<p>I’m trying to do the “create your own prompt” option but my essays are turning out to be cheesy and overly mushy. Anyone else having trouble with that as well?</p>
<p>I just got accepted early action so I am going to post my extended essay because reading through this thread over the summer really helped me think creatively. Good luck to the deferred and regular applicants. </p>
<p>Topic 3 (Between Living and Dreaming) </p>
<p>When we were five we would go to the land between living and dreaming every day. In this land we were astronauts, cowboys and Indians, kings and queens; we mattered. We were no longer too weak, too young, too small. We had something the world had thrown away, the key to this magical land and we swore we would not make the same mistake the adults did. We swore to treasure our keys.</p>
<p>When we were seven, the land between living and dreaming was our source of comfort and solitude. It was our friend. We would escape there when we were lonely, when we were sad, when we were misunderstood. In this land we were still astronauts, cowboys and Indians, kings and queens. In this land we still mattered.</p>
<p>Then we turned eleven and began to neglect our keys. We were “middleschoolers” and “preteens” now. Girls became pretty and guys became cute. Our humor, our looks, what made us attractive to them consumed our time. It became much harder to go back to the land between living and dreaming. Our keys were rusting. The door had become smaller. It was much easier to slide the disc into the game system or turn on the television and watch others be scientists, cowboys and Indians, kings and queens. We were almost teenagers. In our minds we already mattered. However we did not completely forget our keys. When we were alone we would pry the door open and squeeze into the land between living and dreaming. For a couple of minutes, shielded by the privacy of a locked bedroom door, we became rock stars, actors and professional athletes. For a couple of minutes we truly believed the future was in our hands.</p>
<p>On our sixteenth birthday we got new keys. These keys took us to the movies, to parties, to hang out with friends. It was our source of freedom. We no longer visited the land between living and dreaming. Underneath old SAT admission tickets, crumpled up phone numbers, past homework assignments, and basketball practice schedules, we had lost our keys. All that mattered now was an acceptance letter, the key to our future. With this we would become doctors, engineers, lawyers, and scientists. With this we would truly matter. In a couple of years we went off to college, our whole lives ahead of us. In all the excitement we left our keys to the land between living and dreaming behind. We did not realize it at the time but we had broken our childhood oaths. We had thrown away our keys.</p>
<p>At thirty-one years old we sit in the dark, heads in our hands, overworked and overstressed. Bills, loans, mortgages and interests rates seem to overwhelm us. Our five-year-old daughter asks to sit in our lap. She wants to help. We brush her off and tell her to go play somewhere else. We do not even look up as she leaves dejected. All that matters now is money, “how much do I, should I, will I make,”“how much do I, should I, will I pay.” As we head to bed exhausted we stumble upon our daughter in her room surrounded with toys. Grinning she leads a conversation as intelligent as an astronaut, as bold as a cowboy, as elegant as a queen. We sit down with a cheap smile on our faces and attempt to play with her. We try to explore outer space, to fight cowboys and Indians, to live the regal life, to escape from our worries but find we can’t. We no longer can. The door was locked and our keys were gone. We had lost the land between living and dreaming. We had lost our imagination.</p>
<p>This essay was the product of constant rewritting and many different prompt changes and I felt that it did not fully address the prompt but it must have worked so don’t be discouraged in your process of essay writing. Good luck!</p>
<p>I did option 5. Posed myself a question involving MJ. Basically, it ended up being about my small business startup, my failures, and how I “failed my way to success.” It wasn’t the creative style they were looking for, I guess, but it was personal, insightful, and I did get in EA.</p>
<p>@MitDuke
That was an amazing essay! I loved it so much.</p>
<p>Essay Option 1
What does Play-Doh have to do with Plato? The 2011 University of Chicago Scavenger Hunt List</p>
<p>How does modeling clay relate to one of the greatest philosophers known to man? Surprisingly the answer may be found in the form of a working-class blue collar man from Springfield, Homer Simpson. Homer, the classic cartoon father known for his catchphrase Doh similar to the ending of Play-Doh experiences firsthand one of Platos main theories, the allegory of the cave. </p>
<p>In Platos famous allegory, a man who is born in a cave is one day taken outside by an unknown figure for the first time. For his whole life the man had only seen shadows and thus accepted the shadows as the truth. Now the man is forced to accept a new reality. Yet, when tries to enlighten others who were born in the cave, they reject him as crazy. Homer embarks on a similar endeavor. </p>
<p>In the episode Hungry, Hungry Homer, Homer decides to become a Good Samaritan. He assists his son in finding a girlfriend and even helps Marge get two free streaks from her hairdresser. But when he confronts the manager of the Springfield Isotopes, the towns baseball team, he has no idea what hes in for. Although failing to complete his favor for his friend Lenny, Homer makes a monumental discovery when he finds a closet full of baseball gear labeled Albuquerque Isotopes. He had accidentally discovered the teams plans to relocate to a more populated area.</p>
<p>This places Homer in a scenario very similar to the man in the cave from Platos The Republic. Fate had accidentally caused Homer to stumble upon a higher state of truth. The thought of the baseball team even leaving was completely foreign to Homer. What a crazy room, theres no Albuquerque Isotopes, Homer replied at first. Like the man in the cave who for the first time witnessed light directly, Homer was quick to make the assumption that the typing was a mistake, rather than the managers malicious intentions to make more money. Yet, once Homers eyes adjusted to the higher state of truth, Homer was compelled to tell everyone else it.</p>
<p>Remembering that there were others who were completely unaware of this discovery, Homer attempted to go back into the cave to enlighten his fellow Springfieldians. In the episode, Homer attempts to do this through a hunger strike outside of the stadium. Unfortunately, Homers attempt is not much better than his counterpart who was chained to the cave. Instead of being treated as a revolutionary or a hero, the community, who has only known the shadows as the truth, treats Homer as a crazed lunatic. Milhouses dad is quick to respond that It would have been on a talk radio show like Sports Chat or Sportzilla and the Jabber Jocks. Rather than gaining credibility, Homer becomes an odd attraction.</p>
<p>Yet, unlike Platos scenario, the unknown men who brought the first man out of the cave have decided to interfere in Homers plot. The manager of the team, Mr. Duff, decides to take advantage of Homers protest by moving him behind centerfield of the Isotopes stadium. Still, even though it seems like it is hopeless, Homer sees himself figuratively as Jesus but not in a sacrilegious way. He acknowledges that everyone should be aware of the truth.</p>
<p>In the end, the episode takes a sharp turn from Platos The Republic. Mr. Duff, feeling like he has won, allows Homer to speak on the microphone. Homer shockingly uses this opportunity to reveal the truth. His words allowed others to break from their chains and witness the light for themselves as well. Yet the episode acknowledges that some like Duffman are hesitant to question whether to risk accepting a new higher state of truth or staying within their old and more comfortable understanding of the world. </p>
<p>Ironically, it is the intervention of the unknown figures in order to hide the truth from the other cave dwellers that unintentionally caused the whole community to become aware of the real truth. Through this, Matt Groening, the creator of The Simpsons, may have actually expanded upon Platos thought experiment by questioning the outcome if the original unknown figure had tried to manipulate the first man chained inside the cave. Regardless of whether Groenings take on Platos thought question was credible, Homer characterizes Platos ideas the best at the end when he gladly states, The truth never tasted so good.</p>
<p>It is through the wacky adventures of Homer Simpson, that producer Matt Groening is able to masterfully intertwine an ancient Greek philosopher with a common household toy.</p>
<p>MitDuke, I loved your essay. So poignant… and true.</p>
<p>I personally wrote a not-so-original-or-quirky essay for the free prompt. I was accepted early, though, so I suppose it did the job.</p>
<p>Just applied RD, option 5: Be it Facebook, procrastination, or this essay, what keeps you up at night?
I can’t sleep. Going to bed is a ritual for me, but the only part that stays the same is lifting my sheets and hopping in. I switch to my left side, then back to my right. Then I start thinking about how I usually stay on my left side, but ultimately fall asleep on the right. I see the light from my alarm; didn’t I read somewhere that red light has the least influence on brain activity at night, and is thus ideal for alarms? Where is my alarm made by the way, China? Don’t they have some questionable trade practices going on? How’s the DOW doing, any fluctuations because of the European market scare? Doesn’t the stock market use red lights? I look over at my clock; it’s midnight. I’m not surprised.
I am fascinated with thinking, the thought of it, and just thinking about it. I can’t stop. My love for delving into any and all mediums of knowledge has gravitated me towards current, worldly events. I have acquired an affinity for learning about the endless occurrences around us. Nonetheless, what stimulates all of my passions is thinking. The unearthing of a problem or situation sets off my fuse and I stand dumbfounded as I my thoughts voraciously branch out and intertwine.<br>
I am an analyst. I sometimes become dazed, enchanted even, by the people and events around me. I look for small nuances in others’ words and the implications behind worldly events. I dream about them. My uncanny mindset has shaped me to deliberate thoroughly any situation I approach and hold a very objective view of the world. Nonetheless, my day’s inquisitions come to haunt me in my slumber. What does a self-sustaining nuclear reaction even do? This is where I decide to physically find out myself, only to further release a Pandora’s box of thought.<br>
At the end of the day, or in my case even later, my thoughts don’t detract from my goals, but provide journeys of imagination in the process. They form bridges over troubled waters. They give me an appreciation for such simple a task, but such complex and immense an outcome. I can go from thinking about why a duck’s “quack” doesn’t echo, to ideas for designs in prosthesis, and back. I live in a conscious coma, one in which I stay gorged but never satisfied, with feasts for thought.</p>
<p>@MITDUKE </p>
<p>Oh my gosh I just finished writing my essay and you clearly put mine to shame! LOVED IT SO MUCH.</p>
<p>@MITDuke: Brilliant essay. I was accepted EA as well but mine wasn’t nearly as interesting as yours. Perfect balance of elegance and simpleness, and extremely accessible to ANY human being.</p>
<p>I got in EA this year - I got a holiday card from my admissions rep in our area referencing my essay. I was kinda worried submitting it, but I guess it had what it needed.</p>
<p>POSE YOUR OWN QUESTION:</p>
<p>You are playing a game of chess. All of your pieces are available for you to move, and each move has the same strategic value. Which piece would you move and why?</p>
<p>I would move the pawn. The pawn is the piece that nobody cares about, the one that everybody ignores. Even the connotation of the word pawn is something to be controlled by a greater power, something to take orders, only as important as its immediate role as either a meat shield or a sacrificial lamb. The pawns very status of being-pawn automatically disqualifies it from major strategic consideration. It is always supplanted by the higher order pieces, sacrificed as a means to a greater strategic end. Yet the pawn possesses a power far greater than any other piece. The pawn is a saboteur, hidden in broad daylight. The opponent sees the pawn, yet their eyes simply slide over it towards more important pieces on the board: the bishops, the rooks, the queens, the kings. However, the pawn’s inconspicuousness is its greatest weapon. Once the pawn reaches the other side of the chess board, it is transformed into any other piece that it wants to be it can become a queen, a rook, a bishop, a knight, to suit the purpose of the controller. The pawn becomes a “higher order piece,” now in the opponent’s territory, ready to exact a surgical strike upon the person who ignored the pawn only a turn before.
The person who plays the pawn understands both the game of chess and life itself as not only a brutish game of attrition, but a game of finesse that requires the inclusion of all pieces. The pawn clearly holds a strategic power that no other piece has the ability to hold. Can a queen just sneak into the territory of the enemy without being captured? Obviously not. The strategic implications of the pawn cannot be taken lightly. One cannot simply ignore the pawn, lest they desire a quick and resounding defeat.
Life itself plays out as a game of chess, the social circles we all inhabit, the way we interact with other people, other communities, and other nations. Even in high school, chess pieces manage to manifest themselves as personalities. There are the kings and queens (how fitting that they are most often the prom king and queen). Below them are the knights, the bishops, the rooks, those teens of mid-level popularity and social status. And finally, there are the pawns, cleanly demarcated from those that regard themselves as the pawns better, the nerds, the geeks, the student body that isnt popular. Many pawns believe themselves to be hidden in broad daylight, invisible in the shadow of the bastions of popularity.
I understand what it is like to be the pawn, to be the object instead of the subject. But I have crossed the board. Never giving up, dodging through the chessboard of high school, invisible in broad daylight, I have transformed into a leader, undergone metamorphosis from my lowly pawnship to a great king. The border between the pawn and higher order pieces is not so solid as to prevent diffusion from one side to the other the membrane is entirely permeable for those that wish to cross the board.
Too often, people believe that they can solve problems by themselves, not mixing with others that arent in their social class or arent like them. However, this type of exclusion could be at the root of all problems of humanity. Why can we not effectively compromise, why can we not develop strong relations with other countries, why must the defining characteristic of human relations be antagonism instead of constructive engagement? Because people of all groups refuse to see the value of the pawn. People refuse to acknowledge the great king or queen that each and every person has the ability to become. We all have the ability to cross the board, to become something greater than we are today.
Coming from the status of pawn, I have learned to include others, to use all peoples talents to achieve a communal end, to give each and every person their due. Moving the pawn includes each and every person’s talents on a problem, constructively engaging humanity as a whole no matter their status.
Each and every person has their talents, their desires, things that make each person a king in their own right, no matter their status. Each and every person has an opinion, an idea, a new method of solving a problem, and most importantly, a different perspective. All people have the potential to blossom into something greater than they were yesterday or the day before (much as the pawn does when it finally crosses the chessboard). And this is what playing the pawn fundamentally comes down to. The ability to use each and every person to their full talent, to provide an atmosphere that not only nurtures but encourages pawns to blossom into great kings or queens, and to understand each persons strategic significance when confronting a problem. After all, when one finally does play the pawn and engages every piece in their arsenal, there is only one final word to be spoken to the opposition: checkmate.</p>
<p>This is my essay for essay option 4. It is a monster.</p>
<p>Many would claim that they would rather sit through multiple episodes of Hannah Montana or Toddlers and Tiaras or some other form of cruel and unusual punishment than go to a math contest. But that day, while everyone else was driving home, I was climbing onto a school bus with a destination of exactly that. For me, I figured going to a math competition was a good way to have a break from the monotony school without being counted absent. After all, you didn’t have to be a math genius to tell that going through an hour-long math examination would be shorter than going through seven hours of classes. Although there was no way, no way, I was actually going to win anything, I was going to get the chance to have fun with my friends and maybe even meet some new ones.</p>
<p>Before I sat down, I looked around the bus at the hodge-podge of students gathered. Usually, I could be assured that I was the “smartest” person in the room, one of the sureties in my teenage life. But clearly it wasn’t the case here. Across the aisle from me was my grade’s valedictorian, a bona-fide math genius. Sitting next to him was the smartest sophomore in the school, who had received the “best student” award in all of her classes last year. Behind me was one of my friends who had made a perfect score on her ACT and SAT – her junior year. There was no way that I could compete with these people, even when my intellect was supposed to be my greatest strength. But if I didn’t have that, where else was my worth supposed to come from?</p>
<p>As the day progressed, my feeling of inadequacy didn’t disappear, despite the fun I was having with my friends. While I usually loved to meet new people, it seemed that everybody I got know was smarter than I was. One of them liked to read math textbooks for fun, even though I couldn’t begin to understand what they were saying. Another person was a paid university robotics researcher. In fact, he was going to teach at the university next semester.
Sometime between having dinner and going up the hotel elevator to my assigned room, I had a realization: I couldn’t keep basing my self-esteem off of being the best. No matter what, there were always going to be someone out there smarter, more prepared, and more talented than I would ever be. I wasn’t going to be a robotics lecturer, especially not while I was still in high school. And I wasn’t a junior anymore, so even if I did get a full score on both standardized tests, I wasn’t going to be more impressive than my friend. If I wanted to ever have a peace of mind, I was going to have to let go my insecurities, and accept that I had to stop comparing myself to people. </p>
<p>The next morning was judgment day. I felt terrible and could barely stomach my breakfast. My queasiness only got worse when I arrived at the testing room. Nor did it go away when I received my exam, as I flipped through the various pages of the test and realized that there were so few problems I knew how to do. While everyone else seemed to be furiously ripping through the problems, I was groping in the dark trying to see what problems I could actually do. </p>
<p>But that didn’t matter to me. I realized that I wasn’t here so that I could compare myself with the school valedictorian or the sophomore genius. At this point, I wasn’t going to do better than them. I could only do my own best. Sweeping away the discouraging thoughts, I narrowed my vision down the questions below.</p>
<p>As the exam went on, I began to feel even more nauseated and figured that there wasn’t much point into doing any of the questions, especially if answering one of them wrong was only going to make my score lower. With only ten of the twenty-five questions completed, I put my pencil down for good and tried and stared at the room’s walls, hoping that none of the proctors think that I was trying to cheat.</p>
<p>Finally, time was called, and it was time to turn our tests in. I took one last look at my ten lonely answers and then cast my answer sheet away. But on both sides of me, there were two answer sheets that had been completely filled. Once again, I was struck about how incompetent I was. But I realized that trying to compare myself to them wouldn’t change what had happened. It wouldn’t change the amount of questions I had answered, and it definitely wouldn’t change my math skills. I had done the questions that I could, and that was what mattered. </p>
<p>After the exam, everyone went into the auditorium to see who would go onto the next test. Out of the six-hundred people who had came here today to compete, only fifty of them would move onto the next round, an even harder math exam. I figured there was no reason for me to be here since I wouldn’t be advancing to the next round and wished that I was in line for lunch instead. But since I was already here, I decided to indulge my curiosity. Unsurprisingly, up on the projector screen were the names of the valedictorian and the sophomore genius. But right next to them was clearly the words “[My name here, edited for security reasons].”</p>
<pre><code>Looking around the math room for the second exam was like walking onto the bus a second time. All of the math geniuses I knew had were here, and somehow, I had made it to the same level as them. I felt like a waddling duck in a room full of graceful swans, sort of like an inverted ugly duckling. But among the people who were missing were the two that had sat next to me earlier.
</code></pre>
<p>. The new test was even harder than the one I took in the morning. It might as well been written in a foreign language. To make it worse, all of the questions were free response and required proofs. Once again, while everyone was furiously writing around me, I only stared at the questions blankly. Flipping through the pages, I could not remember anything that I had learned that would make me capable of solving answering any of the problems, but this time, I didn’t feel ashamed or anguished. I realized the reason I couldn’t solve the problems because wasn’t because I was stupid; rather, I just didn’t have the background. There were so many other people in the room who had something that I didn’t, but it was okay. Unlike the math test, life wasn’t a competition. But instead of wasting the hour I would have left, I took a sheet of the scrap paper, and started writing.</p>
<p>This time, with zero questions answered, I proudly turned in my test, and looked around the room for the final time. Some of the people around me would be winning awards and scholarships, some not. None of them had written a story. In fact, probably no one in the history of this math examination or even any math examination had decided to write a story before. </p>
<p>As I got back on the bus later in the day, I thought about what had happened since I had left the school parking lot. Back then, I had expected a day out of the ordinary. I had never expected to win, for one thing. But for all the congratulations that prize could give, they paled in comparison to what I discovered. Even though I hadn’t been to school that day, it turned out that I had still learned something new after all.</p>
<p>Now that the RD deadline has passed … here’s my essay for Option 4 (something you weren’t looking for). I got in EA with a merit scholarship.</p>
<p>This is probably my favorite of all the college essays I wrote.</p>
<p>At five years old and quite by accident, I discovered beauty.</p>
<p>Its a stereotypically lovely spring day, filled with crisp, verdant greens and vivid blues. The shadows are creeping past the border of the flower garden on the side of my house, and the sun is low and warm in the sky.</p>
<p>At least, thats how I remember it. I cant be sure, of course; it was many years ago and my memory from those days is anything but reliable. Still, if I invent a little, I dont think itll take away from my story too terribly.</p>
<p>Im playing in the grass, probably tinkling with laughter or some such thing, glorying in the breezy air and the golden sun, doing whatever it is small children do on balmy spring days.</p>
<p>And then, I stumble upon a treasure.</p>
<p>Its there in the shade, lying almost haphazardly on the mulch of the flowerbed, a brilliant blue star. A robins egg has caught my eye, pristine and smooth and gorgeous, and Im fascinated and entranced by it. I reach out a pudgy hand and grasp it between my fingers.</p>
<p>I cradle it in my palm and run up the three stone steps to the front door, ecstatic with my discovery. Before me unfolds a whole new universe of brilliant possibility. I imagine my classmates admiration when I bring the egg in for show and tell the next day. I see them all ooh-ing and ah-ing over my gem.</p>
<p>This is the punch line: I broke it.</p>
<p>Maybe I got too curious about the fragility of the blue eggshell, or maybe it was a simple accident, a slip of the fingers. Either way, the egg lay shattered, my fingers sticky with its gooey insides.</p>
<p>I stared down at it for a moment, paused, and then burst into tears.</p>
<p>I was completely devastated; devastated that I wouldnt be able to show it to my friends the next day; devastated that Id made a mess; but mostly, I was devastated that Id had something so pure and perfect in my hands and that Id destroyed it so horribly. Perhaps my older self would have shaken it off with a melancholy sigh, but at five I was still innocent, and I still thought that loveliness could last forever.</p>
<p>Beautiful things are so precious to us - for their transience, maybe, or for their rarity. For me, the enchantment they hold comes from their ability to knock us off our feet one moment and whisk by in a whisper the next. Occasionally, I somewhat whimsically imagine that beautiful things are lurking just out of sight, and that if we only squint our eyes a bit and turn our heads just right, we might see them flash by in a dance of scintillating color.</p>
<p>I suppose the tragic loss of that robins egg stayed with me for a while. As much as I try to deny it, Im a sentimentalist at heart, and I like being surrounded by physical representations of old memories, the tchotchkes and photographs and books from my past. And even now, at the grand age of 17, I keep trying to grasp onto those shimmering stars as long as I can, to preserve them in photographs and images, to solidify them into something I can keep.</p>
<p>Several years ago, I developed a penchant for obsessive nature photography. Over time, the process has become complicated: I now juggle lenses and aperture settings and shutter speeds. But even as my camera gear multiplies I think Im motivated by the same basic, fundamental impulse: to search for, to preserve, and to admire the utter awesome soul-shocking grace of beauty.</p>
<p>I applied RD. I’m fairly unsure about this essay, but I’d like some indication one way or another (preferably one way for the sake of my admission, haha). In the text “Biology Textbook” is italicized like a title and <em>figure 1.3</em> is green and bold like it is in my Bio Textbook.</p>
<ol>
<li><p>Spanish poet Antonio Machado wrote, Between living and dreaming there is a third thing. Guess it. Give us your guess.</p>
<p>The billboard stood, rusting, and proclaimed: A Taste of Life Catering. I was intrigued at the offer, because I was not quite sure what exactly life waslet alone what it tasted like. I called the number on the sign.
A Taste of Life Catering: catering with a European influence. How may I help you?
What does life taste like? I asked.
Well, the woman did not miss a beat, A general favorite is our Chicken Paella, and our Tilapia is exceptionally fresh.
Hmmm. Fascinating, I said, thinking that sounded more like the taste of death. I suppose that seems plausible. I may call you back.
We hope so, the woman retorted, and hung up.
I decided that my copy of Biology Textbook might have the answer. The billboard had giant font, but it was my mistake to think large text was more likely to hold an answer than small text. Besides, Biology Textbook had over 1,300 pages. Surely somewhere in this mass its authors would tell me the nature of their ology.<br>
Life is a characteristic of an organism, the behemoth book began, An organism is an object that is or was alive.
This circular start wasnt at all promising, but there were a lot of things that werent more promising, so I kept reading:
We recognize life by what living things do. <em>Figure 1.3</em> highlights some of the properties associated with life.
I looked at <em>Figure 1.3</em>. Reproduction. Evolutionary adaptation. Response to stimuli. The list went on.<br>
It seemed Biology Textbook and A Taste of Life Catering both agreed about the nature of life. It was eating, sleeping, and avoiding pain. It was my body walking and climbing, regulating and metabolizing, releasing serotonin and epinephrine. It was all for the survival of Homo Sapiens.
This seemed correct, and yet it also seemed wrong. It was true that I do these things, and perhaps that is what, strictly speaking, makes me alive, but I can play music. I can do calculus and read novels and appreciate art, and I am capable of even more than that: I can paint something thats never been painted, play a song Ive never heard before, call a unique sentence into existence. These creations might not be spectacular, but they are creations nonetheless.<br>
So, perhaps Im not partaking in life when I enjoy and create art. Perhaps Im partaking in something else, something beyond the survivalism outlined in <em>Figure 1.3</em>.
Perhaps Im dreaming. In a nocturnal trance, a person perceives things no one else has or will, visions that are purely constructs of his imagination. His subconscious fashioned this dream world and its unique laws of physics. All originality flows from this fountain. Of course, the conscious mind has some control over what a person creates, but the spark, the idea, comes from the realm of dreams. Dreaming is creation.<br>
Technically, all mammals enter REM sleep. Their dreams, however, consist merely of doing things crucial to survival: reproducing, eating, drinking. Exciting as this may be, the dreams of animals are not the dreams of humans. Theres no ingenuity in repeatedly doing mindless tasks; thats life, according to Biology Textbook.<br>
I pondered what separates us from these animals. It wasnt apparent what gave us the right to create, the right to enter the subjective world of dreams. This seemed like a question not suitable for A Taste of Life Catering, so I turned instead to Plato (not to be confused with a certain childrens toy.)<br>
We must agree that that which keeps its own form unchangingly, which has not been brought into being and is not destroyed, which neither receives into itself anything else from anywhere else, nor itself enters into anything anywhere, is one thing, says he.<br>
This is intriguing. Plato accounts for the sameness of an object, despite the fact that our physical perception of it constantly changes, by introducing eternal Forms bound by neither time nor space.
There are many circular objects, but none that is perfectly round. I have never encounter a perfect circle, yet somehow I grasp roundness. I can judge one object to be more round than another because my mind has the ability to comprehend perfect circularity. In fact, Plato says, all true knowledge comes from understanding these Forms and the intellectual realm in which they live.<br>
My body, simply going about the life described by Figure 1.3, is no different from that of an animal. It cannot think about pure Forms; it concerns itself with foodpainsex. My Mind, on the other hand, visits this intellectual realm to contemplate the Forms.<br>
There are many judicial systems in the world, some more just than others. According to Plato, all of them are partaking, to various degrees, in the Form of Justice. When I propose a new system thats more just than any on earth, I am emulating what my Mind knows of the Form of Justice. Thus, thinking precedes dreaming. When I create something, I am trying to actualize what I know of a Form and turn my knowledge into something tangible. I can dream only of what my Mind knows.
Between the living of Biology Textbook and the creative world called dreaming, there is a Mind, endlessly seeking knowledge.</p></li>
</ol>
<p>wow cloudless33 that was great, my favorite out of what I’ve read this year. I’ll post my essay after decisions.</p>
<p>Well I’m screwed, my essay is nowhere near as good as these. Hopefully they take mercy. I’ll post after decisions so people can look at mediocre submissions too and know what not to do.</p>
<p>dont stress out, the essays are about expressing yourself and ideas effectively, not being able to write novellas. whatever you wrote is you, don’t compare it to others</p>
<p>I did the third option and I think that my essay could go either way.</p>
<p>Passion rebuilds the world for the youth. It makes all things alive and significant.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson
Machados question has no definitive answer, however, there are many possible responses. To answer Machados question, I thought about what there could possibly be between living and dreaming. To answer the question, I first looked at what I defined as living and as dreaming. To me, living is reality it is existing in a conscious state in which our environment is acting as a stimulus and influences our actions. Dreaming envelops the unconscious state and reflects our deepest wishes, hopes, and desire. In a temporal state, living is the past and present, whereas dreaming is a fanciful future that we envision for ourselves. Therefore, I believe that the answer to the question is that the thing between living and dreaming is passion. Passion is doing what one loves to do; it is a combination of dreaming and living out those dreams. Passion is doing something that may not be fashionable or the right thing to do, yet still loving every minute of it while simultaneously not worrying what others think about you.
Living and dreaming, in my mind, represent day and night; day is when one goes through their obligations like work and school, night is when one is free to do what they like and can live in the moment without any worry. Therefore, in between day and night lies dusk when the sun is too low for it to be day, yet it is also too high for it to be night. The amber aura that lights the sky during dusk is the epitome of passion through the intense hues that, traditionally, symbolize love, the truest form of passion. Dusk is the transition between living and dreaming and is when the two separate entities come crashing together and mold into a single form passion. If it were not for passion, our society would be completely different. In a world without passion there would be no art, poetry, literature, iPhones, internet, sport, or love. Passion is the driving force behind humanity and all that has been accomplished in hundreds of thousands of years. It is possible to answer Machados question with ingenuity, creativity, or any number of things, but when it comes down to it, all these things are the result of passion. Without passion, no one would feel the need to invent or ever be able to finish anything worth acknowledgement. Imagine if Shakespeare had no passion, there would be no literary staples like Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet. Or imagine if Bill Gates was not passionate, the computer, if it was even invented, would never have lasted as a viable gadget. Passion, paired with ingenuity or creativity, is what built civilization all the way back to the Mesopotamia and is what has made everything around us today possible.
To me, passion means devoting yourself to something for the sole purpose that you love doing that thing. Personally, I am passionate about a variety of things. I am passionate about service and display that passion through annual spring break work trips that I go on with my churchs high school youth group. We have been to Edisto, South Carolina; New Orleans, Louisiana; and Deer Lodge, Tennessee. All places we have helped people who are deeply affected by poverty. Through these trips I have not only learned how to shingle a roof, construct a porch, and repair rotted wood, but I have also learned the effect and impact that these actions have upon both the people we have helped and myself.<br>
I am passionate about physics. I have amassed a library of over 20 books on physics and am making my way through reading them. I am also a captain of my schools Science Olympiad where I compete in events most related to physics such as optics and astronomy. I placed first in state in the Illinois Science Olympiad for Experimental Design where we designed an experiment that measured the effect that a magnet has on a compass at different distances. Instead of taking another AP class this past semester, I designed an independent study course for myself that had to do with topics in physics that are not taught in high school physics classes. I had decided that I wanted to focus on elementary particles. In order to have a better understanding of particle physics, I first did research and wrote papers on the history and application of quantum mechanics and nuclear energy. I may not have been able to do some of the math involved, such as the holomorphic functional calculus used in the Schrodinger equation, but I was still able to get a deeper understanding of a topic that most high school students have never even heard of and that I found immensely interesting.<br>
I find passion to be a necessary tool that needs to be used if you ever want to accomplish anything, that is why I look towards the University of Chicago for my future; I want to make a dream into reality and I know the only way to do so is through passion. In my opinion, the answer to Machados question is that passion lies between living and dreaming, but, as an extension of Machados original proposal, it is the necessary factor to bring dreams into life and reality.</p>
<p>Thanks for all the compliments and feedback!</p>
<p>Hi! I was accepted EA (so happy!), and this was my essay. I had a panic attack the day before the deadline because this was the best thing I could think of and I thought it was really unoriginal and pathetic. But it turned out alright! </p>
<p>The famous “Play-Doh and Plato” prompt:</p>
<p>There are several theories as to how Plato met his end: some say he died in his bed, listening to the music of a flute, while others claim he died by hemlock like his mentor, Socrates. The indisputable fact remains, however, that he did die. As the corpse of the beloved philosopher started its rather unromantic stages of decomposition, aerobic bacteria arrived to feast on his remainsor they came from within his own stomach and intestines. Soon they used up much of the oxygen present and anaerobic bacteria, such as acetogens, took over. They facilitated the breakdown of the proteins that made up his skin and hair, muscle and internal organs. The results were organic acids and gases such as hydrogen, methane, and carbon dioxide.
Thousands of years later, a seed landed in a field in a rural part of the United States. It landed in a field, deliberately planted by the hand of man among countless other seeds like it. Finding the conditions favorable, it began to germinate. It grew from a seed to a shoot and from a shoot to a stalk. As all plants do, it made its food by photosynthesis; it opened the stomatasmall holes on the bottoms of its leavesto let in carbon dioxide, a vital part of the chemical reaction about to take place. Photons from sunlight excited pigment particles in the leaves, starting a chain of oxidation-reduction reactions that would culminate in the production of glucosea carbohydrate, which it stored in one of its kernels. The wheat was harvested, its kernels ground into flour. The flour, in turn, was used to make a pliable modeling compound described in US. Patent No. 6713624, known to the world as Play-Doh.
It is extremely possiblealbeit infinitesimally probablethat those carbon dioxide molecules could have been one and the same: that an atom from the renowned man lies in your palm as you squish the bright pink, amorphous blob of the popular toy. Perhaps there were intermediate stepsmaybe that atom crossed the ocean as part of the body of a Greek immigrant, or an imported vegetable, or a fish. The cycle of growth and decomposition might have been repeated hundreds of times.
Ultimately, this is merely the carbon cyclea basic biological concept that most people have at least heard of. However, where many only see a series of arrows in a glossy textbook, I have always loved thinking of the reality behind them. The same natural laws that (to the best of our knowledge) govern even the farthest of all far-flung galaxies are also at work in our own bodiesand in our starch-based modeling compounds.
Therein lies, for me, the true thrill of science: the excitement of learning about ourselves and the world around us and the universe beyond that, capturing as much of it as we can with our limited human comprehension. Science frees us from the superstitions and myths of our ancestors. We no longer dismiss the mysteries of the universe as the hand of the Divinewe begin to understand them. We understand the process of decomposition, and what happens to the body after death; we have the power to view Play-Doh not just as something that is, but a chemical compound with distinct properties, consisting of atoms that, quite possibly, could have once been part of one of the greatest philosophers ever to walk the earth. Such scientific knowledge and its pursuiteven if it is about the fun to play with, not to eat toy I enjoyed as a toddlerwill forever be my passion.</p>
<p>Accepted EA! :D</p>
<p>Essay Option #5: </p>
<p>“This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.”</p>
<p>T. S. Eliot - “The Hollow Men”</p>
<p>How do you think the world will end? </p>
<pre><code>[Inside a classroom in the brand new, 13-story Harold Camping Memorial Centre for Eschatologic and Apocalyptic Studies at the University of Chicago. DR. A. enters from stage left to an attentive audience of students.]
DR. A: “Salutations, class, and welcome to Eschatology 101! I am your charismatic guide to all things doom-laden, the King of Catastrophe, the eminent expert on the End of Days: Dr. Apocalypstein! Again, welcome welcome welcome! Because the world is going to end at some point, possibly in the near future, I think we should probably just skip over the whole ‘getting to know you/handing out a syllabus’ thing and launch right in! Okay, so, does anyone know how the world will end? Yes, you in the front row.”
COLIN: “From what I’ve heard, the Sun is going to expand and become a red giant and probably engulf the Earth at some point. But first I think all life on earth is going to perish gradually as global temperatures increase and plants cannot survive and livestock die out.”
DR. A: “Good, good. You there, in the red cardigan.”
SATOMI: “Well, coming at this from a different perspective, I personally believe that the world as we know it will end after the Second Coming, when God judges all men.”
DR. A: “Excellent. Eschatology would be nothing without the perspectives afforded by religion. More ideas, people! Give me more! How about you, with the periwinkle Macbook case?”
WINSTON: “I think that eventually machines will overtake humans in terms of intelligence and physical power, and after some time they will subjugate us, so I guess that’s sort of a de facto world-ending scenario…”
DR. A:“Okay, that’s what we like here in the Eschatology department: diversity of ideas! Good. Anyone else? No? Great. Alright, so now we’re going to discuss the so-called heat death theory. Anyone have any thoughts on what heat death theory is?”
SATOMI: “The thing that Colin said about the sun expanding and burning us all to death?”
DR. A: “Good guess, but no. Basically, the heat death theory states that the universe is moving inexorably towards equilibrium, as all systems do. Eventually, there will be no free energy available to do work. The universe will have reached its maximum entropy and everything will be evenly distributed. There can be no change; everything will remain at the same temperature; time as we know it will freeze…”
[Inside the cafeteria of a suburban Connecticut high school. JAKE enters from stage left and stands at the doorway for a moment.]
JAKE [speaking to self]: “Something is wrong here… I can’t quite place it, but this day has just been bizarre in the most unsettling and subtle way imaginable. It’s like, everything is just… weird. It feels weird, the air feels weird I mean. Look at this table of girls over at, let’s say, 5 o’clock. Right there. That table could be populated by 10 of the same person and I would have no idea. It’s like a veritable sea of black North Face jackets and those jean leggings and Ugg boots… It’s creepy, really. And that table of football bros over there. They’re literally all wearing football jerseys and windpants (who the hell wears windpants anymore; what is this, 1992?) and Timberlands even though it’s not snowing or anything. God this is creepy. The populace of this suburban high school seems even more homogeneous and uninteresting than usual…”
[ARI approaches from the heart of the cafeteria.]
ARI: “Jaaaaaake, come sit with me and Alex and Sam, you dork.”
JAKE: “Okay, but first, like, look around. Doesn’t everything seem weird today? It all looks so… similar. OH MY GOD did you see that?” [points to a table of thespians, brooding in the corner].
ARI: “What are you talking about?”
JAKE: “Those oppressed, artsy theatre kids whose parents just don’t understand them, over there at that table, they keep changing. I can’t place it, but I swear they weren’t all wearing identical berets and pea coats a few seconds ago…”
[Harold Camping Centre, U. of Chicago.]
DR. A: “Now, let’s look at the mathematical basis behind this theory. We’ll use the second law of thermodynamics: delta-S equals Q over T,” [writes on whiteboard: “∆S = Q/T”], “where delta-S is the change in the entropy of the universe, Q is the heat absorbed, and T is the temperature. Now, we know that the average temperature of the universe is 2.735 Kelvin. Next, we can calculate Q by using the Stone-Cech compactification of a Tychonoff space, which is of course a perfectly normal Hausdorff space, wherein we can express the heat absorbed by the universe as an integrodifference equation differentiable with respect to the linear time-invariant system of Unsöld’s famed eigenfunction, and this should give us the result… Oh my god. No, this can’t be right. I must’ve made an error somewhere; maybe my algebra was off… No… OH MY GOD THE UNIVERSE IS GOING TO EXHAUST ITS REMAINING FREE ENERGY WITHIN FIVE MINUTES!!”
[Suburban CT high school cafeteria.]
JAKE: “Look, Ari! Seriously, look around! Everything is, like, converging. Even the most diametrically opposed cliques are fusing into weird hybrids! Look, the football team is wearing berets and the theatre kids are now hulking linebackers in stature! The walls are made of chicken patties and the cafeteria food is made of plaster (actually I guess that hasn’t changed much) and the windows are made of lunch ladies! WHAT IS GOING ON?!”
ARI: “Seriously, what are you talking about?”
JAKE: [looks over at Ari]. “Noooo, Ari, not you too!” [Ari has become a fusion of football player, thespian, stoner, socially-awkward but mathematically-gifted engineering nerd, and scantily-clad/sexually-precocious teenage seductress.]
ARI: “What the hell, dude?”
JAKE: “Oh jesus, I can barely move. I can barely speak. I…” [He freezes in place. Everything freezes in place. All goes silent. Fade to black.]
[Empty stage. A bright white spotlight shines on JAKE. He stands at centre-stage, eyes wide and pupils dilated.]
JAKE: “And thus ended the world, in a paroxysm of insuperable inertia. All things converged to uniformity. Distinct states of matter ceased to exist. Homogeneity reigned…”
</code></pre>