Undergraduate / "To pursue a redeemed life of intellect: the how and why" UC Statement Prompt1 [5]

This (hopefully!) is nearly my final version.
Any feedback will be eternally appreciated!

"Describe the world you come from - for example, your family, community or school - and tell us how your world has shaped your dreams and aspirations."

Just to note, the UC Admissions have made it clear that they do not want any creative writing, whatsoever, and the Personal Statement is NOT an essay; rather, it is to give context for the application and help the school get to know you. "Be reflective, open, and persuasive. Use concrete examples," they instruct on the UC webpage.

'Hearts Adaptive Riding Program' (for special needs riders) 'Mr. Borden' and 'Rosewood' (a residential program for eating disorders) are all explained in the Application's Additional Comments section.

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From early adolescence, I refuted the lull of the mainstream to seek a deeper education and diversified intellect, furthering a future devoted to understanding the human mind and utilizing literary expression.

Though my earliest memories I recall a deep level of introspection, it was not until the age of fourteen I began my self-aware development and hunt for identity. Following the shock of my own psychosis grew an innate intrigue for the complexities of the human mind, and my steadfast passion intimately rooted. In the fall of my sophomore year, I indulged in my intrinsic curiosity as a volunteer at Hearts Adaptive Riding Program, astounded and thrilled with my interactions and work with the riders; I came their uncommonly brilliant minds, astonished by the impossible kindness of so stigmatized a demographic. Throughout the following years I accepted the role as babysitter to Christina, a two-year-younger disabled sister of a former classmate. While both rewards greatly profited my future, the priceless value of experience and insight into the intricacies of a handicapped mind far outweighed the monetary compensation. Christina showed me the capacious human spectrum stretching from unconditional love to immediate acrimony, though more particularly fired my fascination with disabled psychology.

I cherished these relationships and my empirical scholarship, yet have found a greater passion and personal significance in the mentally ill; specifically resultant from my years of therapy in coincidence with psychology courses. I began therapy in ignorance and without intention; I entered the sessions dismissing them as useless conversation while I danced around my closely-guarded roots of insecurity and self-hate. Painful as it was, I ultimately began to slowly submit to my toxic issues, thus investigating my mental processes, tendencies, distortions, and the pathology of my downfall. With health came not only my re-fed cognitive function but also an ingrown inspiration to switch client-therapist lenses; after a major surpassing of my inhibitions, I now aspire to study and someday serve the same clinical psychotherapy that I received. My own pivotal psychotherapy work as patient continues to support my well-being and development as an ambitious individual, and I hope in rewarding profession to do at least this much for others.

I have since matriculated to absolute fulfillment in three psychology courses, where I interweave my heuristic experience and theoretical education. Yet my imaginative and expressive nature is fulfilled through my second passion of literature and composition, a study and art I pursue with the same zeal. Indeed, I was not always so competent a writer; in fact, I nearly scoff in retrospect at my freshman compositions. Thus I was surprisedly delighted when the English department chair and thirty-two-year faculty member, Mr. Borden discreetly summoned me to meet at lunch in response to my first essay of the year. His praise that afternoon extended to both my mother and school counselor, but most importantly drove my newfound literary ambition and began his nonpareil mentorship. Both his acclaim and my writing flourished throughout the year, even through daily letters and journals whilst subdued at Rosewood. Today I embrace and indulge in my talent regularly, particularly releasing memories, pains, confusions, and playfully expressing the otherwise trapped of my thoughts through my Creative Writing course at the City College.

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Wreak your critique, I'm all ears.!
Thank you.

Undergraduate / 'After anorexia, self-harm, and through continual intensive treatment' UC Prompt2 [5]

I'm down to fine-tuning my final version of my UC Personal Statement for Prompt 2. It is currently unreviewed aside from my mother.
(if you've seen this before... I apologize; I previously pasted the incorrect prompt)
Any feedback will be eternally appreciated!

Prompt 2: "Tell us about a personal quality, talent, accomplishment, contribution or experience that is important to you. What about this quality or accomplishment makes you proud, and how does it relate to the person you are?"

Just to note, the UC Admissions have made it clear that they do not want any creative writing, whatsoever, and the Personal Statement is NOT an essay; rather, it is to give context for the application and help the school get to know you. "Be reflective, open, and persuasive. Use concrete examples," they instruct on the UC webpage.

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Beyond my war with anorexia, self-harm, and through continual intensive treatment, I have matured immensely and assuredly created a stabilizing purpose for living and thriving in pursuit of a redeemed, prosperous future.

Various therapists and Rosewood's treatment team did not simply work extensively with me purely to ensure a healthy future; in retrospect, the main focus was to understand the roots of my numbing and self-deprecating tendencies and ultimately reclaim vitality while seeking an understanding of recovery as the better choice.

The ongoing process of realizing recovery began first with my mental and physical corruption; I was deepest in the refuge of my eating disorder and self-harm to numbly function in my routine labyrinth of loneliness. After the inevitable intervention, I experienced with my fellow patients in the challenge of treatment a mutual compassion beyond previous comprehension: our shared inexplicable poignancy of being, unparalleled support and intimate quarters brought us impossibly close, and we grew as a genuine, alternatively incomparable family. Our diversity was broad yet binding, and stretched from worldly and wealthy Ali, 17, of London, to twelve-year-old schizophrenic Emily of Virginia. From these special kinships I have grown to appreciate the preciousness of companionship and through devoted outpatient work I further realized my suffocating, reclusive mental filters of reality and their power for social separation. Today my bonds in this enduring family are carried through continual communication and a planned reunion, while new relationships are built deeply and openly at both work and school. Previously, I had dismissed potential friendships on initial judgement; now I see beyond these common trivialities and appreciate each stage of character on both the intimate and daily level.

This contrived-turned-authentic change in perspective was simply one maturation of many; in contrast to my initial belligerent unwillingness to Rosewood's program, I learnt also a cohesive openness. Without the comforts of home, family, electronics and control, importance was significantly redefined: my appreciations shifted to focally encompass the strength of interpersonal bond and support, unrequited love, our occasional ethereal sunsets, a shared laugh, even ten minutes of a warm shower. I have since nurtured my pivotal, receptive adaptability for such alternative ideas and crave for my personal diversity of knowledge and experience to strengthen my organic, self-sustaining values.

Perhaps the greatest of improvements was the least concrete, in fact a cumulative product of the others - my personal establishment of self contentness and awareness, achieved through identifying and pursuing my passions and talents, and answering the fortifying love that continues to fill daily and personal life. My resilience is undying, and anorexia fits nowhere in my future: with the same perseverance that once pushed me to the edge of death, I am driven.

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Wreak your critique, I'm always all ears!
Thanks forever.

Undergraduate / "Every facet..." - Why Northwestern? - Avoiding repetition? [4]

Prompt: What are the unique qualities of Northwestern - and of the specific undergraduate school to which you are applying - that make you want to attend the University? In what ways do you hope to take advantage of the qualities you have identified?

I was worried any answers I would give would simply be repetitive of all others... so tell me what you think of this:

I prefer not to group myself with the masses. Of course, as irony will have it, neither do many - and it is with that same 25,369 'many' applicants that I share a common allure to Northwestern. We are individuals. We want for ourselves and we search for ourselves and we find Northwestern for ourselves.

Every facet of Northwestern is exciting - from the terrific research opportunities to the fantastic freshman seminars. Who wouldn't crave such options? But it is never just the opportunities themselves. Northwestern's website will explain every benefit of the university. The Weinberg College section particularly lays out nine reasons 'and counting' to choose Weinberg. But the purpose is what I will do with these reasons.

There are extensive curriculum choices and small class sizes and the finest administration and the thrill of the windy city. There is community involvement and the chance to travel the world.

Yet given the privilege, this is all a choice - a selection I have already made. And while I will embrace every aspect of Northwestern, I do not want this only for myself. I want to be a part of the progressive Northwestern community, the many of individuals.

With top-ranked professors and highly respected academic departments, Northwestern provides the ideal education for the passionate and motivated. It is with such outstanding instruction and inspiration that my potential will not only unfold, but thrive.

All responses are much appreciated.

Undergraduate / NYU Short Answer - James Joyce, Jambalaya and Passion [5]

All responses are deeply appreciated.
Let me know what you think; there's a 500 word limit, and I was more or less caught between craft of composition and actual depth of content.

Please tell us what led you to select both your anticipated academic area(s) of study and the NYU school / college / program or the Abu Dhabi campus. What interests you most about your intended discipline? Mention any extracurricular or non-school-related activities or experiences that demonstrate your interest.

As dozens of journals, notebooks, letters and text files will reveal, writing has been my pursuit. Be it fiction or otherwise, composing emotions, cares, concerns, and all else into literary form evokes a fulfillment no other field and few hobbies can parallel.

Psychology, however, is a focus driven by my innate interest for others. With age I've grown increasingly fascinated by human nature, while my own former psychosis particularly drove my love for the study and empathy for the mentally ill.

Seclusion is one of my greatest fears. I cringe at the thought of living in ignorance, so naturally I crave diversity. I want to experience and empathize and learn broadly.

Luckily I have little to fret over. In the jambalaya of NY's melting pot live both the trial and empirical lessons of diversification; NYU accompanies such enlightenment with opportunities to progress one's knowledge and prowess in the vast context of the world.

I'm going to college to learn, but the lessons merely begin at the desk.

I could read his biography. I could read five of his biographies or I could skim James Joyce's Wikipedia entry.
But I want his words. No company could parallel Joyce's own; I would meet the remarkable mind myself.
It's a one-wish sort of thing, and I wouldn't waste it. I'd indulge. In reality, I can make my own fate. If I want to deeply enough, I will.

So we'd dip into one of my dreams, the kind so impossibly perfect all you can want is to share it with someone.

Thank you! I'll try to help out with some of your essays as well.

Undergraduate / How to Smile - Evaluate a significant experience CommonApp [4]

All responses are greatly appreciated. I'll look over your essay in return!
Thank you.

Prompt: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.

They asked me to smile. I offered a lame facade of cheer; my ages-scowled face had nothing left to stretch. Behind my tightened lips and swollen eyes hid an awful fear. I did not want to smile. But I was terrified.

Translucent skin and city-mapped veins illuminated as they flashed the photo in their usual admission routine. I would meet the picture again, months later, pounds heavier, pasted in the file that held daily records of my treatment at Rosewood Ranch Center for Eating Disorders.

Life behind the whimsical wrought-iron gate began as pure hell. A prison. Emotions arose within me I never knew existed. One marked night I screamed and sobbed for two hours straight, longing for my family with a deep and primal anguish. I swore and kicked and refused to eat. I demanded discharge.

I'm fine. I don't have a problem. I'll eat. Just get me out of here.
Denial is the first step.
I would reject every one of their words. Their beliefs meant nothing to me. They were the messed-up psychotics.

Trust came with great difficulty. I had no choice but to finally comply, and soon enough the prison became my home, the patients, my family. In our intimate quarters and poignancy of being, we came to love one another like we never knew possible. Though we shared the same tragic infection of eating disorders, our makeshift family was broadly diverse, and stretched from wealthy Ali, 17, of London, to fourteen-year-old schizophrenic Emily of Virginia. Many were the type I would previously reject on initial judgment; since childhood I was less than a natural at making friends, but our swelling compassion gave reason to friendship and proved my ignorant criticism. I grew to cherish the raw facets of each personality, and acquired an appreciation for even Chelsea - our indubitably crazed ten-year-bulimic who checked herself out the minute she turned eighteen. Yes, she was a witch, but a brilliant one, with a fantastic - if entirely abrasive - spunk.

Each night, we would curse our disorders with intangible 'thorns' of hate, one by one, after the day's final snack. We might damn the food too. But we would always award the theoretical roses to each other. Hundreds of them.

And just as many to the nurses and technicians - well, most of them. Rosewood's technicians became far more than round-the-clock supervisors, and in fact grew as tender mentors and genuine companions. Dearest Chrissy and Aaron particularly served as both treasured friends and surrogate parent figures; they soon stood as my aspiring model for health and happiness. They had troubles of their own; unfaithful spouses sabotaged their respective marriages. They felt pain just as well. But their laughs were true, their love, deep. They ate and they cared and they moved on and I could too.

These are the people I will never forget. Nor will I fail what they have taught me; it is to them I accredit my continuing strength. Who began as my self-labeled 'messed-up psychotic' therapist incomparably helped renew my life, and it is because of his and others' influence that I now aspire to study the same psychological foundations of both my corruption and treatment.

I am not certain I could have made it through Rosewood without the support of patients and technicians in my unworldly despair. But it is not worth wondering about, because now I am sure I could. I have grown stronger in bone and blood and brain but also in heart. I have learnt my flaws and tendencies, my processes and pathology - yet this would not matter if I had not learnt to care. I thrive now on my passions with a new sort of hunger; writing expresses personal emotion with progressive insight, while psychology satisfies my intrinsic curiosity of the human mind. My relationships feed my re-grown heart just as well; I grew to appreciate the preciousness of companionship from my support at Rosewood and have carried the value to my present and long-standing relationships. Loneliness was my tragic downfall one too many times, but a blurring of the line between family and friends ensures my contentment and fends the now distant menace.

I came to Rosewood lifeless after years of silent but incessant self-deprecation. My anorexia had become my sole and greatest joy; it was a tranquilizer from the stress of reality and a fulfilled competency when my being was merely mediocre. So extending the same regard for my own self was perhaps the most difficult yet greatest of my developments through treatment. In fact a cumulative product of the others, my self-awareness takes now habitual and introspective account of my life and well-being. Sometimes I will not enjoy what I see. This is okay. Worse has happened, perhaps the worst will come. But I will evolve.

Post-dinner we would cradle our bloated tummies and settle into our usual positions on the Great Room's leather couches. This was writing time. In my leather journal and prolific letters my writing flourished, documenting progress in both script and health.

Wednesday was yoga. Friday was tai chi and Sunday was spirituality and Tuesday was drum circle with Pam when I'd thrash moleskin until my fingers were bone-white and arms beyond sore and had abandoned all thoughts of calories and BMI and my unachieved perfection.

Ten minutes each day we were granted conditional and monitored phone usage. Jan collected cell phones and all cash at admission. Computers and iPods - the great withdrawal devices - were unthought of. Importance was entirely redefined; I lived for our occasional ethereal sunsets, our brief but potent daily walk, a shared laugh, even ten minutes of a warm shower. Preciousness and poignancy invaded my life. Everything was delicate and everything is delicate still. Yes, the numbness of living near-dead is perfect escapism. But now I have seen health and toyed with purpose and have chosen to join the world outside of my mind.

With the same perseverance that once pushed me to the edge of death, I am driven.