Undergraduate / 'A Wave of Cardboard' - my college common app [6]

So this is my rough draft for my essay for the common application, which unfortunately is due tomorrow. I know, I know, I'm a world class procrastinator. But I spent all weekend on this and would really like some feedback on it other than my mother's who insists, "It's great honey!" Not very helpful Mom. So tell me what you think, be honest, I can take it.

The prompt I was going for would either be evaluate a significant experience in your life and its impact on you, or a topic of your choice.

A Wave of Cardboard

There to greet me as I stumble through the door is an ocean of cardboard boxes that now blankets what I once called home. Their monochromatic color has taken my house hostage and painted the walls with its melancholy hue. Yet this scene surprises me in no way, it's one I have come to be familiar with over the years. As my eyes are drawn to this massive ocean of cardboard, a wave of emotion washes over me. I am drenched from head to toe with the feeling of déjŕ vu; my clothes soaked through with the memories of long forgotten friends and empty white walls, of oversized U-Haul trucks and curious stares. My life in no way first the stereotypic mold of the average American family. Suburban homes and white picket fences take way to camouflaged uniforms and cardboard boxes.

As I rummage through our garage I unearth ancient photo albums hidden in the crevices of unpacked boxes. Each album bearing the name of some far away base in a hardly recognizable town scribble across the cover in fading sharpie. Who knew what once was considered to be my life could be so easily forgotten, remembered only on the dusty pages of snapshot filled albums. I open the most recent addition to our ever growing collection and a sharp pain emerges from the depths of my stomach as I'm confronted with a 5x7 of my best friend and I, our faces glistening with chlorinated water, smiling at sun burnt pool goers. My other friend is behind the camera taking the picture as we're both blissfully unaware, too busy being caught up in the sounds of splashing water and the warmth of the summer's sun on our tanned skin. At the turn of each page he pain grows more and more unbearable until I am forced to close the life that is no longer mine and return it to its home in the dark crevices amidst the lonely cardboard boxes.

People are always astonished to hear of my unconventional childhood. "You seem so normal", they exclaim. Most can hardly imagine what it would be like to live on ten different bases, call a dozen different houses home and walk the halls of three different high schools. I can barely fabricate the words as I rack my brain for a response. Hard, but rewarding, I generally conclude. My life is filled with agonizing goodbyes, awkward hellos and remarkable friendships that inevitably crumble under the weight of a wave of cardboard. All the lost friends, forgotten memories and fading pictures are packed neatly into boxes and sealed with tape to be shipped to places across the world, places most people only get the chance to see on television. Despite the hurricane of difficulty the ocean of cardboard may generate, more often than not, a wave of amazing opportunity will find its way to my door and sweep me off my feet, reminding me why it's all worthwhile.

Thanks guys!

Undergraduate / UVA Supplement "Mmm, Mmm good!" [4]

Hey guys! So I'm applying to UVa which is a pretty competitive school so I want to make sure my supplement essay is top notch. Keep in mind this is literally my first draft and I'm open to any and all critisicms, thoughts and suggestions. I need your help guys! Oh, here's the prompt...

College of Arts and Sciences: What work of art, music, science, mathematics, or literature has surprised, unsettled, or challenged you, and in what way?

Mmm, Mmm Good
I've never considered myself to be one of those dreadlock donned, beret wearing, coffee drinking, bearded, type of artists. The kind that can look at a painting of a daffodil and discern the meaning of life hidden within its brushstrokes. So you can imagine my bewilderment as I suddenly found myself surrounded on either side by a crowd of these self proclaimed, beret clad artists conversing about the deeper meaning of Andy Warhol's Campbell's soup painting. As I stood there with Warhol's cans staring me in the face and the never ending stream of the contemplating artists' unfamiliar jargon clouding my every thought, I began to wonder if I was missing something. What were these people seeing that I wasn't? How were they getting "critical social issues of consumerism" out of these soup cans when all that my brain was capable of producing was a broken record of "Campbell's soup...It's so Mmm, Mmm, good!"

The longer I stood in front of that painting the more frustrated I became at my lack of deep, artistic understanding that seemed to come so easily to those supercilious artists standing next to me twirling their beards. Maybe it was their berets. Either way, it felt as if they were all in on some confidential secret that I was dying to unearth. I decided I was left with no other choice. The next thing I knew I was halfway to the beret shop, desperately trying to reclaim my title as an artist. Just then, an unbeknownst force stopped me in my tracks as I had one of those dramatic flashbacks you see in the movies. I was back in my eighth grade art classroom with Mr. Christiansen standing over my shoulder, watching me as I carefully applied the finishing touches to my painting of a purple elephant. "Why is it purple?" he would ask. "Just because", was my well thought out reply. That's when he said something I had forgotten until that moment, standing frustrated in the middle of the sidewalk, halfway to the beret shop, "Artists don't always know why they do some things, that's what the critics are for." And then it dawned on me; why, those beret wearing coffee sippers weren't even artists! They were nothing more than a bunch of conceited, over analyzing critics trying to make me feel as if I was missing something. I promptly turned around and marched right back into that gallery, stood in front of Warhol's soup cans and gave my own deep, artistic opinion on the work, "Man, that guy sure liked soup."

Undergraduate / 'Facebook - What kind of person had I turned into?' - Common App Personal [6]

Hey Guys! This is one of my choices for my common app essay. This is completely the first rough, rough draft. But i would appreciate it if you read through it and told me what you think of it. Tell me if you find any errors too! Thanks

My guidance counselor has told me, numerous times, that the essays are a crucial part of the college application; they let the admission officers get a sense of who you are. As I sat down to write this essay I looked at my computer screen and sighed. I had Microsoft word open in one window and Zuckerburg's wretched creation in another. Like most teenagers, I find myself spending a good portion of my time on facebook. It sucks me in like a vacuum and makes it nearly impossible to escape. It has mercy on no one, sweeping its powerful wrath on anyone who dares enter its deceiving blue and white walls. Facebook is the reason I stayed up until one in the morning last Tuesday writing my AP government essay instead of sleeping. Facebook is the reason my mother diagnosed me as a professional procrastinator because I seem to always be studying my friends status updates instead of my AP literature book. Facebook is the reason I have turned into a groggy eyed, caffeine addict that walks the halls as a sleep deprived zombie. I hate facebook. While updating my status about how much I hate facebook, oh the irony, I realized that if someone wanted to know who I was, all they needed to do was visit my profile. All of my interests, hobbies, relationships, friends, groups, events, pictures, likes, opinions and beliefs are all conviently located on one single web page that is easily accessible to anyone with a computer. That's when I seriously started questioning why I was even bothering to take the time to meticulously write out everything about myself on my application when all I had to do was send you guys a friend request. Because technically, it's the same concept right? That's also when I started questioning my sanity. What kind of person had I turned into? Was I really that susceptible to the typical teenage stereotype that I had become so lazy as to spend my time on facebook instead filling out the application that would determine my future? But my news feed told me I wasn't alone. Dozens of my fellow procrastinating seniors' walls were plastered with statuses of how they really should get on that application, or threats from their parents to log off or they would end up working at McDonalds for the rest of their lives. It surprises me how much the world has changed in the past couple of decades. How we could all go from payphones and message machines to having our lives consumed by a single website that we just can't get away from.

I cant figure out how to end it just right, any suggestions?

Undergraduate / A Jungle of thought - UVA supplement [3]

Hey guys! The prompt is what is your favorite place to get lost in? roughly 250 words. Edit and comments please!

The world slips from underneath my feet as I feel myself being transported to a place far away from the stresses and worries of reality. Still conscious, but not completely aware of my surroundings, I involuntarily venture into the vast jungle of my inner thoughts. In this jungle lies every aspiration I have ever hoped for come true, every wish I have ever wanted granted and every desire I have ever craved turned reality. There is no better place to wander aimlessly around than the boundless, infinite world of my daydreams. It always happens suddenly, without my noticing. One minute I will be stuck on a calculus problem and the next I will be stumbling over the limbs of my fanciful thoughts and delirious scenarios that make up the wistful jungle of my mind. Amongst the bushels of vegetation, green with imagination, lay delicate transparent webs of thought, so intricately woven and connected, as if made of the most stunning of lace. Each strand containing a new and exciting rumination, a profoundly brilliant revelation. These webs that lay deep within the vast jungle are where I nestle myself and escape. The winds carry me far away from any remnants of reality, any fragments of stress, until they are nothing more than dots scattered on the ground below. Before I know it I have drifted off into the distance, floating amongst the clouds, not a clue where I am or where I'm going; content and blissful, lost in thought.

Undergraduate / 'where professors cared' - Why UChicago? [4]

I wrote this kind of last minute and I would appreciate any criticism or editing porfavor! thank you guys!
The prompt is...How does the University of Chicago, as you know it now, satisfy your desire for a particular kind of learning, community, and future? Please address with some specificity your own wishes and how they relate to UChicago.

It's the middle of summer and I'm trying my best to avoid the growing pile of glossy college brochures that have taken my desk hostage. Despite my best efforts, no amount of chlorine or lemonade could drown out my mother's constant nagging. Reluctantly, I make my way to the intimidating pile. Call it fate or destiny, or whatever you like, but sitting on top of this massive Mount Everest of college papers lay a clean white envelope with bold, red letters written across it; the University of Chicago. Our encounter was just too perfect. After coming across one big party school after another, all dominated by football and Greek life, I knew that type of generic college experience wasn't for me. When it came down to it, I knew exactly what type of school I wanted to call home for the next four years. As I was nonchalantly flipping through UChicago's brochure, not expecting anything much, I carelessly licked Cheeto residue off of my fingers. If only I had known that this was the one glossy brochure that I would be meticulously studying, I might have taken more care in cleaning the orange off. For as I stared in awe at the University of Chicago's enticing pages, I couldn't help but notice the wit, the in your face honesty, the interest that jumped off of every page, glowing in comparison to the dozens of others. Time after time, I kept going back to that clean white envelope, until eventually I couldn't make out the words underneath the layers of orange fingerprints. I knew almost instantaneously that UChicago and I were meant for each other.

Having visited Chicago last summer, I already knew all the city had to offer. Going to college in a place brimming with beautiful architecture, endless opportunities and an amazing art scene was just the cherry on top. After learning all I could from my orange covered brochure, I began to research more extensively. I knew I wanted to major in English literature or art. Not only did UChicago offer both of those, but was renowned in them as well, offering in depth courses with small, intimate class sizes. It was just too good to be true. Besides the amazing location, brilliant architecture and outstanding academic reputation, one thing drew me into the university that stood out amongst the crowd; the passion. I wanted, I needed a place where my creativity and passion could thrive; a place where I would be surrounded by people who were just as passionate about learning as I was. From a young age my parents had instilled in me the importance of education and learning, which over time evolved into a lifelong passion that has become a very important part of myself. I needed a place where the professors cared, where I would be given the freedom of mind to think outside the box and explore my passions for writing and art. I knew that UChicago did more than fill those desires; it threw away everything I thought I knew about the college experience and left me wanting nothing else but to call its inspiring buildings and passion filled campus home.

Undergraduate / 'I love how inspiring you are' - My love letter to Reed. [3]

Hi there guys! I know this is a little last minute, but this is my draft for my Why Reed? essay. I know its a little wacky and weird..but its due in a couple of days so any criticism, comments, suggestions or revisions are appreciated... actually more like needed, so have at it! thanks

Dear Reed,

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love your individuality, the trait that drew me in to being with. Hook, line and sinker. I love that you will allow e to be myself, unabashedly. I love how I know you won't judge me, but embrace all of my quirkiness, my dorkiness and my just plain weirdness. And I will always do the same for you.

I love how we've never met, but I just know, deep down, that we are meant for each other. I love knowing how much fun were going to have sitting in your basement together, eating Nutella out of the jar while debating the merits of Thucydides and Herodotus.

I love your dedication to education, and not only education but the art of learning as well. I love how your passion for intellectualism and curiosity perfectly matches up with mine, like tow lost puzzle pieces united by chance. I love how you can appreciate my desire to learn, just for learning's sake.

I love the fact that you live in Oregon, that you call one of the most interesting and weirdest cities in the country home. I love how, even though we parted ways a year ago, I will be able to revisit one of my favorites places in the world, Portland. I love how I will be able, once again, to roam amongst the knickknack lined streets of the Saturday market, inhale the smell of thousands of books at Powell's, and stand in line at Voodoo Doughnuts for one of those sinful, maple bacon delights. I love how the "I heart Oregon" sticker on the back of my car will no longer be a bewildering, foreign object to those who see it, but a declaration of a shared love for one of the nation's most awesome states.

I love your passion, your intensity for life and for academics. And I love knowing that, even 3,000 miles away, I'm going to feel at home walking, or possibly skipping, across your tree lined campus. I love the fact that I might have the privilege of being a part of a community as weird, as passionate and as intellectually driven as those that reside at Reed, the ones that call themselves the Reedies; a title I would wear proudly, and might even embroider onto a scarf or pillow and prance around the house in, not that I already do that anyway...

I love knowing that I am going to be surrounded by amazing professors who care and who I can develop close relationships with and learn incredulous ideas from. I love how oddly excited I get when I think about all the ridiculous, yet enlightening discussions and arguments over nothing and over everything that I'm going to have with amazing peers while doing the most quotidian of things.

I love how inspiring you are. I love how I know my passions for art and writing will take on wings and soar with the help of Reed's encouraging community and atmosphere. I love how I will be able to take them to the next level and be given amazing opportunities with which to learn, experience and utilize my talents and passions at Reed. I love knowing that at Reed, I will be given the freedom to be myself surrounded by other creative and enthusiastic people doing the same.

I love going to sleep at night, envisioning our lives together. Imagining all the awesome memories and experiences we will take on together, the challenges we will face and overcome, and the amazing people that will be met along the way. This is me, putting it all on the line; declaring my undying love for you. I know it's a stupid, hopeless, delirious kind of love that can only happen to a teenager. I know that I'm still young and still have a lot to learn, but I think we can grow together and learn from each other. I only hope you don't think of me as a stalker and accept me for all I have given you. I will anxiously wait the day your letter will arrive in my mailbox. Farewell until then, my dear.

Yours lovingly,