Undergraduate / 'only who I am' - common app essay "WHO I AM" [23]

just got rejected by Midd. It doesn't require any supplement essay and my score and ec are not that bad. So I think maybe there are some problems with my common app essay. Do I need to rewrite it and start with a new topic? Or just change something? Welcome any comments or suggestions. THANKS SO MUCH!

Topic of your own choice:

Describe myself

As I type these words, I'm thinking who would read them and whether this person would appreciate or despise me. People love me. People hate me. It's just "me", but the side of me, which each person prefers, differs. Some prefer the side when I participate in the honor science class, so concentrated as to forget about the time; some prefer the other one when I dance gently along the river bank while the breeze strokes my hair. However, I never try to cater to different tastes. It's just always who I am.

I feel I'm connected to this world, connected to where I was born and will belong to, connected to all people I know or not, and I love them all.

I'm a thousand winds that blow over the hills around my city, fiery as they in summer, harsh as they in winter; I love warmly, I hate deeply; I laugh for delight, I cry for melancholy. I believe in human beings' true feelings and passions, even though some souls are numb and some hearts are cold.

I'm the diamond glints on the snow on windows of muslin mosques and Christian churches; I'm the voices fading away from Tibetan chanting and Mongolian long tones. I live in a city which, hundreds of years ago, was originally set up by Han to separate other three nationalities in this area, Hui, Tibetan and Mongolian, preventing the danger to Han of their alliance. In the city now integrated with four nationalities, as a Christian Han, I grew up avoiding having pork before Muslins, turning prayer wheels to pray for good luck as Tibetans do, knowing how sacred fire means to Mongolians and waiting outside Buddhist temples while my family is inside worshiping. However, I always feel myself lucky rather than uncomfortable to live here, learning so many things that any people from any single culture might have no chance to know. And the most important thing I learn is to respect others, no matter what they believe or how they live.

I always cherish reading. How could the noisiness of streets, even compare to the heart-fluttering moment when Mr. Knightly said "my most beloved Emma"?

I appreciate science as the sun on ripened grain for its benefits brought to humans, but I also feel arts are like gentle autumn rains, necessary as a part of souls, to feel, to think, to express.

I was said to be impossible to realize my dreams three times. However, finally I made them all true. No matter what others call me, a hillbilly, because where I come from; a dreamer, because of my lofty ambitions, I never give up my dreams. I'm just a climber.

I enjoy recalling memories, reminding me every touching moment, but I also know that future is always the star which whispers to me, shining my way.

Some may love me. Some may hate me. But I was, am, and always will be only who I am, with miles to go.

Undergraduate / UPenn Supp-I'M JUST A STORY-TELLER(WHY ESSAY) [5]

This is my first draft. Any comments or suggestions are welcome.Thanks!
BTW: I use a kind of connection to connect each paragraph, does it feel strange or misleading, or hard to understand? I'm not so sure about my connection part.

THX again!

PROMPT:
Required for all applicants: Considering both the specific undergraduate school to which you are applying and the unique aspects of the University of Pennsylvania, what do you hope to learn from and contribute to the Penn community? (Please answer in one page, approximately 500 words.)

I'm just a story-teller, sitting beside the window of my home on an early morning. I close my eyes and lose myself in the fascination with and desire to attend the University of Pennsylvania. I picture myself wandering among book shelves and appreciating the mixed fragrance of coffee and old books.

I become a student reading a book about human rights in the Van Pelt Library and heading for my minor theater arts course next hour. Just got stimulated on my sociology lecture by inspiring ideas of the extraordinarily intellectual professor and peers, I intend to shape my idea into words. I hope that with my enthusiasm and eagerness in learning, my research could not only further my study but also offer an innovative thought to this field. Reading a paragraph about the elderly in the book, I start to envision myself at a hospital of Philadelphia with an old man.

I become a volunteer, hearing an old man telling his miserable story with members of the Center for Advocacy for Rights and Interests of the Elderly. Have volunteered many years with the elderly in high school, I could better understand their feelings of life and feel the fulfillment of "giving while living". I go downstairs to answer a call, during which a student tells me that she is willing to donate her hair to Lock of Love, for our activity making wigs for kids who lose their hair because of disease. Hearing the cheers on the other side of the phone, I start to imagine myself be one of the cheering people, getting more excited as Quakers win every score.

I become a reporter of the Daily Pennsylvania, cheering for Quakers on a soccer game and preparing to conduct an interview with a star player after the game. I check my schedule to make sure that I won't miss our Bloomers show tonight. Although it's my first time to act here, I believe that with my passion and performing experience, I will blend in quickly and give a great performance. Noticing that there is a bag of spicy cookies in my pocket, I start to envisage myself with my Indonesian roommate who gave me this, sharing a leisure time together.

I become an amateur cooker, about to join my friends and let them try my Kung Pao Chicken. My roommate is talking about her idea about a new book while a guy from Spain says he prefers the original Spanish version. Another Bulgarian friend who major in East Asia Study asks me to tell more about where I come from after she amazingly narrates some Bulgarian legends. Having a sip of tea, I start to remind the time when I was in home two years ago, sitting alone beside the window of my house on an early morning

I become just a story-teller, telling you a story in which there is a girl who finds her life in Penn, to learn, to think, to feel, to give, to grow.

Undergraduate / (Buddhist stories) Stanford Supp Essay---intellectual development"ancient arts" [6]

I took more than one day to think about what to write and this is what I got.This is my first draft. I'm not so sure whether I really answer the prompt. Can this experience and feeling called intellectual development? THX a lot!

Prompt: Stanford students reflect an intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development. 2000 characters

Along my way to Dunhuang were hundreds of miles of Gobi, a special name of cold desert in West China, which were covered by rocks rather than sands. Mogao Caves, containing some of the finest Buddhists art works throughout thousands of years, spans here along the ancient Silk Road. The caves seemed more mysterious and isolate when the sunset had already tinted the sky with yellowish brown

I've traveled to other famous ancient sites before, my experiences disappointed me: Tourist guides always pointed at some landscapes while telling some stories that are not necessarily true. For me, ancient arts mean beauty and long history, but bare deep meaning.

However, what I saw here shocked me. I felt myself falling in a dream which lasted for over a thousand years. In the dream, the cold color sculptures of Northern Wei demonstrated a fierce war; the large complete and detailed narrative" Pure Land" on the extensive murals on the caves showed brilliant scenes of Mahayana Buddhism, which reached its peak during Tang dynasty, also the apogee of Dunhuang arts; as we came to Yuan dynasty, the style of Buddhas became less lively as if they are telling the decadency.

No, the Mogao Caves is not died beauty; it is alive, for thousands of years. It was born with this culture, grew up during the tumult of wars, gained the most beauty as the best era came and aged with the time. Its life is built by countless artists, draftsman and workers, by their magnificent imaginations, sophisticated while skillful crafts, and persistence as well as determination under this harsh environment.

For me, it became more than about Buddhist stories, painting techniques, cultures or history; it is the soul inside of these ancient arts, the soul of generations of people who had lived on the same land as I do, the soul of the beauty detached from mortal life, the soul which has the supreme power to purify the world, to help the future generations feel their ancestors, to explore the deepest humanities.