Undergraduate / "my love for psychology" - Is my essay too objective? [6]

I've read quite a few "Why our college" essays, and I'm concerned that mine doesn't include clever anecdotes or anything.

I had signed up to take AP Psychology during my junior year, not knowing I was soon to stumble on a new passion. I love psychology because of its connection to real life. In each interaction that I have with someone, I see the opportunity to continually apply psychology ideas (I admit that I'd like the running script in my head to stop sometimes). As an introspective person, I am fascinated by cognitive science, especially metacognition. With metacognition, there are almost infinite answers to why one thinks the way they do, each derived from a different school of psychology. Psychology is an interdisciplinary field, in and of itself- You can take any situation and look at it from a hundred different perspectives, because there are so many variables to be examined.

Oberlin's strong neuroscience program will allow me the opportunity to increase the depth and breadth of my knowledge of the biological school of psychology. But at Oberlin, lecture halls aren't the only places where intellectual curiosity is fueled. Obies bring hands-on learning to the next level with incredible research opportunities!

The commitment to undergraduate research at Oberlin reflects the commitment of faculty to students. Professors thoroughly enjoy teaching, and Oberlin's small size fosters close, collaborative relationships between students and their dedicated professors. Small classes are also an ideal conduit for engaging discussions, which are crucial for a mind-broadening college experience. Oberlin's academic rigor, combined with its personal feel, means my college experience will be a phenomenal period of personal and intellectual growth.

I've only just discovered my love for psychology last year, and I'm eager to peruse Oberlin's course catalog to uncover even more interests. I plan on taking a class in anthropology, and I've made it a long-term goal of mine to become fluent in Spanish. Given my varied interests, I appreciate Oberlin's academic flexibility (ExCo and the Winter Term come to mind here). Who knows what I'll end up doing exactly? What I am certain of is that I'll go to unexpected places and discover new parts of me each time; I expect it of myself and I'd feel empowered by Oberlin's same expectation of me.

Academics aside, my other favorite aspect of Oberlin is the student body. Obies are smart, but also have passions outside the classroom. Their passions may be as varied and diverse as Oberlin's academic offerings, but everyone is passionate about something*. Obies are risk-takers, unafraid to challenge social norms, and unafraid of being pushed to new heights. They are quirky and caring, earning Oberlin its well-deserved reputation for being at the forefront of progressive activism. Where else would I be able to brag about attending a school that meets 50% of its electricity needs with sustainable energy sources?

Undergraduate / Eccentric, influential person essay or electricity-generating bike essay? [14]

I'm having trouble picking an essay for the Common App. Which one do you like better? Also, the first is a little over the word limit. If, as you're reading, you can pick out delete-able sentences, please let me know. :-) All other corrections are welcome, too. Thanks for reading!!!

Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.

Last September, Mr. Shimmon began leaping from the corner of one desk to another. Vault, spring off, vault, spring off. He gets two desks in two seconds. What other teacher would have put on a frenzied show to teach his students about the carefully calculated impulses of the body's neurological action potential?

From Day 1, I knew the class would inevitably instill in me a love of psychology. Yet, it wouldn't be until later that I would realize: Mr. Shimmon's inexhaustible passion for his work taught the most important lesson of all.

As a first-generation Chinese-American, I have always been taught to see education as a pre-professional experience. My parents preach practicality, periodically reminding me of the viability of a career in pharmacology. I don't accuse them of not wanting me to be happy and well-adjusted; it's the opposite. In their view, a well-paying job necessarily equates with happiness. It's understandable; my parents used to farm for a living and they want me to be financially secure.

My parents' ideals have helped me become the self-motivated and hard-working person I am today. But those qualities alone do not adequately define me. Mr. Shimmon's approach to education -not a contrasting approach, but a different one- has been necessary to imbue my sense of self with a love for open inquiry. Ever mindful that the educational process matters as much as the outcome, I continue on my path with a balance of pragmatism and love for learning.

At this age, I have infinitely more questions than answers. What will I major in? Will I ever reconnect with my childhood dream of being a part-time ballerina, part-time veterinarian, part-time astronaut? The most important question of all: Who will I be? I want the answer to be: a thoughtful, caring individual who approaches my life with passion, zest and the same amount of energy that Mr. Shimmon expended on that day in September.

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

I am a food snob. I like to grill my fresh figs, topping them off with sprinkles of brown sugar. But I cannot resist Cheeze-Its, ever. I enjoy psychology books; I also enjoy self-help books thinly veiled as psychology books. I love my beautiful city of San Francisco. I use humor in my Yelp.com reviews of my favorite places in San Francisco- Strawberry Hill in Golden Gate Park, Good Earth Cafe, and the SF Botanical Garden. For the longest time, I put off reviewing Cayuga Park, an unassuming gem, beautiful because of its obscurity. I love to sing, but I can't say I'm very good at it. I love whispering along with folk songs or belting musical numbers. I'm not too shy to sing to others, but I sometimes worry that their ears will fall off. It bothers me when people don't use both sides of a sheet of lined paper. We have a collective responsibility to choose the world we live in, and I wish more people assumed this responsibility. My favorite person on this planet told me that, as a young adult, he had contemplated starting a magazine to publish news of good deeds done by others. I thought this was a great idea. It makes me ineffably happy when people choose sometimes thankless jobs like teaching, because they know that unruly kindergartners can, and often do, become amazing adults. My friends tell me my taste in clothing is predictable and boring. If I am admitted to Tufts, you'll be able to tell me if they are right. I prefer having a couple of very close friends to having a large network of semi-close friends. I have a very long list of mockumentaries that I'd like to see. My second favorite person on this planet has been to New Zealand, India, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Guatamala, Ghana, Kenya, Tanzania, and Uganda. He majored in Sociology and claims Pangaea as his home. When he sent me an email about the sights and sounds of India in narrative style, the prose left me breathless. I think I'll start a travelogue of my own experiences, starting with college.

Writing Feedback / Kermit the Frog lamented that it's not easy being green. Do you agree? [4]

Dear Kermit,

I can sympathize with you, Kermit. Being green is not as easy as public service announcements would have you think.

Reasons why:
1.Seventh Generation toilet paper is to fine grain sandpaper as Charmin is to fluffy clouds.
2.Constructing a compost bin from wooden slats and nails is no easy feat. The task took me five hours, though I suppose you would have a rougher time. I can't imagine handling a hammer without opposable thumbs..

3.Organic eggs are $1.62 more per dozen.
4.A high standard of living has spoiled us. In the 1950s, families collected mailings of Sears Roebucks catalogs and used them in place of toilet paper. In modern terms, each page is probably equivalent to six squares of toilet paper. But we don't use sheets from a catalog now; instead, we complain about toilet paper being single-ply or too rough.

5.Greenwashing. It's hard to know what you're buying is actually green as the claims say without deferring to Google. According to the Guardian, at least 98% of 'environmentally-friendly' claims are false or exaggerated. How will being environmentally aware help in the store when you can't rely on more than 2% of product claims to be 100% truthful?

Yet, despite the hindrances, one needs only two compelling reasons why we should strive to minimize our carbon footprints. The first is that we all have a moral responsibility to leave things as we found them. Since you hang out on PBS all the time, I'm probably preaching to the choir here.

But the second reason is this: Optimism is the only option. Being pessimistic, or worse, turning the other cheek, will accomplish nothing. If we consider that every single thing we do has an impact on the planet- good or bad, it makes sense to choose well. Choose to walk instead of drive, eat meat less often, learn about the thousands upon thousands little actions you can take to green each aspect of your life. The options are endless, which means that more often than not, it won't be difficult to find a green option that won't leave you feeling miffed because the toilet paper you recently tried left you sore. I recommend Green Forest toilet paper, because it is whitened without chlorine, 100% recycled, and just as soft as Charmin.

Regards,
Anita

Thanks for reading! I don't like how I ended it; it's rather abrupt. Any ideas? Also, does anyone know if I need to cite the Guardian article?

Undergraduate / 'The scent of chamomile' Amherst essay on kindness [7]

''It seems to me incumbent upon this and other schools' graduates to recognize their responsibility to the public interest...unless the graduates of this college...are willing to put back into our society those talents, the broad sympathy, the understanding, the compassion...then obviously the presuppositions upon which our democracy are based are bound to be fallible.''

John F. Kennedy, at the ground breaking for the Amherst College Frost Library, October 26, 1963

The scent of chamomile wafted from her steaming mug. Beside her, a box of tissue begged to be replenished. I focused on these minute details, perhaps in an effort to put distance between myself and the stranger's shrill tone that carried her cries of betrayal, anger, and disappointment.

The neurons in my brain fired rapidly. What could I possibly do to console her? What could there be to say that wouldn't be hackneyed words of comfort? I could remind her that, in due time, the hurt she felt now would be nothing more than speck in her memory. But, no. That could be annoying to hear. I wouldn't want to marginalize her feelings. A confusing amalgam of sympathy and frustration settled in my chest. I grappled for the right words to say while the stranger grappled with her feelings.

A familiar feeling crept over me as I realized I had been intellectualizing, rationalizing again. Having the right words or the best advice often does little for those needing moral support. When I looked around me, I saw my school's Wellness staff of two, so willing to provide minutiae of advice, but equally willing to facilitate students' gradual understanding of their feelings. Max and Jen are hip twenty-year-olds, understandably popular in our high school community. But what sets them apart in my mind, what makes them special to me, is their unending patience and kindness. They view the world through lens colored by their academic backgrounds- Jen majored in Psychology, Max in Sociology. When I consider my role models, I realize that kindness is the meter stick by which the strength of humanity is measured.

As I continue on the path ahead of me, my experiences will continue to push me to the highest level of intellectual growth. Yet Heraclitus once said, "Much learning does not teach understanding." I would add that understanding is best when complemented by a course of action guided by kind intentions. Understanding and caring with a conscience will do nothing short of strengthening the bonds that tie all of us together.

As I watched the girl opposite from me dissolve into tears, I understood: Kindness doesn't necessarily come in the form of well-intentioned advice. Sometimes, the kindest thing to do is to sit quietly, and let it be known that someone cares. For the moment, I could support her simply listening to understand. And I did.

Undergraduate / Growing up with two religions [NEW]

San Francisco: a cultural mecca where religions coincide and ideas explode into being. Most of my friends and I are fortunate to have lived our entire lives here. But whereas many of my peers only experienced other cultures through the eyes of those with different backgrounds, my six-year-old self was lucky enough to have been immersed in two vastly different religions. By day, I was a diligent student at a Presbyterian Chinese school. At home, I was a Buddhist child, influenced by the Confucianism that tinged my parents' beliefs.

I can vividly recall the afternoons spent in the chapel at school. A lanky preacher stood on the dais, urging us to pray regularly and assuring us that God loved every child he had created. I sat in the pews, my face hidden among the hundreds. By no means did I feel special, but I absorbed the preacher's message all the same.

My parents had wanted me learn Cantonese, but never liked that I was subject to weekly sermons. A devout Buddhist, my mother continues to keep a calendar on the living room wall. The inauspicious days are circled with a bold red crayon; the days on which we light incense for ancestors are marked with pencil. Not a single April has passed without my family's observance of Qing Ming, a Chinese Buddhist tradition of honoring ancestors by visiting the cemetery.

At six, I prayed nightly, but I also remembered not to wash my hair on the days encircled in red. I sometimes wonder how two religions could have had equal influence on me, without causing me great confusion and frustration. What I've come to realize is that my exposure to both Presbyterianism and Buddhism has only had a positive impact.

At seventeen, it seems that the two religions have canceled each other out, as I practice neither today. But what remains of my religious experience is a readiness to embrace all ideas. In the San Franciscan tradition, I only see people- I see neither religion nor race. The light that illuminates each person is colored only by personal qualities. My favorite people are the kindest and quirkiest people I have ever met; they are Catholic, atheist, white, Syrian, Asian. Even as the Chinese characters I learned escape my memory one by one, I remain infinitely grateful for my early immersion in two completely different religions.

I'm 300 characters over (about 30-50 words). Any help on trimming would be much appreciated!

Undergraduate / What don't you know? [3]

The building was no more than three thousand square feet, both floors combined. Yet, each time she stepped into the library, my seven-year-old self was instantaneously overjoyed. The smell of books sent me into a kind of delirium, and for two hours each day, I immersed myself in the sentences stretching across each page. "How many pages would amount to how many miles of words?" I wondered. I planned to amass "a hundred bajillion miles" of knowledge. I strategized to read every book in the library, systematically going down the Dewey system. This was easily done with the bitty chapter books. The nonfiction proved to be a roadblock. Sliding my fingers against the satiny, gilded edges of the encyclopedias, I reveled in the idea that out there was a reserve of knowledge, more vast than my mind could ever comprehend.

At seventeen, I have still not learned everything there is to know in the universe, nor do I ever expect to. But I know I will always be learning, when I am twenty, forty, and ninety. As my knowledge expands, my questions, too, will accumulate. And thus, the paradox explained by David Byrne: "The more you know, the more you know you don't know." The lens through which I view the world will undoubtedly be widened by each gem, each piece of knowledge, I gain. But I fully expect that I will never know all that I don't know.

I hope the sentence fragment in the last paragraph is okay. Any thoughts are appreciated!

Undergraduate / Can you write a good essay without using a personal anecdote? [4]

I'm stuck on this topic:
Why are you drawn to the academic fields you indicated in the Anticipated Degree and Academic Interest questions above?

Generally, I've explained my answers with personal anecdotes, but the deadlines are drawing close and I am feeling completely uninspired. Anyhow, what do you think? Are anecdotes essential?

Undergraduate / Why I love psychology -Cornell supp [7]

My love affair with psychology started at a young age. I was all but eight years old; it was two years my elder, that book of black-and-white optical illusions. We met at a book fair, where I handed the cashier two crisp dollar bills, my soft and tender hands already reaching out for what I had decided was infinitely better than every other book underneath the gazebo's roof.

It was the most magical object in my house. In inclement weather, I invariably reached for the comfort of its pages. It was a great heavy book, the sort which you would expect to cost twenty dollars or more, not two. The cover's silver embossing that used to read "Now You See it, Now You Don't" now read "N w ou See t, ow You Do 't." But while the letters outside may have been fading, I only had eyes for the wonders which lay inside.

Pupils widening over the illustrations within, I marveled at Muller-Lyon lines. How was it possible that I had believed with such conviction that the line on top was longer than the line beneath it, but upon measuring them both, found them to be exactly the same length? If anything, I thought my own brain could be trusted to make a simple observation.

Ten years have passed since I first encountered those lines that confounded and confused me. I have since made a hundred thousand more erroneous judgments, many of which were followed by should-have-would-have-could-have statements tinged with hindsight bias. ("I knew I should have bought the dark chocolate instead of the milk chocolate." "I knew I should have waited for the M train instead of walking to the bus stop." "I knew I should have trusted my instincts; if I had just picked my favorite number, I would now be the sole winner of the California Super Five Lotto.")

There's no telling what makes my brain works the way it does, in part because psychology offers too many answers to ever sift through completely. The answers belong to over a dozen different schools of psychology, each providing plenty of food for thought. I like thinking, and I like the thought that for as many hours I spend picking apart the musings of Freud, Beck, or Rogers, I will never fully comprehend all there is to know, as psychology branches out to all other disciplines that somehow collide together to provide infinite answers for the most basic questions about human existence.

Being completed baffled by optical illusions is still a hobby of mine, but I now spend nights by indulging in the musings of Malcolm Gladwell and Carol Dweck. Reading about the workings of the human mind, I am in a state of flow, the same feeling artists have when they sweep a brush across a fresh canvas. It is the feeling of being stretched, mixed with a heady dose of utter and sheer contentment. Each time I grasp a new concept that answers ten other questions about life, I am elated. So until a credentialed scientist declares the meaning of human existence to be forty-two, indeed, my love for psychology continues unabated.