Undergraduate / A stepping stone: Transfer Student for the Common Application (Emerson College) [6]

Hi all!

I'm looking to transfer to Emerson College next semester and would love any tips, advice, or edits for my Common App essay.

**Please provide a statement (250 words minimum) that addresses your reasons for transferring and the objectives you hope to achieve.**

When I applied to the University of Vermont, I was intrigued by the school's film department, but was not entirely certain that I wanted to major in film. It was a perfect school in which to test the waters, so to speak. I entered my freshman year, like many, as undecided. At orientation I picked my classes, and made sure to register for a film course. Of the options available, I ended up selecting a video production class, titled Introduction to Media. To this day, that course, with Professor and filmmaker Theodore Lyman, was one of the best courses that I have taken in my educational career.

Throughout my childhood, my friends and I would make short films in our free time, but we knew very little of what we were doing. So, then, I was in a state of euphoria when I was enrolled in my first production class. To learn all of the different camera movements, tricks of the trade, and proper methods to convey a story or an emotion was revelatory for me. About half way through the semester, I absolutely knew that I wanted to continue working in the medium, and officially declared my major as Film and Television Studies. I was not yet aware of how much I overlooked the "studies" portion of the title.

For the next two semesters of my college career, I registered for classes on the history of film, and the theory behind it. While these offerings were certainly intriguing, and intellectually stimulating, I was rather disappointed that I did not have the option to put this new found knowledge into practice. I understood that a solid base education in theory and history was necessary, but the fact that UVM only offered a handful of production classes was quite discouraging. Even hands-on camerawork in the future was not certain.

This is, far and away, my greatest reason for wanting to transfer. I want that exhilarating feeling that production and creativity instills in me, a feeling that the University of Vermont cannot consistently provide. The film department at UVM is undoubtedly amazing for what it is. It is crammed full of overwhelmingly knowledgeable professors and interesting subject matter, yet it just does not satisfy my particular desires. Even so, I owe my continuing love of film, in part, to UVM for helping to rekindle my passion for such creativity.

This is a passion I know that Emerson College can continuously infuse within me. Although it was a great challenge for me to choose a college out of high school, it was not at all hard for me to select a college to transfer to. While a structured background in the history, and theory, of film is still required, I know for certain that I will have my hands on a camera in due time. Emerson's program is organized in such a way that sets the student up with a concrete, liberal arts base, and allows them to reflect that foundation in future creative endeavors.

Additionally, the fact that Emerson's film program completely immerses the student in the medium is a huge draw for me. At UVM, there are very few classes offered by the department, so even if I were to solely take film courses, I would not have enough credits per semester. At Emerson, I know this will not be a problem. With the amount, and quality, of courses offered, I am sure that I will receive a diverse and fulfilling education, and make professional, and personal, contacts that I would not have the opportunity to make otherwise.

Networking is most assuredly a large part of the industry, and I am positive that this will be simple to do. While many of the professors in Vermont are wonderfully talented and intelligent, very few of them have connection to the industry itself, since most of them are film or English scholars. Given that Emerson is in a city such as Boston, I imagine that contacts abound, and are generally unproblematic to make.

In retrospect, enrolling at the University of Vermont may, at a glance, seem like a mistake. However, I do not see it as a misstep. Rather, I see UVM as a stepping-stone for sorting out my career goals, and a necessary step at that. If not for UVM, I may never have solidified my desire to pursue a profession in the film industry. Moreover, I would not have a model of comparison for what I truly want in a school. Just like the age-old adage of, "You cannot have good without bad," I could not have realized the positive and negative aspects of a college program without experiencing both. Discovering what I was not so fond of at UVM played an essential role in determining what I love most about Emerson College.

Thanks in advance!!

Undergraduate / NYU Supplement: Famous New Yorker, Poem, 2050 Movie, and Program Choice [3]

Hey everyone! I'm applying to NYU as a transfer student and need some advice on the supplement. There are 4 sections that are 500 characters each, and I'm not entirely confident about what I have so far. I would sincerely appreciate any help! Thanks!

If you had the opportunity to spend one day in New York City with a famous New Yorker, who would it be and what would you do? (Your New Yorker can be anyone -past or present, fictional or nonfictional - who is commonly associated with New York City; they do not necessarily have to have been born and raised in New York.)

Charlie Kaufman is certainly one of the most original writers and filmmakers in existence, exploring the mind and the unflinching complexities of life. I would want him to show me his version of New York-the city through his unique set of eyes. We would go to his spots and I would ask him to comment on each. I would love for him to show me any locations from which he draws inspiration. In his favorite restaurant, our similar personalities would mesh in conversation about life and filmmaking.

Write a haiku, limerick, or short (eight lines or less) poem that best represents you.

A shivering, winter night.
Darkness covers all.
The path is not clear,
And the way cannot be found.
Yet a figure approaches,
A luminous glimmer.
Silently he emerges,
Flashlight in hand.

In the year 2050, a movie is being made of your life. Please tell us the name of your movie and briefly summarize the story line.

The Incredible, Edible Celluloid-In the year 2020 it is discovered that, when combined with a mysterious chemical, film is not only edible, but overwhelmingly delicious. Much like a fine wine, the older the film, the better the taste. Even film preservation societies are selling their valuable shares. A group of filmmakers, headed by (me), detests such a delicacy and organizes a system for the protection of these films. Will they stop the consumption, or will one taste get them hooked?

Please tell us what led you to select your anticipated academic program and/or NYU school/college, and what interests you most about your intended discipline.

I have always been a very visual learner. Concepts make much more sense to me if I am able to see them applied, instead of just written. More importantly, I am able to comprehend such concepts better if I, personally, am granted the ability to apply them. As a result, film has become my passion and is a perfect program for me. After receiving a thorough education in film history and theory, the student is prompted and encouraged to put that knowledge into practice, in their own unique way.

Undergraduate / Tisch Film Portfolio: Dramatic Essay [3]

Hey everyone! My application for NYU is due on Thursday (running out of time!!), and I am having a very difficult time trying to write the essay for my portfolio. Here is the prompt:

Dramatic Essay - Introduce yourself. Describe an unforgettable event in your life and how it changed your perception of yourself or the view of someone close to you. This event can be dramatic and/or comedic. The assignment may be written as a short story in the first person or as an essay.

I was wondering if this paper actually answers the prompt effectively, and if the subject is appropriate. If you have any corrections, comments, suggestions I would sincerely appreciate anything you have to say. Thank you very much!

I am still afraid of chairlifts.
It was a frigid winter day in Salt Lake City, and it was early morning, around five o'clock. My father was rounding up my cousins, my sister, and my uncle, and I was busy suiting up in snow gear. We ventured outside into the cold, in order to load the car with the proper equipment. When everyone was ready to go, we piled into the tan SUV and took off down the road.

The mountain, named Deer Valley, was enormous and was plastered with fresh powder from the night before. People swarmed the face of the mountain, looking like ants tumbling down an anthill. We parked the car, unloaded our gear, and bought our lift tickets. After making sure we all were properly dressed, my father told me to go with him, prompting the others to do whatever they wanted. I was nine years old at the time.

My father and I donned our skis, and we pushed ourselves to the nearest chairlift. The line was quite lengthy, but the lift was moving rather quickly. I had not been a skier for long, and the size of the mountain, coupled with the size and speed of the chairlift, was overwhelming, and very intimidating. While I told my dad about my worries, he assured me that I would be fine, and that it was not a big deal. My heart was beating in my throat, and I prayed the line would start moving slower.

After fifteen minutes, it was our turn to board the lift. This particular chair was a triple, seating my father, an additional skier, and myself. We approached the red line indicating where we should stand, as the chair swung around quickly, and the lift operator took hold of it to slow it down. We were on the lift, moving at a swift pace.

As we burst out of the station, my nostrils instantly froze, and my eyes began to water. I looked around at the tress, looked up at my father, and made the unfortunate mistake of looking down. We were being elevated even higher above the waves of skiers and fresh snowfall, the chair bouncing steadily in the wind. All I could concentrate on was my intense fear of heights, and every imaginable negative outcome of the situation. My father put his hand on my back, and patted me reassuringly. It only made me feel a little safer.

We were still ascending, sometimes raised much higher above the ground, sometimes much closer to the ground. I closed my eyes. The beautiful scenery was passing by, yet I could only think about the lift snapping from its wire support. My father and the random stranger were making small talk, as I tried to shake the feeling of vertigo that consumed me.

At long last, we reached the top of the mountain as signs that read, "Prepare to Unload, Ski Tips Up," came into view. I uneasily wriggled in my seat, trying to find the best, most efficient way to dismount the chair. As we sped into the stop, time slowed to a crawl, and I could only see the landing, nothing more.

The way the exit was laid out was intimidating. There was a steep slope once you were off the lift, and a complete ninety-degree drop off before the landing. On the other side, where the chairlifts headed back down the mountain, there was also a steep drop, but nowhere near as bad.

Time began to speed up again as we reached the platform, and I felt a little more confident in my ability to exit the lift. Just when we were supposed to stand up and unload, the unknown stranger, who was on my right side, extended his arm to steady himself, blocking me from standing and moving forward. My father, who was on my left side, noticed immediately, and while the unknown man exited safely, my father and I were swinging around the curve, being directed back down the mountain. My father grabbed my torso, and I shut my eyes tightly as we jumped from our seat.

We were falling. We were in the air, and I could feel time slowing again, slowing in the darkness of my eyelids, time encasing our sharp descent. All I could think about was how, on the entire ride up, I could only focus on the negative, not taking time to realize where I was, or how fortunate I was to be there. That ten minute ride could have been my last ten minutes; minutes only filled with fear and regret. The chairlift's descent became an accurate portrayal of my life; something I then vowed would never happen again.

In an instant, my perspective changed. Although I was scared, I felt comforted wrapped in my father's arms, being tightly held and protected. I felt the warmth of his protection, the assurance in his hands and, although it was only an instant, the security that he would provide me for the rest of my life. Most of all, I felt loved, loved by my father who would do anything to keep me safe. It was then, falling through the darkness, emptiness, and cold that I realized what love really is, and how important it is to protect it. The relationship of love to life was never more apparent to me. I have to hold on to people, places, and pleasures that I love with all my heart, with a firm grip and never let go, no matter the circumstances. The only way to love and be loved is to pay attention to the positive, not the negative.

From then on, I would meet people, try new things, be with my family, and find a profession that I would enjoy doing, keeping them as close to me as possible. Life goes by too fast to not cherish such things, to not do what you love, and to not be with people you love.

I am still afraid of chairlifts, but I try to make the best of them. I try not to focus on my fears, but instead I admire the view and take a moment to enjoy the beauty and wonder that envelops me. I snowboard now, and while I continue to hold reservations when it comes to boarding chairlifts, I take solace in the fact that I am doing something that I love, regardless of what it takes to do it. After all, the end of the lift always comes sooner than you think.

What happened after this incident is somewhat hazy, but I distinctly remember the last image I witnessed. As my eyes opened, I felt tears pour out of the newly opened floodgates. My father, although he was not crying, was clearly in pain. I was safe, and unharmed. I was lying on my side, still wrapped in my father's arms, watching as the medics came rushing toward us.