Undergraduate / Stanford Undergrad Admissions - What matters to you and why? -- Trusting myself [8]

Prompt: What matters to you and why? (2000 character max.)

Hello (: My original essay was much longer, but to adhere to the maximum character count, I nearly halved it. I'm not sure if it is as cohesive and makes as much sense now as there are literally chunks missing. Please tell me what you think. Thank you!

At 5'2" and weighing 90 pounds, I was one of the most petite dancers performing, and it seemed I was destined to be one of the girls used as a flyer to be lifted into the air. Once suspended by a single leg, my other leg would transfer to the 2 rows of steps, formed by the hands of 10 girls, their arms fully extended and above their heads. The girls had to watch and follow my feet, so that when it came time for me to take a step, a hand would suddenly be there, holding my foot, acting as a stepping stone. But what if there wasn't a hand there when my foot was? I couldn't look down, as with dance, I had to make it look effortless and beautiful. I had to keep my chin up, twist my neck to face the audience, have a huge smile to mask my horror, point my toes and kick my knees, land properly, and get into position to join in the dance routine of 100 girls seamlessly. As my steps lingered, heavy with worry, I could hear their grunts of pain beneath me. I stepped, and there was only air. My leg plunged downward, and I fell to the ground, landing on my still-extended leg. Their voices of concern reinforced that I could trust them, and if it took a brutal fall to do it, so be it. Ignoring the pain, I got back up. But for the next few weeks, practice hardly improved.

On deck behind the curtains, I could feel the anticipation from the audience's voices. I told myself that I was light as a feather, that I was invincible, and no one in that audience was going to see me fall or even falter. Over 20' in the air, I delicately extended my arms outward, smiled at my audience, and sassily kicked like any true '20s flapper would.

After I learned to trust the girls when I fell on my leg, there was still something missing - a trust of another kind. If I did not have it, I would have been stuck, weighing down on the people relying on me, and life's stepping stones would prove to be too daunting. That day, I told myself to fly, and I did. What matters to me is trusting myself.

1994/2000 characters

Undergraduate / Rice University - contributional perspective about diversity [3]

I find this essay daunting, and I'm the one who wrote it. Help, please! I had a lot of trouble gathering my thoughts together and just trying to explain my perspective in general. I hope it's not nearly as confusing as it threatens to be. Thank you in advance! (: oh yea and I hope I don't come off as angry...

PROMPT: The quality of Rice's academic life and the Residential College System are heavily influenced by the unique life experiences and cultural traditions each student brings. What perspective do you feel that you will contribute to life at Rice? (no max.)

Every time I went back, I could feel their eyes on me, staring at me. I can still remember them - those two girls on their way to school in their pink uniforms outside the grocery store. Pointing at me, bending over each other to get a better look. "Ni kan," they would say, "Look." As if I couldn't understand them. The old man, with his dark skin and white hair, his hands behind his back, at the outdoor marketplace. I remember wondering how someone with so many years, so much wisdom, could even look at me like that. I'd stare right back at them, and they would only stare more, because now I was only giving them a better look. I couldn't understand it. Yes, I was different, but I was still them in every sense of the word. Just with a little something extra. I am Taiwanese and Scotsirish. I do not favor saying that I am half and half. I am just as much Taiwanese as I am Scotsirish, and might I ask, how can anyone really be half of something?

When I was younger, I looked more Caucasian that I do now. With my wispy golden brown curls, hazel green eyes, and lashes like a giraffe's, I hardly resembled a Taiwanese. I understand now why they would stare, especially in the '90s; a little girl walking the busy streets of Taipei with those looks was not something you'd see everyday. Vendors would often ask if I was "when shui," mixed blood. As commonplace a term as it is, this question always disturbed my mother and me. I was not a mixture of anything, a lucky combination, perhaps. Then they would go on to comment how my combined looks made me resemble a porcelain doll. How mush less human could they make me feel? I would lash back and yell, "I'm not a doll, I'm REAL!" I hated be looked upon with what I felt was a shallow interpretation of who I was. Emotions and naivety aside, "when shui" would always prompt me to imagine a milkshake, chocolate and vanilla swirled in a cup, forming a spiraling pattern of alternating dark and light tones. But this was not me. Perhaps it was mixed even more, so that it looked like an iced mocha. But now my components were unrecognizable. I'd think of the alternative, a milkshake, with half of the cup containing vanilla, and the other half containing chocolate, split right down the middle. This fragmentation was not me either. Finally, I imagined who I was, but in two cups, one with chocolate, one with vanilla. I could see both of my hands full with something to hold, rather than holding one thing in one hand.

I understand diversity. When you are a diverse individual, be it by ethnicity, life experience, or personal beliefs, those components that make you diverse do not get diced up or placed in a blender with the rest to result in a piece of this, a piece of that, and a mixture of this. Those components are whole components. I say this even if you are 1/26th Inuit, that is, if you fully understand and have been affected by your Inuit background.

I still get a little hyped up when I am back at home, at a party of unfamiliar Taiwanese people, that switch from speaking Mandarin or Taiwanese to English when they say hello to me, and only me. Sometimes I'd like to say, I am fluent in Mandarin just like you. I love to eat radish cakes just as much as you do. I love to argue about the difference in being Taiwanese than in being Chinese just as vehemently. And I know all about the Chinese, Dutch, Japanese, and Aboriginal influences that make Taiwan what is today, and I have witnessed these influences in my family. Honestly, I could know less than you and be allergic to radishes, and it still would not matter, because my full heart is in it. All this is true, even though, biologically, I am "less" Taiwanese than you.

I bring this perspective with me wherever I go, and I will bring it to Rice, as well. My passion for being recognized for who I am and not what "makes me up" transfers to my interactions with others. I have an appreciation for diversity like no other. When I meet someone, I have an utmost respect for their entire background. I strive to be as least ignorant as possible about people's cultures and life experiences, and I try to be as understanding and considerate human being as I can. For someone to say that I am only half Asian, "so that doesn't count" in whatever argument that causes my palm to go to my head, it conjures a fulfilling spark in me to make others realize what I realize about diversity. Does that mean that my experiences with my Taiwanese culture are only half as meaningful? How can I be "when shui" when mixing Taiwan and Ulster is like mixing oil and water? I am not an individual of mixed values; they are combined in me, each one standing out in its own right. I could be 1/4th Taiwanese, 1/4th Tanzanian, and 1/2 Sioux, and it would not matter. It is only when I tell someone that I am Taiwanese and they respond by saying "Oh, I love Thai food" that I am not sure where to begin.

Undergraduate / "hún xuč" - Contributional Perspective on Diversity (Rice University) [2]

PROMPT: The quality of Rice's academic life and the Residential College System are heavily influenced by the unique life experiences and cultural traditions each student brings. What perspective do you feel that you will contribute to life at Rice?

THANK YOU!

(i had some issues with verb-tense agreement, especially between the first and second paragraphs. Aside from the verb-tense agreement, any ideas on a transition between the two paragraphs?)

I am Taiwanese and Scots-Irish. I do not favor saying that I am half and half. I am just as much Taiwanese as I am Scots-Irish, and might I ask, how can anyone really be half of something? Are my values half as meaningful? Is there a line following my spine, so that I am red and navy with a white sun on the right, and green, white, orange, and blue, maybe with a hint of plaid and paisley, on the left?

Every time I went back to Taiwan, I could feel their eyes on me, staring at me. As little as I was, I can still remember them - the old man at the marketplace, those two girls on their way to school in their pink uniforms outside the grocery store, pointing at me, bending over to get a better look. "Ni kan," they would say, "Look." As if I couldn't understand them. I'd stare right back at them, and they would only stare more, because now I was only giving them a better look. I couldn't understand it. Yes, I was different, but I was still them in every sense of the word. Just with a little something extra.

When I was younger, I looked more like a Caucasian than I do now. With my little wisps of golden brown curls, bubbly hazel green eyes, and lashes like a giraffe's, I hardly resembled a Taiwanese. I understand now why they would stare, especially over a decade ago; a little girl walking the busy streets of Taipei with those looks was not something you would see everyday. Vendors would often ask if I was "hún xuè," mixed blood. As commonplace a term as it is, the question always disturbed my mother and me. I was not a mixture of anything , a lucky combination, perhaps. Then they would go on to comment how my Caucasian features and Asian cheekbones made me resemble a porcelain doll. "Hún xuè?" "Doll?" How mush less human could they make me feel? I would glance up and yell, "I'm not a doll, I'm REAL!" I disliked be looked upon with what I felt was a shallow interpretation of who I was. Emotions and naivety aside, "hún xuè" would always prompt me to imagine a milkshake, chocolate and vanilla swirled in a cup, forming a spiraling pattern of alternating dark and light tones. But this was not me. Perhaps it was mixed even more, so that it looked like an iced mocha. But now my components were unrecognizable. I'd think of the alternative, a milkshake, with half of the cup containing vanilla, and the other half containing chocolate, split right down the middle. This fragmentation was even farther than the me I thought myself to be. Finally, I imagined myself in two cups, one with chocolate, one with vanilla. I could see both of my hands full with something to hold, rather than holding one thing, in one hand.

When you are a diverse individual, be it by ethnicity, life experience, or personal beliefs, those components that make you diverse do not get diced up or placed in a blender to result in a piece of this, a piece of that, and a mixture of these. Those components are whole. I say this even if you are 1/26th Inuit and proud; the Inuit inside you is 26 twenty-sixths - one whole.

At a party of unfamiliar Taiwanese people it is common for them to switch from speaking Mandarin or Taiwanese to English when they are greeting me, and only me. I still get a little hyped up when they continue to do so even after I have responded in Mandarin. Sometimes I would like to say, "I am fluent in Mandarin just like you. I love to eat radish cakes just as much as you do. I love to argue about the difference in being Taiwanese and in being Chinese just as vehemently. And I know all about the Chinese, Dutch, Japanese, and Aboriginal influences that make Taiwan what it is today, and I have witnessed these influences in my family. On the other hand, I could know less than you and be allergic to radishes, and it still would not matter. Because my full heart is in it. All this is true, even though, biologically, I am 'less' Taiwanese than you."

I bring this perspective with me wherever I go, and I will bring it to Rice, as well. My passion for being recognized for whom I am and not how I am "made up" transfers to my interactions with others. When I meet someone, I have an utmost respect for their entire background. I strive to be as least ignorant as possible about people's cultures and life experiences. For someone to say that I am only half Asian, "so that doesn't count" in whatever argument, it causes my palm to go to my head - but only for a split second; It conjures a fulfilling spark in me to make others realize what I realize about diversity. That does not mean that I go on an angry rant about my identity. I see the importance of understanding each other. Imagine the state that our nation would be in if we had programs especially for studying the messages of the Quran and the traditions of the Afghani, Iraqi, and Iranian peoples? Imagine if it was then shared with our people. My point is not world peace. Rather, the changing of one's perspectives and one's sentiments through those of others' has the power to change the course of history. The possibilities are too precious to let them slip by. What is a Palestinian and an Israeli? Capitalist and Socialist? Viet and Hmong? Half of a Taiwanese? I will promote an atmosphere of understanding and mutual consideration at Rice, and who knows that such positive relationships can build?

So, as for me, what is a "hún xuè"? How can I be "hún xuè" when mixing Taiwan and Ulster is like mixing cotton candy and a lamp? ... What? ... Exactly! They are combined in me - not mixed; each one standing out in its own right. I could be one-quarter Tanzanian, one-half Sioux, and one-fourth Taiwanese, and the fractions would not matter. It is only when I tell someone that I am Taiwanese and they respond by saying "Oh, I love Thai food!" that I am not sure where to begin.

Undergraduate / 'overall entrepreneurial spirit' - Stanford -- Roommate prompt [3]

PROMPT: Virtually all of Standford's undergraduates live on campus. Write a note to your future roommate that reveals something about you of that will help your roommate -- and us -- know you better.

(currently 1996 characters out of 2000 max. long)

Hi, there. I have to say that I have been wondering who you would be since I was a young girl. It is finally that year -- 2012, and I am so excited to start my new life. I cannot wait for the adventures and trials that we will endure together in our dorm, especially those midterm all-nighters. I am an only child, which makes me value the relationships I develop with others even more. I have many conservative values, but if you do not, that only excites me more as I am always interested in hearing the other perspective.

Together, there is nothing that we cannot overcome. I am not afraid of anything. If there is a spider crawling on your mattress, I will gladly pick it up and set it free from its own horrific experience- no spider guts, please! I love to do yoga and I am fluent in American Sign Language, two things that calm my nerves. If you are stressing, I can show you some moves. I love sports and the outdoors, and I plan on joining the novice crew team, rock climbing, and training for a marathon. If you need an adventure, I'm your girl.

My favorite thing about Stanford is its overall entrepreneurial spirit. I want to be a sustainable business owner, and I look forward to getting some startups going while here. So, if you see a wall covered with whiteboards, tape, and scribbles of numbers, do not be alarmed; it's not another one of my art pieces, I am just keeping track of my pennies! Art is a very important part of who I am. I might hang some of O'Keeffe's, Basquiat's, or even my own work up. With regards to art, I hope that my taste in music will grow on you; It's a bit unusual. I love CocoRosie (sisters with beards!) and The Tallest Man on Earth (his voice cracks, but I love it!) and some clean rap. Amongst all of this, I am someone that you can count on. I know that we will have an amazing time together during the years to come. The most important thing to me in life is those whom I spend it with. So, tell me about yourself. By the way, I'm Jade.

Undergraduate / 'photo collages' - Stanford -- Intellectual Vitality Prompt [3]

PROMPT: Stanford students possess an intellectual vitality. Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual experience.

Right now it's 73 characters over the limit.

When my interviewer and future coach was more fascinated about my time in art school than about my math and science grades, I knew I was in for something unexpected. Why would a mechanical engineer from MIT want to know about my latest pieces? Surely this had nothing to do with robotics. But I described it to him as best I could. I told him that they were not just captured images, but photo collages with two- and three-dimensional designs made of overlapping masking tape. The tape was not just adhesive for the collage -- it framed and demanded attention to the individual photos, the design highlighting the tape's rough, yet supple qualities to mirror the rest. He must have seen something in me; I had made it on my school's competitive robotics team. Perhaps engineering would be my "thing."

Two months later, my manipulator design made us champions in all four competitions that season. The next season I designed the manipulator for our 220-pound robot that stood five feet and rose to be ten feet tall. It took me weeks to find the correct angle needed between the arm I was building and a piston (of inconveniently unknown length) which would act as the arm's triceps. The issue was that the "arm" had to be perfectly parallel to the ground at times and perfectly perpendicular at others. Many bloody fingers later, I won "Best Arm Design". I felt I could engineer anything. Today, I am co-captain, and since we will be hosting the upcoming World Championship, the demand for my leadership and our collective brainpower is greater than ever.

Over my years on the team, I realized that I did not want to be an engineer -- a valuable personal lesson learned early on. The curious seeker in me found that I could apply all the mental skills I gained from robotics for other matters in life, like solving global issues and developing the entrepreneur in me. My coach later told me that after MIT he decided to pursue the art of filmmaking. And I understood. Regardless of my career path, I am and always will be a problem-solver, innovator, and creator at heart.