Undergraduate / Cornell CAS - The Fantastic Theatrical Five-Year-Old [9]

"Now!"

The hands that went with the authoritative whisper gave me a gentle push, and I scurried into the light. Squinting at the indiscernible faces in the audience, I tried to ignore my trembling knees and focused on remembering the lines I would soon have to recite. It was my big debut; I was five years old, and I was playing a tooth.

Even at five, I wanted to do things properly. I longed to hear someone murmur, "Look at her! She could hold her own against professionals!" The other children, I knew, would giggle and fidget their way through the tiny monologues assigned to us, but I wouldn't let myself. As each of my co-stars stepped forward to say their piece, I maintained my perfect posture, my back and arms aching as I formed part of a very big, very hungry crocodile. The very best actresses I'd seen, like Mary-Kate and Ashley, had huge eyes, so I made sure to keep mine as wide as possible, and I held my chin high so that I had to peer down my nose to see each child stutter through a couple of rhyming lines.

Finally, it was my turn. Clad in black leggings, grimy white sneakers, and an oversized grey sweatshirt, I strode to the edge of the stage and planted my feet. I took a deep breath, pushed my bowl-cut out of my (still very wide) eyes, and bellowed out my couplet in my very best stage voice. And then I was done. I looked around expectantly, waiting for someone to throw roses at my feet, or launch into a deafening standing ovation, but nothing happened. It was time for me to go back to the crocodile, and let someone else have a shot at West End-worthy theatrical success. I didn't slouch, or hang my head in dismay - I kept my chin up and my back straight, and vowed to do even better next time.

My innocuous debut on the stage of Norwich's Maddermarket Theatre may not have been groundbreaking, but it instilled in me an adoration of the stage. I was shy and bookish (some may have called me a know-it-all), but when I was playing someone else, I could be bold, funny, and likable, or wicked, brooding, and spiteful. I began to take away the best parts of my characters, and on numerous scuffed stages, I came into my own.

I hope to be able to continue growing and expanding my repertoire, both as an actress, and as a person. By working towards a degree in Theatre Arts at Cornell, I'll discover how to help other five-year-olds discover their inner Liza. Among other fantastic learning opportunities, I will be able to create my own characters, discover the art of costume-making, perform in multicultural plays, and absorb a wealth of information in the Resident Professional Teaching Associates workshops. Perhaps by the end of my time in Schwartz I'll have my superstar moment...

Thanks in advance! I'll return the favor! :)

Undergraduate / How horses transformed a science-phobe (revamped!) Cornell CALS Supplement [6]

I posted this the other day, but have since revamped it quite a bit - any thoughts?? This is my alternate major, I'll post my primary (Drama) essay soon. Thanks in advance - link me to your essay, and I'll return the favor! :D

I've never thought of myself as a "science person," always choosing, instead, to delve deeply into the arts. But I didn't need to throw myself into science - it came to me, in such a sly way that I never noticed it was there until I was hooked.

All my life I have ridden horses. I'm far from athletic, but somehow, when I'm working in unison with an animal, I no longer fumble and trip. My passion for all things equine - and my lack of all things monetary - led me to pursue jobs in stables, tending and riding the horses. For years I went from barn to barn, becoming the official "barn rat" at each - the kid who could always be counted on to stay late into the night walking a colicky horse, or sleep in the barn so as to feed the horses before school. In true barn rat fashion, I became the omnipresent shadow of anyone who might have something to teach me. I learned how to properly pull horseshoes, give Banamine injections, and train newly started horses.

When I was seventeen, I was offered an upgrade, and became a full-time, Olympic-level barn rat. At Team Windchase, a 70-horse Olympic facility, I rode constantly, grew some impressive shoveling muscles, and became the constant sidekick of the on-site veterinarian. I helped inseminate mares, birth foals, treat abscesses, remove bone chips, and even became a 'mother' when one of the farm's foals was orphaned. The hands-on experience thrilled and fascinated me, and I always assigned myself the arduous clean-up jobs in exchange for having ultrasounds and genetics explained in great detail.

Then, one day, it dawned on me. As I sat on my bed, sketching out Punnett squares in an attempt to determine the color of a newly-conceived foal, I realized I loved science. Rote memorization from a textbook hadn't installed that passion - using practical knowledge to help animals had. I may never go to vet school, but I hope to work with off-the-track Thoroughbreds, rehabilitating and retraining them as riding horses. Learning to look at science in a different light helped me realize its significance to my career goals.

The incredible research opportunities offered in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences will allow me to keep diving into science headfirst, applying classroom-gleaned knowledge to a practical outlet. The freedom to take classes in the Arts is liberating; Cornell would truly help me become a well-rounded individual, and pursue all my passions collectively. I don't know where I'll end up, but I do know that I want to be prepared for all eventualities. A Cornell education will give me the preparation I need to go anywhere. Who knows - perhaps I'll be the one explaining flexor tendons to the next generation of barn rats!

Undergraduate / Cornell Supplement essay - College of Agriculture & Life Sciences; Animal Sci [2]

I've never thought of myself as a "science person," always choosing, instead, to delve deeply into the arts. But I didn't need to throw myself into science - it came to me, in such a sly way that I never noticed it was there until I was hooked.

All my life I have ridden horses - I'm far from athletic, but somehow, when I'm working in unison with an animal, I no longer fumble and trip. My passion for all things equine - and my lack of all things monetary - led me to pursue jobs in stables, tending and riding the horses. For years I went from barn to barn, becoming the official "barn rat" at each - the kid who could always be counted on to stay late into the night walking a colicky horse, or sleep in the barn so as to feed the horses before school. In true barn rat fashion, I became the omnipresent shadow of anyone who might have something to teach me. I learned how to properly pull horseshoes, give Banamine injections, and train newly started horses.

When I was sixteen, I took it one step further - I became a full-time, Olympic-level barn rat. At Team Windchase, a 70-horse Olympic facility, I worked up to 16 hours a day, five-and-a-half days a week, and became the constant sidekick of the on-site veterinarian. I helped inseminate mares, birth foals, treat abscesses, remove bone chips, and even became a 'mother' when one of the farm's foals was orphaned. The hands-on experience thrilled and fascinated me, and I always assigned myself the arduous clean-up jobs in exchange for having ultrasounds and genetics explained in great detail.

Then, one day, it dawned on me. As I sat on my bed, sketching out Punnett squares in an attempt to determine the color of a newly-conceived foal, I realized I loved science. Rote memorization from a textbook hadn't installed that passion - using practical knowledge to help animals had. I may never go to vet school, but I hope to work with off-the-track Thoroughbreds, rehabilitating and retraining them as riding horses. By studying Animal Science at Cornell, I will be the best horseperson I can be, and I will have the opportunity to take many routes in life. Who knows - perhaps I'll be the one explaining flexor tendons to the next generation of barn rats!

Thank you so much! :)

Undergraduate / Common App short answers - Activity, and Secondary School Interruption [5]

Activity:

Act One, Scene One. The curtains open; the white-hot lights flick on with an electric hum. The silence in the audience is amplified by the omnipresent buzz of several dozen microphones, hidden within layers of the cast's clothing. All eyes are fixed center stage, waiting, wondering. Someone rustles a playbill; several rows back, another coughs. Backstage, we wait for our cue with bated breath.

The piano utters its first resonating note, and it's showtime.
Opening night, with its intangible mystique, is the crux of my lifelong love for the stage. In creating a character, I deconstruct my own inner workings. In hitting a note I long thought out of my range, I am empowered to try other impossibilities. In crying along with RENT, I feel the immense weight that theater can hold when done well. It has so much left to teach me, and I am so ready to learn.

Sec. School Interruption:

I decided to graduate as a junior from my (very small) Maine high school in order to further explore my foremost passion, equestrianism. As a lifelong rider living in a tiny community, I found that I had very limited opportunities to learn, compete, and network. After much communication and an extensive interview - which involved a three-day "audition" - I was offered a place as a working student in Olympian Phyllis Dawson's Team Windchase. Accomplishing this was one of my proudest moments - to be considered good enough to be a member of an Olympian's repertoire of staff is an incredible honor. I had never before seen horses, facilities, or riders of the caliber I encountered at Windchase.

Beyond the intense daily training I received, four other girls (all in their twenties) and I worked up to sixteen-hour days, doing jobs ranging from routine maintenance of the animals and stable, training young horses, assisting the veterinarian and farrier, birthing foals, and countless other assignments.

As the youngest in a team of five, and living away from home for the first time (an eight-hundred mile move), I often struggled to maintain the cool and calm composure I displayed outwardly. I was terribly homesick for the first three months, and it took some time to prove to my coworkers that I wasn't just a young and naïve high-school student. It would have been easy to pack it in and move home, giving the whole thing up as unsuccessful, but being there was a dream that I'd held onto since I was fourteen. Beyond that, I was quickly climbing the ranks in competition, meeting and networking with internationally renowned professionals, and gaining confidence in myself and my abilities which has certainly had an effect on all my other endeavors.

I emerged from the eight-month adventure a much more poised individual, harboring a more intrinsic understanding of what I need to do to be who I want to be. I welcome the next challenge with open arms, knowing that both the highs and the lows will shape me even more. Doubting myself, or my dreams, is not in my modus operandi; I will work as hard as I need to to achieve them. Gaining acceptance to a great school is my next Windchase.

Thank you! I will gladly return the favor if you'd like. :)

Undergraduate / My Common App essay - going to Princeton, Yale, Williams, Tufts, et al. [6]

This is my Common App essay - the "other topic." As you can see, I'm very metaphor-happy! I'm working on trimming it down - particularly parts of the second paragraph, which I feel isn't hugely necessary, and a little whiny. I do NOT want to come across as whiny, haha! :) Any critiques would be MUCH appreciated! Thank you!!! :D

When I first came out of the box, I wasn't any different than the others. That's how they make us, you see - black and white; indistinguishable. We are merely canvas and rubber shells; lifeless casings with insignia emblazoned on our sides, proclamations of "All Stars" presupposing an illustrious future. Our soles are unscuffed, our laces, unfrayed. We are perfect, but we are all the same. It is those moments, days, and years after we leave our boxes that we start to really become. I suppose the same can be said for people; the fabric varies a little but each one is cut from the same pattern - two eyes, a nose, and a mouth stitched seamlessly onto a head, attached to a body. Their laces - the lifelines that bind them together - aren't outwardly visible, but they are there. Rather than cotton, they are made of emotions, experiences, memories, passion, pain, fear, and love.

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