Undergraduate / Essay on my own novel, creativity, and physics [5]

OK so any help will be appreciated. Does the point go across satisfactorily? Can i do anything to improve it? Please help, I'm kind of desperate, the deadline is (OMG) TOMORROW !!

I revel in the thrill of being teased by the plot of a story. For me, the more convoluted the plot, the better. To be left so mystified by all complexities of a novel - the interconnections between seemingly unrelated characters, personal agendas of every character, twists, and misleading hints - that all you can do is submissively follow the story to its end for the answers you now crave - this is one of my greatest joys, for only in such brilliant compositions is the power of the arts - of creativity - truly manifest.

So one can easily imagine the potent passions the most labyrinthine mystery in the world evokes in me. The amalgam of subplots worked into the epic story of the universe itself - the hundred-over elements; their myriad compounds; the forces that keep the world from falling apart, sometimes even without contact; the random dance of particles we can't even see; and so forth - defies any apparent order, and yet order emerges, slowly but surely. The world is my mystery novel, and I want to be one of the detectives out to solve it. I want to be a physicist.

Despite the dichotomy between the arts and sciences firmly entrenched in my society, whenever I stop, stand still and let the mundane evaporate away, I can't help sensing behind art and science a tangible unity.

This unity has played a pivotal part in my life. At age ten, I started writing a story. Into it, I started pouring my own physics hypotheses and masked them, as in the stories I loved, under the most convoluted of plots. Today, after endless character makeovers, after losing all my work twice in computer crashes, and after the ritualistic cramming in of new subplots with every leap in my knowledge of physics, I'm the proud owner of the finished manuscript of "Sortilege", my very own science-fiction-fantasy novel. I'm happy that in this process, I was lucky enough to discover the unity of the arts and sciences, and to celebrate it.

However, my celebrations have only just begun. I hope my next stop on the road to celebrating this unity in all its aspects is the study of physics. I feel I can be an atypical, yet successful, physicist. Just as I got the arts and sciences to complement one another in my book, I think that I can enrich our knowledge of physics, too, using the arts - creativity in particular. Creativity, the ability to look at things with a different perspective, can yield the elusive questions that will lead to the right answers. We know that every scientific revolution is grounded in counter-intuitive - creative - ideas. I feel I can supply more of those ideas.

I'm glad that I've found my favorite story on the pages of the universe, and the best part is that the ending hasn't been written yet. I hope I, as a detective in this epic mystery, am able to solve its puzzles with a bit of my own flavor: creativity.

Please reply ASAP!!!!

Undergraduate / What I Did When I Ran Away From Home [7]

Hi, this is my second draft, and I hope I can get some harsh but constructive criticism from you guys. i'll be glad to rate your essays in return.

It's at 899 words now, but I want to cut down to 750. And it does need some polishing too. Please suggest what modifications I could make to those ends.

Essay prompt #1: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.

What I Did When I Ran Away From Home

To my memory, my decision to run from home was the first I ever made without thinking twice. As a result, I cherish the night that followed not so much for that expression of teenage contumacy as for the impulsiveness of that expression. That night, I learnt an important lesson that has, in many ways, proved to be a useful rule-of-thumb: sometimes, it's better not to look before you leap.

I have always been adventurous at heart - it's just that I don't get to have as many adventures as I'd like, owing to the presence in my head of the all-powerful Cautioner, whose sentences always begin with "What if?" Yet here I was, having given in to my impulse to take a solitary step away from home. All alone, with just a bicycle to shrink the roads and add to my heady sense of infinite opportunity, I could've done anything. The night seemed tailor-made for me: an offer of endless adventure for the adventure-starved. Despite this, I found myself drawn away from it all, headed instead to the unlikeliest place - my alma mater, St. John's High School. Yes, I really did run away from home - to school.

I was at once struck by the surreal beauty of the campus, embellished as it was with wreaths of fog and the milky discharge of floodlights. As I walked the corridors, sweet memories from a trove eleven years deep returned afresh, reminding me of the reasons why I loved my school so much: a reminiscence here of Principal Brother D'Abreu dropping me home himself when I'd missed my bus, a recollection there of an alumnus, in keeping with Johnian tradition, bringing his newly-wed to our oldest teacher, Mrs. Pandarwani, for her blessing - all highlighting the fundamentally inessential - but in St. John's, inevitable - bonds forged between teachers and students. The memory of the petition that we, as eighth graders, signed and dispatched to Principal Cheema, entreating her not to shuffle our classes the next year, bore testament to the strength of the friendships I had cemented within these walls. Interacting with the economically backward students who received free education and breakfast in St. John's, I learnt that we differed not in our aspirations, but in the number of obstacles we must clear before we achieve them. St. John's encouraged us to join the Make Poverty History campaign, and through it, I learnt to be giving. So when Principal Cheema told me, during an interview, that her priority was not to ensure the best national examination results, but to give to the world honorable citizens, I knew her claim was not empty.

Ruminating thus atop the school's rooftop that remarkable night, something even more remarkable happened - in a serendipitous catharsis, I composed my first-ever song, "The Eagle", dedicated to the institution that had truly made Eagles out of the little eaglets we had begun as. What was most remarkable, however, was the fact that I had discovered this gift for St. John's only once my endless hunt for it had put me on the street. Indeed, determined to repay the enormous debt of love and nurture that I owed to my school, I had squandered away such a great chunk of my time in tenth grade - the last year in St. John's - looking for inspiration instead of studying, that my father had engaged me in an argument that culminated with my impulsive departure from home.

That night helped me grow as a person in many ways. For one, it repaired - and even strengthened - my relationship with my father, ironical as it may seem. For when I described the night's events to my father, instead of being angry, he told me that he was proud of how much I loved my school, and of the fact that I had grown into a whole person rather than a geek.

Moreover, my realization that I could write songs that others actually liked opened new vistas for me. My dream of presenting St. John's a perfect farewell gift was fulfilled when my composition of "The Eagle" spurred our school band to release our debut music album that year. Soon, my songs became my all-weather companions, my works of art in whose creation I found fulfillment. I discovered the power of creativity in its expression of emotions (which, if otherwise expressed in words, might seem impolite or overt) and I acquired a deep conviction in it, a conviction that forms a vital facet of my person.

Above all, that night taught me the value of taking risks. I could've locked myself in my room, suffered days of not talking with my father, lost a precious stroke of inspiration for my song, and forfeited a memorable experience, but I'm glad I didn't. I've learnt that occasionally, when we face a choice between what we want and what is safe, taking the road "less traveled by" can be the better option. I've learnt not to dither over choices, and today, I'm not afraid to silence the Cautioner if he becomes too antagonistic, or to confidently make a grab for an adventure when it comes my way.

Running from home to school may not sound like an adventure to many, but to me, it will always be an adventure - into my own person - and I'm glad that when the time came to make a grab for it, I didn't pause to think.