Undergraduate / Rice Perspective Essay - elderly tennis stars. [6]

This prompt confused me a little, so I'd like to know if I'm answering the question fully. And I'd really appreciate constructive criticism on this, thank you for taking a look!

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? (Most applicants are able to respond successfully in two to three double-spaced pages.)

---
I feel trapped in a state of hazy yellow this Sunday morning. As I trail bleary-eyed behind my mother onto the tennis court, I gaze up at the clouds lethargically drifting by. The sky has a soft lemon glow to it, one that provokes an escape back under the covers, not hours of athletic exertions and sweat. Through the drowsy veil over my eyes, I peer curiously at the strangers arranged against the chain-link fence and smile to myself. Perhaps I'll get rest after all; my mother's tennis friends would seem more at home indoors playing bingo than outside on the court. The buttery morning light diffuses across their hunched figures, highlights the wrinkles in their skin, and, if anything, only adds to their gentle elderly appearance.

As we arrange ourselves for a doubles match, I relax my muscles and prepare myself for a leisurely rally. My "opponents" will surely tire soon. I only hope they will have enough energy left for their afternoon naps. Nestling into the golden embrace of the morning, I let my eyelids droop halfway back into sweet repose, but a different yellow haze soon fills my vision. It appears to be... coming closer?

Suddenly, a serve rockets past my head at an impossible speed, leaving a stream of neon tennis-ball fuzz in its wake. Eyes jolted open, I stare blankly at the culprit, a man old enough to be my grandfather. His cheeky grin seems to tell me, no, this is not a game to take lightly. We're here to play.

Every Sunday since then, I've rolled out of bed and slapped myself awake for the challenge to come. Ron's killer serve clears the net only half of the time, but even without the advantage of surprise, it requires my undivided attention. I fear my arm bones may never stop wobbling from the impact, but there's no time to recuperate. Doris slices the ball across the court, while Barry continues glaring from the net through his polarized sunglasses. He says it unnerves people. And it does.

I suppose it is a little strange seeing us tear up the court. Our multi-generational group has the upper end of the spectrum well represented, but I am the only player under fifty. Although I do have a slight advantage with sprinting, they are the clear winners in dedication and passion, playing each week despite the fact that almost all wear knee or elbow braces. These seniors continue to destroy my preconceptions of senile sexagenarians, Sunday after Sunday, and though they have certainly given me many energizing games, they've also given me something else - a perspective unclouded by a haze of set expectations, one that is instead open to all possibilities.

Throughout my life, Sunday tennis being no exception, I've found that people tend to surpass the limits we set for them in our minds. First impressions are often wrong, as Ron, Barry, and Doris have shown me. With the random distribution in Rice's Residential College System, I fully expect to be surprised by my peers, as contradictory as that may sound. I don't know who I will meet in the future, but I'm ready to receive each new person with open arms. Instead of filing people under categories based on just one aspect of their identity, whether it be age or ethnicity or major, I plan on letting my fellow students show me who they are and what they can do. My new tennis friends sure did. After all, I do like a good surprise, as long as it's not zipping past my head at eighty miles an hour.

Undergraduate / Common Application essay + short answer: [ a spelling bee and artistry.] [5]

[ common app essay prompt. ] -- ah, so I really don't know what other people would think about this. I was a little concerned after reading that you should avoid writing about events too far back. I'd really appreciate any opinions!

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

There was wordlust in my eyes. Driven by a hunger for new and exotic vocabulary, I pestered my family to feed me word after word, and I tore each apart letter by letter with an unbridled voracity. In the weeks before the Delaware state spelling bee, I planned to bulk up on words as much as humanly possible.

Spelling bees are extreme examples of Darwin's "survival of the fittest" theory. In order to make the cut, a contestant must have extraordinary dedication and stamina. Dedication comes first, the sheer devotion to a skill made nearly obsolete by technology; stamina comes later, the ability to continue poring down spelling lists even after exhaustion sways the letters to and fro in one's vision. I thought I possessed both qualities, and even one more - an innate love of words. I have always been fascinated by words, ever since the day I learned to spell "chrysanthemum" in second grade.

Four grades later, I still harbored a special fondness for sesquipedalian words, enraptured by the lull of their many syllables. They were the life of the etymological party, so to say, and I needed their excitement in my hours of studying. I feasted heartily on words like "connoisseur" and "chauffeur," noting the double letters, the bane of my spelling existence. At the age of eleven, I could boast that I knew not only what a klipspringer was, but how to spell it too. On the other hand, I nonchalantly tossed away the scraps, the mundane words of everyday language. "Believe" and "neighbor?" Please. The English language contains more words than any single person could learn in a lifetime; there was simply no time for run of the mill, sixth-grade vocabulary.

Finally, my time had come. The morning of the bee, I felt well rested, catching sunbeams in my open mouth with a drowsy yawn. Fifteen minutes before the start of the bee, my head was still tilted regally in self-assurance as I filed onto the stage with the others and took my seat. Only a few minutes later, however, I was trembling, and it seemed inexplicable to me. My mother, father, and little sister sat in the dim auditorium, confident they had prepared me well. I had devoured scores upon scores of luscious words, so why did my stomach feel so queasy?

I walked into the lights.

"Your word is 'permanent,'" said the announcer.

"Permanent." I traced the letters out on the podium. I hadn't studied this, but it was an easy enough word, a mere appetizer for what would come.

"P-e-r-m-a-n... a-n-t. Permanent."

"Is that a-n-t?" clarified the announcer. I nodded.

My sister buried her head in the nook of my mom's arm. Did the lights on the stage suddenly seem brighter, harsher? I barely heard the announcer speak, but I sensed the sympathy in his words. In a daze, I watched as the rest of the participants took their turn, subsequently taking their seats permanently just as I had-all but the winner. The embarrassment and shock of my mistake didn't hit hard until later. My family offered words of consolation, but rings of red still encircled my sister's eyes. I had messed up on the most basic word, one I had pretentiously overlooked. It's almost ironic that this single word has had such a lasting impact on me. Challenging myself with the hardest of subjects or the longest of words has its place, but it means nothing without a grasp of the fundamentals. An unbalanced diet of knowledge only leads to future stomach aches. I would know; it's written on my brain in Sharpie.

[ 602 words ]
-----

[ common app short answer. ] -- I had a lot of trouble with this one. It feels dry to me... I think part of that is because I like telling narratives, and I used up my word limit only to explain things. I'm still over by 15 words, so I'd love some harsh critique on this.

150 words or less: In the space provided below, please elaborate on one of your activities (extracurricular, personal activities, or work experience).

When I discovered that I could sell my digital artwork online, what started as a passion evolved into a passionate side job. My freelancing business perfectly married my artistic desires for improvement and my hopes to earn some money.

As with any marriage, commitment was key. With an expectant buyer at the other end of the transaction, not only was a timely delivery essential, but a dedication to quality was also. Fine-tuning my Photoshop skills took hours of practice, supplemented by both self-reflection and critique from fellow artists.

Still, thriving in an online market required an entirely new skill set. A need for ardent self-promotion conflicted with my humble, even self-deprecating, tendencies, but interacting with appreciative customers gave me a renewed sense of pride in my work. Each piece was as much for the buyer as it was for me, and now when I look back at that art, I don't think of the price I was paid. I only see the progress I've made.

[165 words]

Thank you for looking! (:

Undergraduate / Engineering, an Artist - Critique my UVA Supplement essays? [7]

Ah, so I just finished two essays for the University of Virginia, and I've love some fine-tuning or even general comments on ideas I should add/remove. I really want to know if they make sense, and if they would tell the admissions officer enough about me!

[ prompt 1 ]
We are looking for passionate students to join our diverse community of scholars, researchers, and artists. Answer the question that corresponds to the school you selected above. Limit your answer to a half page or roughly 250 words.

Engineering: Discuss experiences that led you to choose an engineering education at U.Va. and the role that scientific curiosity plays in your life.

Splitting up Ampere's Law into four separate integrals to determine the magnetic field around a solenoid - easy, right? Each new problem my physics teacher introduces seems like an unsurpassable monolith to me, but they are nothing to him. With masterful strokes, he chips away at them with logic and basic equations until a solution presents itself from the rubble. I am always thoroughly intrigued by how the simple concepts he uses can solve such seemingly complex problems. Sitting at home, I struggle to figure out the same types of questions my teacher so elegantly solves in class, even armed with the same standard arsenal of equations.

But that's the beauty of a eureka moment. After long attempts at a problem, when it feels as if vectors of frustration are jabbing my gray matter into submission, I close my eyes. With time, the throbbing in my mind invariably subsides to clarity, and I wake up from my physics-induced coma with a start. Upon discovering a new angle to the problem, a rush of adrenaline courses through my body, and I quickly scribble down my thoughts. Suddenly, all of the elements fall into place. Eureka!

It is the sheer nerdy ecstasy of finding solutions that draws me to engineering. Presented with any problem, whether a textbook question or a real-world situation, I feel a relentless urge to find the answer. Even if I fail, each failure brings a new opportunity to learn. The University of Virginia's biomedical engineering program drew me in through its sheer dedication to integrating undergraduate research and design in both engineering and medicine, but after I chanced upon a collection of posters about discoveries made by the department, I knew I had to be part of a future team. The name of this series of posters?

"Eureka!"

(299 words)

(276 words)

[ prompt 2 ]
Answer one of the following questions in a half page or roughly 250 words:
Discuss something you secretly like but pretend not to, or vice versa.

My mother pulls up into the Home Depot parking lot, and I shudder at the disproportionate number of heavy-duty trucks in the spaces around me. I feel as if I'm entering an alternate dimension reeking of elbow grease, whereas my natural universe revolves around dainty watercolor brushes.

Trudging past the automatic doors, I drag my shoes on the slate-gray concrete floors while my mother urges me to walk faster. As a proud member of the female gender, I should turn up my nose at the endless rows of hardware, gag at the atmosphere of unfettered virility, and run screaming in the opposite direction, but something about Home Depot fascinates me.

It's beautiful.

Even out of my comfort zone, I tend to view the world around me as an artist. Home Depot serves as an unlikely muse, stocked with vast arrays of forms and surfaces. As we pass doorknobs and two-by-fours, I consider how to capture textures of metal and wood in graphite on paper. Walking past a display of paint cards, I quickly slip a few swatches of color into my pocket to paste in my sketchbook later for inspiration. I may not show any love for Home Depot's wares, but I still secretly appreciate the everyday beauty hidden behind its rugged veneer.

(213 words)

I'd be happy to read over your essays in return, although I'll be leaving my computer now for a bit. Thank you!