Salvador | uChicago Journal Project](<a href=“http://summerinsalvador.■■■■■■■■■■/post/3212466939/uchicago-journal-project]Summer”>http://summerinsalvador.■■■■■■■■■■/post/3212466939/uchicago-journal-project)</p>

[glassesarechic]

<p>^The journal was a great idea. (Plus I’m enjoying looking through your tumblr–cool stuff.)</p>

[JustMae]

<p>^^ That journal is too awesome for words!</p>

[geniustai]

<p>That journal was awesome!! (Not to be a stalker, but I think I saw you on the first page of Phoenix Facebook!)</p>

[coocoocachoo]

<p>@gustavklimt
You’re gorgeously creative, and I’m in awe. You deserve your acceptance.</p>

<p>Here are my essays. I was rejected, and after reading this thread, I see I had no chance. Nevertheless, I’m quite proud of my essay. I came up with my own prompt. </p>

<p>The 1896 edition of the International Cloud Atlas defined ten types of clouds. Cumulonimbus was cloud number nine, and could rise higher than any other cloud, hence the common expression “cloud nine,” indicating the highest state of bliss. However, in our opinion, the thought that everyone achieves paradise at precisely the same calculated level is absurd. When do you achieve exaltation?</p>

<p>I hold in my hands the secret to conquering the world: a seemingly simple, shiny silver pot. Within this perfectly circular vessel begins my adventure into a realm of sorcery and limitless possibilities.
The pot begins barren, and slowly I add the components: vegetables, water, salt, pepper, chicken. I combine the most mundane of elements and end up with pure magic. I conjure love potions, whose heady influence guarantees adoration of all the lips it meets. I brew truth serums, whose intoxicating flavor renders its victims unable to speak anything but the truth. I concoct healing elixirs, whose invigorating taste instantly cures its drinker of any and all ailments. They can deceive their imbibers into any course of action, anything my little heart desires.
Yet my alchemy comes forth not for others, but for myself.
With each chop of the knife, beat of the fork, and kneading of the hands, I take my cathartic refuge. I reflect on the impossibility of calculus, and the garlic becomes smaller. I worry about the impending essay of doom, and the eggs get fluffier. I stress over the looming threat of college rejection, and the dough feels smoother.
Food goes beyond the mere task of halting the protests of empty stomachs. More than satisfying hunger, it satisfies the soul, refilling vacant hearts with warm memories and carefree laughter. Zucchini fritters transport me to Dianne’s living room, where my friends and I pop them into our mouths between yelling in Arabic, Mandarin, and Italian at our language exchange meetings. Burnt macaroni and cheese propels me to Thanksgiving, where although I can make complicated soufflés, a balsamic reduction, and the best fried chicken west of the Mason Dixon Line, I fail to make a simple cheddar noodle dish for the fifth consecutive year. My signature white chocolate oatmeal craisin cookies with orange zest lead me to tea parties with my little cousins, where we read from my worn pop-up edition of The Little Prince and imagine we’re on asteroid B-612. It does not matter the precise situation; bliss exists in each and every second because I control the moment.
By composing my symphonies of flavor, I fulfill not only my physical need for sustenance, but my need to relish in my own sovereignty. I use no recipes, allowing my instincts and taste buds to guide me down the path to nirvana. No longer exists the requirements of precise measurements, careful planning, and restrictive instructions the manual for life demands. I experiment with abandon, and permit sheer irrational exuberance to dominate my mind. The tumultuous passions previously bottled up within me can now release itself into art. All ridiculousness ceases, because to just cook breeds the nonsensical. But this is where the true enchantment lies. The well ordered world has no place in the kitchen, where chaos and intensity govern. Powerful emotions and meticulous crafting go into each and every dish, and its potential stretches infinitely.
After treacherously long days trapped within the confines of daily monotony, cooking salvages my sanity. A recipe for life involves generous handfuls of creativity, brimming cups of zeal, and dashes of whimsy to taste. A life lacking imagination is a life lacking passion, and without passion, the drive for life dissipates. Cooking frees my mind from the bondage of conventional thinking, and reminds me to live audaciously, think vibrantly, and never allow my dreams to fade into the crowd.<br>
The instant I cross the threshold back into the real world, reason resumes its throne, academia retains its grip, and panic ensues once again. But while the bewitching hour has passed, its spell has not broken. I simply recall that the portal to the mystical world lies just within my cupboard.</p>

[jambii]

<p>@gustavklimt: That was a really cool journal! I’m glad to see someone like you get in.</p>

<p>As for me, waitlisted. Writing this essay was the most fun I had at any point in the application process, though, so I guess I can’t complain too bitterly. I went for something a bit more unconventional, and wrote an interview with myself, in the style of Glenn Gould, discussing the “if you could dissolve anything” topic.</p>

<p>Salt, governments, beliefs, and celebrity couples are a few examples of things that can be dissolved. You’ve just been granted the power to dissolve anything: physical, metaphorical, abstract, concrete…you name it. What do you dissolve, and what solvent do you use?</p>

<p>a— c-----: Good evening, good evening. Down to business. You can dissolve one thing, anything. What do you dissolve, and what solvent do you use?
A— C-----: Oh, well, you know, worthy candidates practically hurl themselves from the woodwork. Hate, ignorance, disea—
a.c.: Now, now, let’s not be tedious.
A.C.: Right. Sorry. A little closer to home then: I would dissolve prejudice. More specifically—
a.c.: Well at least you’ve moderated your goals since the first time I asked.
A.C.: I wasn’t finished. Do you mind?
a.c.: Go on then.
A.C.: As I was saying, I would like to dissolve prejudice, but not just any prejudice. In particular, I would wash away the accumulated prejudices between the sciences and the humanities.
a.c.: That’s a little better. And your solvent?
A.C.: Mutual curiosity.
a.c.: I see. But now, why the prejudices between the sciences and humanities? What bearing does that have on you? If you don’t mind me saying so, it seems an indistinct goal for one fellow to long for.
A.C.: Where I direct my longings is quite another topic, thank you, but to answer your question, it’s been wishful thinking of mine that’s developed over time into a more discrete goal. There’s a gap between the two that doesn’t need to exist, and one that I think diminishes the beauty of each. The sciences and the humanities are a bit like siblings who both reached for the same pastry, call it the baklava wedge of societal respect, at the same time, and were rather put off to each find the other trying to grub it away for themselves.
a.c.: Lyric of you. And I suppose the honey of popular acceptance stuck just enough to the fingers of both parties to carry their respective disciplines into the limelight of civilization?
A.C.: No need to become hostile. But yes, something like that, if you must put it in those terms.
a.c.: Yes, yes. Let me dig a little deeper, though. You speak of this divide between science and humanities as a concrete thing. What led you to that notion?
A.C.: I think C.P. Snow’s Two Cultures lecture from 1959 conveys nicely a sense of the attitude I’m describing. He speaks of intellectuals on both sides of the fence ignorant of basic tenants of the opposing side. Literary intellectuals who are unable to outline the laws of thermodynamics, scientists who haven’t read a word of Shakespeare, and that sort of thing. I would say that the dividing lines have blurred in the decades since Snow gave that lecture, but the core idea remains relevant and applicable. We face, if you may permit me the expression, long division.
a.c.: Enlightening, although I would have preferred that you restrained yourself towards the end. Now, you mentioned that your solvent would be mutual curiosity. What do you mean by that?
A.C.: Well, I believe it’s really the best-suited thing to breaking down these walls. The two branches of human advancement often operate in very different languages from one another—the sciences in terms almost exclusively more quantitative, and the humanities very often more interpretive, and intuitively so—but that’s no reason for there to be such a chasm where there should be common ground.
a.c.: No?
A.C.: Not at all. The commonality both sides share is, after all, very strong: curiosity has been the guiding muse for figures great and small in both camps. Feynman as much as Joseph Campbell, Jorge Luis Borges as much as Giuseppe Peano, and on. Though the particulars of what each field sets out to accomplish vary, they are united in the joy of discovery, the zest of progress.
a.c.: So you say. As a solvent, then, how does this guiding muse work to unlock progress between the factions, not just within them?
A.C.: Returning to what I just said, curiosity is a strong mutual guide for our warring houses, and therein lies the key. When that curiosity is expanded to include the other realm of human advancement, not just their own, it’s then that the commonalities begin to emerge in force. Though the languages are sometimes different, the underlying desire to create something, to leave a figure behind in the collective sum of human knowledge is the same. It is a cry to the world to say that you mattered. With luck, recognizing that desire is what it takes to bridge the divide.
a.c.: And if that’s not the case?
A.C.: Then I beat them over the head with this panacea of mine until it is.
a.c.: I can see that you’ve put a lot of thought into this.
A.C.: Thanks.
a.c.: None required. In closing, may I ask, to rephrase an earlier question, how you yourself would feel enriched by this great reunification coming to pass?
A.C.: Certainly, if I may wax ideal for a moment in doing so. It creates a society I want to live in; one that unabashedly recognizes the beauties of the world without resentment for their origin. Where sunflowers are appreciated both for their aesthetic delights and for the Fibonacci numbers that lurk within their design. A world, in short, of multi-interests. To paraphrase Heinlein, leave specialization to the insects.
a.c.: Quite, and thank you. Well, I see that we have run over our alloted time oh so slightly, so let us conclude on that note. A special interview, friends, with that rarest type of person: a prospective college student.
A.C.: Thank you.</p>

[kudetat]

<p>I haven’t seen many essays on the ‘honesty prompt’ so I thought I would post mine - I was accepted with a 2290 SAT1 but only mediocre GPA (about 3.6ish - 6.2/7 IB scale) and I’m an upper-middle class white male so my essay must have been received well.</p>

<hr>

<p>Essay Option 4. “Honesty is the best policy, but honesty won’t get your friend free birthday cake at the diner.” - Overheard in the city of Chicago</p>

<p>Does society require constant honesty? Why is it (or why is it not) problematic to shift the truth in one’s favor, even if the lie is seemingly harmless to others? If we can be “conveniently honest,” what other virtues might we take more lightly? </p>

<hr>

<p>Although honesty is not always the best policy, the decision to ignore the truth, even when it brings personal gain, can undermine the trust needed to maintain relationships and an individual’s sense of self. This dilemma is explored by Arthur Miller and William Shakespeare in their plays The Crucible and King Lear.</p>

<p>In The Crucible, Miller’s retelling of the Salem Witch Trials, John Proctor deceives his wife when he commits adultery. Although the affair is brief, the shame Proctor feels has a lasting effect. A year after the affair, Proctor is falsely accused of witchcraft - an accusation that carries a death sentence. Proctor is given the opportunity to go free if he will confess to being a witch. But because of the guilt he feels from having lied to his wife, Proctor chooses to hang rather than lie again to save his life, leaving his wife and children without a husband and a father.</p>

<p>In King Lear, Cordelia speaks honestly to her elderly and increasingly feeble father when he asks her to profess her love for him in return for a share of his kingdom. Unlike her sisters who speak extravagantly of their love, Cordelia says only that her love cannot be described. Lear responds that “nothing will come of nothing”, denying Cordelia a share of the kingdom. As a result of Cordelia’s honesty, her father incurs a rage that cripples the kingdom. </p>

<p>Both Proctor and Cordelia choose honesty despite the personal sacrifice that followed from their decisions and despite the fact that a lie would have spared their loved ones tremendous hurt. For both, the decision was based in their view of morality - that it is wrong to lie. Both characters valued their dignity and self-respect more than the benefits that a lie would bring to themselves or to others.</p>

<p>The implications of honesty can also be viewed from an interpersonal or social perspective. Relationships often depend on trust and trust is easily undermined by a decision to ignore the truth. The parable of the boy who cried wolf illustrates how harm can result from a lie. In the parable, a boy who is the village lookout abuses the town’s trust when he repeatedly says that wolves are coming when they are not. As a result, the town loses faith in the boy and fails to respond to the boy’s warning when wolves do arrive. Today, a lack of trust contributes to society’s inability to resolve conflicts including those in the Middle East and on the Korean peninsula where neither party dares move forward for fear of being betrayed by the other side.</p>

<p>On a practical level, it is difficult to know what lies can be justified. The truth simplifies matters, but sometimes with unfortunate results. Cordelia is brutally and, in my opinion, unnecessarily frank in her response to her father’s request. Had Cordelia considered her father’s instability before opposing him and spoken in less absolute terms, she might have helped to avoid the harm that came as a result. In The Crucible, John Proctor’s marriage turns cold as a result of his wife’s knowledge that he had cheated on her. However, had Proctor kept his infidelity a secret unknown to his wife, his marriage might have been saved and although Proctor would still feel shame, his wife’s feelings would have been spared and his family would be saved from the consequences of his infidelity.</p>

<p>On a personal, interpersonal, and social level, we should strive to maintain the truth. The truth should not be sacrificed for personal gain and care should be taken to protect the trust needed to maintain relationships. But when a lie can protect others from harm it may be justified. In most cases though, losing out on a piece of cake is a small price to pay for the maintenance of honesty and trust.</p>

[cubbiefan2009]

<p>Rejected RD, my English teacher told me this is a solid essay but my stats were probably too low to even be considered in this year’s pool. Oh well, I thought having legacy status would help but I also expected getting rejected.</p>

<p>As my pick strikes the strings of my guitar, I await the sound of my first clean chord. Only a few strings are muted this time, a small improvement from yesterday. I had only picked up the instrument yesterday and I remembered how I was brimming with confidence leaving the music store. Lately, my mood had turned sour due to the excruciating pain of steel hitting soft flesh.”Agh,” I grimace in pain as I practice for the 15th straight minute longing to strike my first clean chord. The strings had scorched my fingers a bright red color and so I would have to wait until I passed a guitarist’s rite of passage—growing calluses. Having purchased the guitar on a meager budget, I was told that it would be of low quality and thus my guitar became a scapegoat for my inexperience.</p>

<p>Frustrated with the instrument, I attempted, with no prior knowledge, what every guitarist does to achieve a crisp sound-- tuning it. I turned the tuning peg many times clockwise and counterclockwise until I heard the guitar string snap in half. At x= 2 days, I had already run into a hole in the graph. Embarrassed, I returned to the music store where I explained myself, took a sharp hit to my ego, and carried on, now acting with more patience and maturity. I even bought a tuner to prevent any further mishaps.</p>

<p>Sure enough, I grew calluses on my fingers and I progressed quickly in my online instructor’s course which was broken up into several stages. I practiced for three weeks straight, the amount of time it takes for the brain to form a habit, one which has stuck with me ever since. Each day I timed myself to see if I could get to “60”, the amount of chord changes I wanted to make per minute before I could move on to the next set of chord changes in Stage 2. I grew tired of the repetitiveness of practice but I reminded myself of my early gaffes.</p>

<p>Eventually, I enveloped myself in guitar. After two months of just practicing Stage 1, my fingers had become very nimble. Chord changes which might as well have been acrobatic leaps of faith a few months back now seemed mechanical. For a while, I had actually imagined my fingers to be small gymnasts, always jumping from one bar to the next. My chords no longer sounded muted or buzzed; my guitar felt like a real bargain. </p>

<p>Many people buy guitars but not surprisingly, there are always a surplus of them in closets or attics. At the theatre, I overheard a young prospective music major say “I’ve tried to play guitar but it hasn’t been working out for me”. I was shocked that someone with a potential mastery of music theory would say that. However, I sympathized with her, sharing her growing pains of learning such a complex instrument. I began to think that any guitarist will come infinitely closer to the asymptote known as guitar perfection as the value for x=time grew larger.</p>

<p>Even though I thought that x equals time, a variable that charts my progress in learning the guitar, I realized that x also symbolizes ever-changing challenges leading up to playing an actual song or learning a new scale. To alleviate the process of solving for x in the grand scheme of the equation known as a song, I had to make several adjustments such as becoming more pragmatic. Learning how to play an instrument where muscle memory is critical to development leaves almost no room for error. Making a silly mistake such as breaking my guitar string forced me to recheck my work and work at a slower pace to focus on the fundamentals. Finding x also meant that spontaneity had no place in my routine. Being a person who usually dislikes structure, I tried hard to focus on the task at hand and not what I would be doing three stages from now. Just like in arithmetic problems, finding x in real life usually involves many steps which are often overlooked leading to incorrect solutions.</p>

[blackpixel23]

<p>After several fruitless hours of trying to Find X and with the deadline looming over me, I decided to instead opt with the prompt of what are the two people in the world. I had fun writing it and wanted to go away from the serious tones that I knew many Find X essays would have.
Oh, I got accepted by the way. </p>

<pre><code> The Great Bathroom Divide
</code></pre>

<p>“The only time the world beats a path to your door is if you’re in the bathroom”
Anonymous</p>

<p>The significance of the bathroom has dramatically evolved over the past millenniums. Once just a simple hole in the ground, the bathroom now holds a very special place in our society. It is where girls delicately apply their makeup, hoping to impress boys, and where boys roughly shave the jungles that they call beards, hoping to impress their moms. It is the best friend of those who had a long night out while being the enemy of stay-at-home mothers who spend all day in. Sometimes we talk quietly to ourselves in the mirror, and other times in the shower we belch out pop songs for the world to hear. There exists a toiletry arms race even. Not satisfied with porcelain or wood, some people opt for gold, whether it be adorned on sink handles or plastered across walls. We build monstrous caverns of his-and-her sinks, remote controlled toilets, and six person Jacuzzi baths. Though the novelty of these bathroom advancements is admirable, one question still lingers over it all: How much do people actually use their bathrooms? Thus, the world falls into two very distinct yet close categories: bathtub-ers and shower-ers. </p>

<p>As one would assume, bathtub-ers are people who take baths. However, the true essence of a bathtub-er doesn’t come from what they do but how they do it. Bathtub-ers take indulgence in cleaning themselves. They happily wait the fifteen to twenty minutes for the water to heat and for the tub to fill, lighting their lavender scented candles and setting their bottles of colorful bath salts and oils next to the tub the whole time. Bathtub-ers willingly sacrifice not just a willingness to pay for the extra water utility bill but time and patience as well; “Ahhhh. This is what I’m talking about,” they’ll say as they melt into the water. A bath only ends once a bathtub-er has reached full satisfaction. Consequently, baths can last from thirty minutes to an extreme three hours. This sort of bathtub behavior extends across all facets of bathroom life for bathtub-ers. Taking a #2 isn’t a “task” but instead a relaxing break, spent either reading or just thinking. Bathtub-er Hall of Fame inductee Alicia Keys once said, “If I want to be alone, some place I can write, I can read, I can pray, I can cry, I can do whatever I want-I go to the bathroom.” Bathtub-ers view their bathrooms as sanctuaries. </p>

<p>What bathtub-ers really are though are people living in the now. They are thorough thinkers, taking their time to methodically go through every situation to take the most out of it that they can. They prefer immediate pleasure and accept every opportunity that offers it. They are the ones who stop and smell the bath water roses on this journey that we call life. If you’re lucky, you might catch one of them. They like to eat at restaurants on a weekday besides Friday. Bathtub-ers tend to be the people looking a bit happier than most. </p>

<p>Shower-ers represent the antithesis of bathtub-ers. They don’t believe in wasting so much time on bathing themselves and so, choose the much quicker and much more efficient overhead showers. Instead of wallowing in the therapeutic scents of cocoa or passionfruit, shower-ers rush through their routine satisfied with the smell of “Original.” They hastily apply body wash, concerned not with exfoliation or smoothness but only with whether they reached every square inch of their body. “Lather and rinse,” they tell themselves as they force shampoo into their hair, “never repeat.” On a good day, a shower-er gets in and out of the bathroom in less than six minutes and on a bad day, ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, shower-ers carry this mentality throughout the entire bathroom. They refuse to pull out a magazine when sitting on the toilet bowl and avoid using soap when “washing” their hands. Shower-ers don’t even brush their teeth in the bathroom! Electric toothbrush in mouth, they spend the recommended two minutes typing up emails. To shower-ers, the bathroom represents an inconvenience, a distraction from the other things that need to get done. </p>

<p>On the much larger level, shower-ers are those who always keep an eye on the future. Rather than focusing on the right now like bathtub-ers do, shower-ers constantly prepare for the “coming soon.” They’re worried about their imminent office presentations or school essays so to make time to work on those things, shower-ers minimize time spent on what they consider the trivial. They rarely cook their own meals or make trips to the gym. Shower-ers center their attention on what they believe are the important things in their life, the things that will give them happiness later. They always complete their to-do lists. In a shower-er’s version of “the journey,” one is supposed to sprint past the rose bushes and dandelion fields to rest under the shade of the big trees ahead. </p>

<pre><code>So what am I, a shower-er or a bathtub-er? Though the bathtub lifestyle holds obvious appeal, I’m well aware of its downfalls. By becoming too grounded in the present, I might lose sight of the future and what I will need to tackle it. I could stay up late until 3AM with my friends the night before school starts, savoring the last moments of summer, but I would end up with a grumpy start to the new school year. Living life as a bathtub-er requires me to constantly give up a little part of myself in my pursuit of immediate happiness. Maybe that’s why I always end up wrinkly after a bath. However, life as just a shower-er won’t work for me. Sure, I’ll get done what I’m supposed to get done. The problem though is that I have no guarantee of this future happiness. The contentment that a shower-er ever has is the assumption that he will get rewarded for all of his hard work. What if that reward never comes though?

I know that I want to have a successful future, traveling the world to international cities like Madrid or Tokyo, but I don’t want to achieve that and then look back at my younger years to see only sadness and frustration. To accomplish this balance, I live my life between the realms of shower-er and bathtub-er. I might convert into a fervent shower-er during finals week and then return to the bathtub-er mindset in the summer months. I’m a showtub-er of sorts. People say that you would learn a lot about somebody if their living rooms walls could talk. I’d rather ask their bathroom walls.
</code></pre>

[augustus1]

<p>Blackpixel–I have to say, your essay is a very honest portrait of who you are. It’s both cool and unpretentious. I’m glad you got in!</p>

[Powerpester]

<p>I wrote this at about 2 in the morning. I had no idea what to write, and in retrospect it was probably stupid but oh well. I got waitlisted. Chicago is my 3rd choice. I’ve never taken a class in economics before, so I also have no idea what I’m talking about in my essay. Also, some of the font is messed up. In the formulas, some of the letters should be the size of things to the power. In this case, I put a carrot (^) to mark it. </p>

<p>Essay #5. Salt, governments, beliefs, and celebrity couples are a few examples of things that can be dissolved. Which do you dissolve, and why? (I misread the original prompt for essay #3 so I changed it to what I thought it said).
DISCLAMER: I have never taken a class in economics before, and most of this economic model is based on assumptions that are hard to back-up with only the Internet as a source of information. Also, this essay might make it seem like I know a lot about celebrities. However, I know next-to-nothing about the lives of these people, so that assumption would be false. Thanks, and enjoy!</p>

<pre><code>If I had to choose one of the above items to dissolve, I would choose celebrity couples. By dissolving their unions, government revenue can increase, the sale of salt can rise dramatically, and new systems of belief are given the spotlight.
Yes, I know it seems unlikely that the hypothetical end of a celebrity couple, let’s say “Brangelina” (Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie), would have any effect, let alone a positive one, on a governmental institution. But if one looks a bit more closely, the two are much more interrelated than one might originally suspect. First of all, single celebrities often have a lot more time on their hands to do things like engage in income-generating work (and hence tax-generating work) like posing in advertisements (denoted by “A”) or for taking on charitable works (denoted by “C”). For example, Angelina was made a UNHCR (UN High Commissioner for Refugees) ambassador back in 2001 while she was single, and single celebrities are often much more proactive in campaigns for charitable organizations. This volunteer work helps the government by covering areas of need that might either be politically unpopular or simply unfundable. Since charitable contributions are deductable according to what tax bracket you’re in (let’s assume that Brad Pitt and Angelina would be in the highest tax bracket), these donations would have a much stronger positive economic effect on the government than a “normal” person’s would. In this model, we will apply all the gains in “C” towards the total gain (“T”), since hardly any of it will be tax deductible and it will allow the government to spend money elsewhere. In regards to “A”, the money earned from the increased advertising would go towards the individual’s income tax assessment. Since it is safe to assume that these celebrities will be earning over the $374,000 needed to fall into the top tax bracket, a tax rate of 35% will be applied to all additional income earned for advertising (“A^1”). Obviously businesses hope to generate money from the advertisements, so another “(A^2)(E)” can be added (where “E” is the rate of the excise tax in the state that the company is located in and A^2 is the total profit in sales increases as a result of the advertisement campaign) to the total earning for government. In regards to the sale of tabloid magazines following a break-up, it is safe to assume that sales would go up (effects of the current economic climate cannot be taken into full consideration). If the average price of a tabloid like Star or National Enquirer costs roughly $4, and “S” denotes sales tax in a given state, then the revenue for the increased sales in magazines (“M”, as a total, not a percentage) can be denoted as “4SM”. Further gains can be made for the government in the unfortunate case of a death of a single celebrity vs. the death of a married celebrity. The inheritance tax (after 2010) should be in the ballpark of 55% for a wealthy celebrity who isn’t married. Therefore, the federal government can make an additional 55% of the single celebrity’s personal fortune (“F”), which would include the value of all property, life insurance plans, personal savings, and everything else that a well-to-do person owns.
Before the final model for the benefits towards government can be established, however, some other factors must be taken into effect. The costs of divorce, with so much capital at stake, can run at enormously high totals for the government, who has to pay the bill for holding court sessions, hiring judges, et cetera. These costs can be denoted as “J” (which takes into account court fees that the celebrities involved will pay). Other extraneous issues might apply, such as differences in income tax for married vs. non-married celebrities. However, given that there is disagreement about whether or not a “marriage penalty” exists, this is not taken into consideration in this model. The final economic model would look like:
</code></pre>

<p>T =C+.35A^1+A^2E+.55F+4SM—J
“Dissolving” celebrity couples can also have a beneficial effect for the sale of salt, also known as “N”. Divorce in the lives of celebrities often catches the attention of those who like to spend their nights watching E or Access Hollywood, and people tend to consume what can be generically referred to as “comfort food” (for instance ice cream or potato chips, which are high in salt content) while watching these shows. Since divorce will lead to a faster rate of consumption of these foods, it is reasonable to assume that divorce will correlate to increases in the sale of salt. The purchase of these foods can be denoted as “V”, and the rate of divorce can be denoted as “D”. Since, as argued earlier, single celebrities have more time to work in advertising, increases in the sale of salty goods could increase. This will be denoted by “BVD”, with “B” representing the amount of additional time spent doing ads for goods that contain salt. However, celebrities don’t always do advertising on purpose. The result of a divorce might leave a celebrity looking for a new spouse, resulting in that celebrity exercising more often. Tabloids might snap photos of the person in question eating a power bar or drinking Gatorade. This might indirectly make observers prone to exercise, which would result in increased consumption of these exercise products. “P(G|D)Q” will represent a celebrity exercising with something like Gatorade (denoted as “G”, with the chance of this celebrity being divorced taken into account (again, denoted by “D”)) and the number of people who will consume these exercise products as “Q”.
There is a small chance that a divorce will lead to an event designed to hurt the sale of salt. The most obvious event that comes to mind is the creation of a new diet by a celebrity as an effort to get in shape for the dating life while at the same time earning money (think Jenny Craig, only as a result of a divorce). “K” will represent the event of a celebrity creating a diet, and “L” will represent the loss of salt sales, which is obviously correlated to the success of the diet. Numerous other factors could be taken into consideration, but in general the following model could be used in a simplified case:
N=VD+BVD+P(G|D)Q—KLD
Religious beliefs might also gain new attention from the divorce of a celebrity couple (“R”). This can usually be attained through two different means: either a divorce happening because of a disagreement on religious principles; or a distraught single celebrity finding a new religion to fill the gap left by their former significant other’s departure. An example for the first case is Elisabeth Moss leaving Fred Armisen because he wasn’t a Scientologist. Obviously Scientology was famous well before the split, but it is fair to assume that the split only brought more attention to the religion. These cases will be denoted as “P”. The second case, the finding of a new religion, occurs rather often as well. Sandra Bernhard joined Kabbalah after a breakup. These cases will be referred to as “N”. The case of the religion spreading from a celebrity who has found a new belief due to divorce will be denoted as “P(I|N)”, with “I” representing the number of people who joined the new religion of the celebrity (for example Madonna then converted to Kabbalah as well). However, the case of a celebrity losing all faith in religion and becoming atheist or agnostic (for the purposes of this model these will not be considered a religion) must also be taken into consideration. “H” will refer this to. The following formula might be applied:
R=P+N+P(I|N)—H
It might seem that it is almost impossible to relate the gain to the government from the dissolution of celebrity marriage to both changes in the consumption of salt and to patterns of religious belief. But when the proper economic models are applied, we can argue that a relationship is revealed. Some might be skeptical–Mark Twain might observe that there are “lies, damn lies, and statistics.” But perhaps a more nuanced and opaque comment from another famous author, Lewis Carrol, is the best way to end this exercise: “Contrariwise, if it was so, it might be; and if it were so, it would be; but as it isn’t, it ain’t. That’s logic.”</p>