Speeches / High School Salutatorian Speech (our class Valedictorian) [2]

Bear in mind the kelly in reference is our class Valedictorian... we have a history of friendly competition

Would everyone please rise?
Pause
Thank you. You may be seated.
That felt great.

When I first approached my salutatorian speech, I had one modest, yet unmistakable objective in mind: to eclipse Kelly's valedictorian address as the single most riveting display of prodigious speech giving to ever have been delivered. Well... perhaps two objectives. Aside from overshadowing Kelly, I thought I might also impart to my fellow graduates some traditional salutatorian counsel, some guidance in confronting the looming future of post high-school existence. Also, it rhymes:

As salutatorian, you may consider this my salutation,
Opening remarks to herald you, my congregation,
To this of ceremonious events, our graduation,
Though now with pressure mounting, I seem to be experiencing mild perspiration... sorry, this is embarrassing, Enter Axe Body Spray stage right.
By now, you must all be anticipating some expert feat of inspiration,
The likes of which will merit applause and veneration,
Unfortunately, my speech composition suffered from severe procrastination,
And the rhyming pretty much ends here.

Honestly, though, I recognize my duties as Salutatorian speaker to shield you from the same vacant, barren, middlebrow husk of a speech we've all seen and heard before; the familiar type where some eager student saunters across stage before delivering a self-satisfying, grandiose statement spewing graduation clichés and seemingly profound quotes about "life's transition" and the "pursuit of true happiness."

Pause. Look at Kelly.
And so, if you'll indulge me for a moment, I implore you each to take a deep breath and just listen - concentrate heavily and sincerely listen. Can you hear it: the intricate inner workings of several billion neurons collaborating to postulate sophisticated human deliberation? No, me neither. But if you did, it would likely be the noise generated by your frontal cerebral lobe denoting thought, and astonishingly, I do know what it is you're thinking. You're thinking the same critical assertion hovering around in the collective unconscious of each and every one of you present today: That I, Andrew Moorman, am unquestionably the leading orator and most inventive wit of our generation and in the history of American rhetoric - oh don't worry, there's more - and that this speech, the gold standard of commencement addresses, will inevitably presage the dawning of a new era of salutatory brilliance. Now, I know what you all must be thinking right now, "Get out of my head." But as for the few cynics in the audience unwilling to admit to my accuracy, there is a purpose behind that appallingly self-absorbed statement. I wrote it as proof that even delusional self-assurance can illumine the fear-provoking darkness associated with the future. The thought of delivering a speech before a several thousand-member audience is difficult to process, but it becomes easier when you can openly praise yourself before that same audience of thousands, none of whom can contradict you. Watch, it's fairly easy, and fun too: Andrew, you are fantastic. See? And it's this same haughty self-confidence that I believe every member of our graduating class should tote with his or herself into future happenings, be it college or other, for it is only when we have overwhelming faith in our own success that we can truly realize it and be successful. (Insert Student Specific Message Here).

So, ladies and gentlemen, Class of 2011, practice self-flattery, pat yourselves on the back, and be certain that you have the means and the competence to not merely attempt, but excel in whatever future events happen to arise. And if that fails, you could always try bribing. Thank you.

Undergraduate / "architecture consumed each of my academic interests" - Supplement Essay for Cornell [3]

My current length is 531 words though the maximum is 500

How does the major you would like to study in the College of Architecture, Art, and Planning match your intellectual, academic, and career interests? Discuss any activities you have engaged in that are relevant to your chosen major.

To be frank, Gothic architecture never impressed me much; its flowery displays of sophistication and meticulous attention to detail seemed pretentious, its pointed arches and ribbed vaults, while picturesque, unnecessary. However, flip a few pages back in history books and there you would find the source of my intrigue, the archaic Stonehenge, with its rectangular slabs of rocky medium, minimal and austere, rendering art from intersecting arrangements in space. Its simplicity parallels its beauty. While style is transitory, form is everlasting, and it is timeless.

To me, the term architecture has never denoted buildings at all. Architecture is an arrangement of space to capture the intangible - an emotion, a sensation, a sound - in a concrete form often unattainable by art. As a child, this translated to the arrangement of room furniture so that I could achieve precisely the right experience when entering the area; with school, the organization of books and materials to best support their function and suit my needs, all without interrupting the utility of others. And as I matured, so did my interest. Composition became an art; arrangement, a style.

Life no longer comprised indifference to lackluster repetition of structures, but sparks and fascination at how wall shelves, physical edifices, even the layout of books on a ledge could be as evocative as any painting or sculpture. I was infatuated.

And, ultimately, architecture consumed each of my academic interests: art, math, physics, engineering, each hinging on the arrangement of matter and how it may effect its surroundings, be it supporting structures or viewer perspective. In time, my curiosity even devoured extracurricular activity: leading decorations committees within various school clubs taught me the importance of teamwork and deadlines while, outside of school, I aided in the construction of several houses, including my own; acquired first-hand experience with buildings and the architects in charge of erecting them by means of my occupation in an excavating business; and participated in the repair of low-income Appalachian homes every summer of my high school career, in each case, eager for a glimpse at the inner workings of practical structural design, while retaining attentiveness toward the same assembly of flat planes that had attracted my adoration from the beginning.

I have always been preparing for a future in architecture - one in which I might utilize an education to give life to my own architectural conceptions of form and spatial arrangement - and Cornell, with its respect for tradition and outreach to future ideas, appears and has appeared to be my perfect match to achieve this dream: past and future architecture is only tied together by basic form, my interest. At the college of AAP, I would nurture my own architectural interests while broadening my perspective on the field, itself, to include new the theoretical outlooks of its classes and cultural perceptions of its students. Like all Cornell applicants, I hope to introduce something refreshing to the university, but perhaps what sets me apart is what I intend to present: a new take on the subject itself. The clothing and accessories of the building are not what interest me, but rather its basic building blocks, its skin and form, the skeleton inside.

i would also like to add the sentence
"It's easy to create art in architecture when the walls are your canvas, more difficult when the ground is your canvas and the walls, your paint."

regarding my opinions on architecture, though i am not entirely sure where to put it

Undergraduate / "A Scotch-Brite Life" - Common App Essay for Cornell [10]

Topic of my choice... not finished yet
A Scotch-Brite Life

I am, for all intents and purposes, a sponge. Not the permeable marine invertebrate nor the deliciously elastic and open-textured cake, but the common household utensil, porous and absorbent, synthetic and bare. Foamed plastic polymers intertwine my very being. Cellulose wood fibers circulate my veins. Unwrap me from plastic and, vacant, I am ready to perform. But do not be mislead; I am rather content with a sponge's existence, for the sponge is a highly underrated material, too often berated by implications of tedium and the mundane when weighed against more exhilarating cleaning equipment. However, the reality is quite the contrary. In a world of mighty cleansing dissolvents and rigid wire brushes, the sponge is unique: whereas the others destroy, a sponge absorbs and absorption is a fascinating thing.

Inspect closely the operation of this household device, the sponge: sopping up any variety of messy, staining adulterants, sponges digest heaps of what is placed before them but never regurgitate quite the same output. Rather, exuding from their porous surface is an innovative concoction of inputs altered from their original forms - a new mixture not identical to what they had consumed, but identifiable, nonetheless. Like my permeable companions, I operate in a similar fashion. While some may be content with life explicit, I revel in application: Nothing learned departs from my train of thought in quite the same manner it arrived. My mind is in constant motion, sopping up information and then making connections and extensions, never satisfied with the quintessential "What?" Rather, I prefer "Why?" "How?" "What if?" and "How does this apply?" An observer would find my notebooks rich with annotation - mind maps splashed in speculation and dripping interrogative scribbles - sprawled across white expanses of paper, each a footnote reminder of questions eager to be posed. And, more often than not, they are. Indeed, dispersed amid teacher instructions on English and Chemistry are my own queries of how the lost generation era might have influenced subject matter in The Great Gatsby or why the chemical composition of sea coral allows it to be used in human bone grafts. While fellow students might consider this curiosity senseless, perhaps even a "class distraction" from the tedious routine of lecture, I believe it to be the mark of an original thinker. The intersecting pores and canals that comprise my own mental procedure allow information to flow, mix, and mingle with other streams of consciousness before being wrung out of thought and into use, allowing ordinarily bland class work to be made fresh and exotic. By jotting down ties between, for instance, yesterday's calculus lesson and the vectorial nature of velocity learned in physics, I have created a unique and effective manner of studying, becoming a more active learner in the process. Occasionally, the precise act of composing associations between classes sparks an epiphany in my studies, allowing me to grasp previously misunderstood concepts. At other times, my inquisition sparks debate among classrooms, permitting an entire group of students to experience a glimpse of sponge-like curiosity. In either case, what began as an indissoluble connection between myself and a particularly tattered copy of The Way Things Work has blossomed into my existing personality, each arbitrary question and unnecessary inquisition a minute pore or fleshy piece of absorbent material that, when pieced together, produce a representation of my being. Quite simply, I am a sponge: I seek to absorb, grasp the foundation of what I learn, and then construct my own presumptions upon it. Some may deem us mundane, the epitome of routine domestic cleanup, but I consider our existence unique, for amid a society of harsh chemical and physical cleaning equipment, only a select few can truly lead a sponge's existence and find meaning in a Scotch-Brite life. I am glad to be one of them.