Undergraduate / "Youth Tutors of Greensboro" - Common App- chose "other" essay option [7]

It's too long, but I know I can whittle it down probably another hundred words if I need to. But what do you think? This was really the only way I felt like I could expand on this topic on my common application or on the supplements in the kind of depth that I wanted to. Let me know your opinion! Thanks

Some people are talkers. Some people are drawers. And some people are readers. That's me. I'm a reader. If you put a good book in my hands, you're golden. Literature has been my sanctuary in which to escape from the chaos of a dysfunctional family, and it has given me the key to my own imagination, taking me on wild trips to the park with Mary Poppins and crazy adventures inside an over-sized peach with young James. As a child, I was snobby with literature. A good book was my good book, and any stranger who read it was trying to steal my bond with the characters. It was really only during my high school years that I figured out how lucky I've been in my love affair with books, and how many kids have yet to meet the right title and fall in love. After having this humble realization, I decided to do something about it. And so begins the tale of the Storybook Festival.

Youth Tutors of Greensboro, an organization I launched in my junior year, had completed a successful semester of tutoring. I began to wonder how, in the midst of math and critical reading analysis, we were instilling a love of reading in our children. In our fierce determination to raise test scores and provide mentors, we hadn't been focusing on the great commonality that brought all of us together in the first place: our love of delving into a good book. I spent my summer meeting with Jenny Caviness, Greensboro Youth Council's adult supervisor, discussing a festival that would get kids excited about literature. I began to realize that I had the power to make this event as explosive or as quaint as I imagined. I knew this was my opportunity to transform my idea into reality.

Planning an event for YTG was overwhelming- the volunteers, materials, and money that were required were staggering. I applied for a grant from the Greensboro Teen Grantmaking Council and received 2,000 dollars to fund the event. Jenny described a GYC fall festival called "Ghoulash" in which we could have a trial run and see how my idea played out. I decided to have YTG host a room at the event and work out the kinks before our spring Storybook Festival. We've chosen a Harry Potter theme, given that the final movie premieres in November, and we'll have a number of games and activities to excite kids about the series. Harry Potter books will be given away as prizes, and our volunteers will be decked out in costumes. This is our chance to get our name out to parents and students so that our spring event can be better publicized.

The Storybook Festival is unquestionably the high point of my high school career. It is the daydream that filled my days of lifeguarding at the pool, and the thought that brings me out of any teenage funk threatening to kidnap my motivation. I can envision the festival so clearly. As soon as a kid walks through the doors of the Cultural Arts Center, he will wonder if he's entered another world. To his left, Adventureland beckons him, with the fantasy and thrill of Narnia and Treasure Island calling him to come and dress up as a knight or pirate and gather round to hear stories of faraway places and daring deeds. To his right, the sights and sounds of the Animal Kingdom capture his attention. A monkey from the Natural Science Center is shaking hands, and he can get his face painted as a cheetah or lion and watch puppets act out The Jungle Book. He walks down the decorated hallway and enters the Sports Arena, with games such as table-soccer and football. Hula hoop competitions are in one corner, and stories of exciting mountain climbs and thrilling water sports are read aloud. After experiencing the magic of the themed rooms, he wants to own and read the titles featured, but he doesn't know where to find them. The answer looms in front of him- a Scholastic Book Fair. He can pick out books to his heart's content, and a portion of the profits will go towards the YTG fund so he can come again next year. He leaves with a goodie bag and his mind lost in a newly enlarged imagination.

The idea of having other people experience something that has existed solely in my mind for so long is terrifying, yet exciting. My mom says that a child who doesn't love to read just hasn't found the right book yet, and I think she's right. The festival is reaching out to every elementary school in Guilford County, and since I am ensuring that it becomes an annual event in the community, children can look forward to it every year to rekindle their love and vigor for reading. I think I've successfully grown out of my literature-snob days. Now what brings me pure happiness isn't keeping my books a secret for my own enjoyment, but rather watching a child's face light up while reading one of my favorite stories for the first time and knowing that I helped to create the atmosphere that made it possible.

Undergraduate / "... so just bear with me" - Stanford letter to roommate [7]

Dear Roommate,

There's no better time than the present to start apologizing for the future, so here goes. I'm sorry about my family. My father will try too hard to befriend you, and trust me, I don't expect you to remember the names of my parents, step-parents, four younger stepsiblings, and three older brothers. You should probably remember my dog Tucker's name though, since photos of him will be plastered all over our walls. I'm terribly sorry for my awful memory. I will lose my keys and get locked out at the most inconvenient times, and you will grumblingly (and graciously!) let me in. Also, I'm sorry about the Swedish fish that you'll find casually scattered all over our dorm. Eventually, after finding Swedish fish in random pages of your textbooks, under your pillow, and inside your shoes, you will accept their presence. I just really hope you're not allergic to them. I apologize for my insane piles of books that will transform our dorm into a library. You can borrow any you like, and I'm a rare reader who doesn't mind dog-earring the pages! Oh, roommate, let me warn you now, I have a strange incapacity to take the "am/pm" setting into consideration. I'm so sorry for all the times I distract your routine with my Spice Girls wake up song. It must be terrible for you. I'm sorry if my Salvador Dali paintings seem like walking nightmares. Granted, they take some getting used to, but I bet that by the end of this year, you will love his weird chicken-like elephants and enflamed giraffes just as much as I do! If I lose that bet, we can discuss some sort of revenge on me. Dear roommate, I am sorry that I will insist upon telling you my dream right after we wake up. Sometimes they're really weird and involve characters from Harry Potter, so just bear with me. (I don't know how to end it succinctly because I can't go over in characters!)

Undergraduate / "expressing my true self to strangers" - Stanford intellectually engaged essay [4]

It needs to be slightly shorter, but I really just want to know if it's too cheesy.

The confessional was extremely odd. Sandwiched between the baubles of Elsewhere's collaborative museum, it looked straight out of a Catholic Church. It was my first trip to Elsewhere, where random objects and structures were used by artists from all over the world. It was a "living" museum, so visitors were encouraged to mess with the items. Elsewhere fascinated me, but I wasn't sure how to act around the artsy, alternative folks that hung around. I was out of my element, and I worried that I would seem pretentious or snobby since I was so unlike them. I walked toward the confessional, easily the strangest thing in the room. The curtain revealed a small bench under a dim bulb. In front of the bench was a worn journal, filled with the scrawls of many writers. I sat down and followed the written directions to "disappear behind the curtain." In the journal were secrets, desires, confessions. Every person before me had held the pen that I grasped and had written down the essence of themselves in a few lines. Some entries were as simple as "I wish I could buy my own house," and others revealed more, like "the love of my life isn't really the love of my life at all." Reading through the pages, I grew uncomfortable. The idea of writing down a bit of my essence seemed daunting and terrifying. If it had been a math problem or reading analysis question, I would've known had to handle the situation. This was a kind of intellectual challenge in which I had little experience: expressing my true self to strangers. I put down the pen and sat back in the little chair. Before giving up, I closed my eyes and left my insecurities behind to just breathe. I suddenly became aware of the moth-eaten scent of the curtains. I felt the wooden seat sway under its thousandth occupant. I saw the dim light press against the backs of my eyelids, and I heard the faint laughter drifting from another room. For a moment I became a part of that confessional, a part of every previous confessor. I forgot my fears, opened my eyes, and looked at the journal, feeling my pulse quicken with heightened clarity. My hand found the pen and I wrote "I am not afraid" on a crinkled page near the back of the journal.

Undergraduate / Stanford Intellectually Engaged Essay- "Delving into Dali and Disney" [6]

I can divide my life into Disney and Post-Disney phases. The classic flow of aesthetic imagery in Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty was a central part of my childhood imagination and kept me satisfied in a comfortable world of predictable outcomes. As I grew older, I left that world to experience art forms that made me question Disney's obvious path. The works of Salvador Dali were the most striking of these forms. His use of absurd, iconic images in a dark and unforgettable style of the impossible shocked and intrigued me. When I heard of the film "Destino," by both Disney and Dali, my initial thought was "Why?" Why combine the simplistic clarity of Disney with the strange, revolutionary ideas of Dali? I found my answer in the masterpiece that is "Destino." The film is a story of lovers in an ever-changing dreamlike landscape while the melancholic elements of time and space conspire against them. A brief vignette of human yearnings, it shows the sad human condition in a visual love poem. The artists' strengths are apparent from the description. Disney thrives in the magic of love, while Dali delves into elements that tear the lovers apart. The characters are attractive, a staple in Disney films, but the appearance of clown-like tortoises and grotesque eyeballs screams Dali's influence. I couldn't stop watching. While Disney and Dali were combining their unique talents, I was combining the child and young adult within me for a complete sensual and intellectual experience. At first I desired a happy ending for the two, but I was soon captivated by the idea of an impossible love, forever suspended in time. Without this film, I never would have believed in a collaboration of the two artists without each sticking out like a sore thumb. "Destino" harmoniously fused the visual powerhouses in a way that enabled me to re-experience a childhood hero while appealing to my love of artistic boundary-breaking.

It's roughly 100 characters too long, but I know I can get it smaller. What do you think?