Undergraduate / Liberal Arts, International Perspectives, and WALL-E - the Dream Team. NYU supplement [2]

If you don't mind... :)

Prompt: Please tell us what led you to select both your anticipated academic area(s) of study and the NYU school / college / program or the Abu Dhabi campus. What interests you most about your intended discipline? Mention any extracurricular or non-school-related activities or experiences that demonstrate your interest.

I'm drawn to the College of Arts and Science not only because of its location in New York City, the cultural hub of the east coast, but also because of its reputation as one of the finest liberal arts institutions. When I say that my anticipated area of study is undecided, it's because I find myself equally interested in studying English, journalism and music, as demonstrated by my involvement with my school's Literary Magazine and thirteen years of piano and other music-related activities.

Prompt: NYU is 'In and of the City' and 'In and of the World.' What does the concept of a global network university mean to you? How do you think studying in New York City, Abu Dhabi, or one of NYU's global sites would change you as a person and equip you to build cross-cultural relationships at NYU and beyond?

As someone with a dual heritage - a Chinese family with an American upbringing - the idea of reaching across cultures isn't foreign; it's my everyday life. Stretching my personal global network beyond my own culture is an effort limited only by a lack of opportunity and diversity at home. I'm eager to expand my international perspective - not to see how a hundred worlds are separate, but to see how they're connected. To me, a global network university isn't a portal to the unknown; it's home.

Prompt: If you had the opportunity to bring any person -- past or present, fictional or nonfictional -- to a place that is special to you (your hometown or country, a favorite location, etc), who would you bring and why? Tell us what you would share with that person.

WALL-E is the most inspirational person (robot, I should say) that I've ever seen in a Pixar animation. To thank him for the lessons he taught me - diligence, humility, and an almost unlimited capacity to love - I want to bring him to a place that's special to both of us: Earth. I want to show him a world where life not only survives but flourishes as well, a world where company extends beyond a cockroach and compacted trash. I'll even show him my room if he wants to clean it up for me.

They're boring, especially the first one, but there's very little room for creativity when you need to answer the questions in the space of three text messages...

Comments and criticisms are welcome, as always.

Undergraduate / Brotherly Love, I Suppose - Princeton supplement [3]

Prompt: Option 1 - Tell us about a person who has influenced you in a significant way.

Nobody believes we're brothers. That's a carefully cultivated impression we like to make. He wears glasses, while I wear contacts; he keeps his hair buzzed, while I grow mine out to mother-infuriating lengths. As far as appearances go, if he's Freddie Mercury, then I'm Lady Gaga.

Looking at us, it might never occur to you that Freddie inspired Lady Gaga.

Kevin is not a big fan of euphemisms; he takes two sugars with his coffee and that's about as sweet as he gets. Ironically, that's his endearing quality. He always gives me the best feedback; it ranges alphabetically from "that's awful" to "that's terrible".

He never was big on the whole vocabulary thing.

Ever the prodigal son, ever the successful student, he might cast a long shadow for me to stand in if we weren't almost the same height. He's the standard everyone compares me to, and though I hate to admit it, he's the standard I compare myself to. Call it sibling rivalry, call it pride, call it dogged tenacity, but everywhere he sets the bar, I want to show him I can leap it.

It's funny, though. I know that he doesn't care one way or another; I know that he thinks I'm beneath his attention. I know "that's stupid" is just his answering machine when he doesn't feel like picking up the phone, but that's not what frustrates me. No; his words make me curl up in a corner and cry because I know that, more often than not, he's right. But when I wipe my eyes and stand again, it's with new determination and a stalwart (albeit sniffly) resolution: the next time he absently tosses out a "that's pathetic," he'll be wrong.

Of course, I don't always succeed. All this means, though, is that I'll never stop trying to get better; I'll never stop improving because I'll never stop having something to prove. But what begins as self-vindication eventually becomes self-validation: "This is the best I can do," I say. "That's garbage," he says. To him, it's a fact. To me, it's a challenge - can I do better than my best? Do I dare defy my boundaries? Pride makes me accept; perseverance makes me succeed. When I'm ready once again to clash expectations, though, I find myself facing not him, but myself. "This is the best I can do," I say.

"That's garbage," I say. "You know that isn't true."

His words drop me down a pit, but my stubbornness and self-esteem provide me with a ladder. Struggling slowly, hauling myself up hand-over-hand, my eyes are always fixed upon the next rung; only until I find myself suddenly in the clouds do I recognize a silver lining. Looking down, I've left everyone far behind. Looking up, I think I can see success waiting for me at the top. Maybe I'm just imagining it; maybe the top doesn't exist. It doesn't matter. Whether he meant to or not, Kevin has already taught me something amazing:

If you're going to climb forever, the sky is just the beginning.

A few comments about this:
This piece was originally my CommonApp essay; as such, a lot of people mentioned that it didn't really have the lighthearted tone that usually characterizes and strengthens my writing. In fact, some people said this essay had a bit of a dark and bitter feel to it. I tried my best to cut those parts out, but I'm pretty sure a few snuck through anyway.

My original Princeton supplement was noticeably more inspirational and positive, though, so it was suggested that I switch the two after fleshing out my Princeton essay a little more. I submitted my CommonApp yesterday to a school already, so at least that's pretty much settled (although there's still time before I need to submit it again for schools today - I might be able to make a new version if necessary). If you read my new CommonApp essay, though (which I would appreciate as well), you might notice that they both end with cheesy inspirational one-liners. I've been told that reading my commonapp and then this essay back to back gets really, really tiring.

Any feedback? Criticism is more helpful than praise, but I'll take both :)

Undergraduate / Night Flying - Common Application Personal Essay. [3]

Considering it's due in less than an hour, I'd appreciate any quick feedback you might have.

Prompt: Topic of your choice (unless you have a better idea - I couldn't think of any option this essay could fit under)

I can fly.

No, seriously. I spread my arms, take a running start, jump as high as I can, and I'm flying. The ground falls away beneath my feet, and suddenly the world is made of toy cars and dollhouses. I'm floating, I'm falling up, I'm flying until my mother throws off the covers and demands to know just what the hell I'm still doing in bed when school started half an hour ago.

"Go 'way, Mom. I'm trying to fly," I mumble, clutching my pillow in a dream-fogged stupor.

"You're not flying, and if you don't get up in five seconds you'll be grounded."

With a start, I realize that the fetal position is conducive neither to flight nor mother's delight. In four seconds flat, I'm stumbling groggily into the bathroom. A glance out the window at the gray Monday sky confirms that the universe hates early mornings as much as I do. Today, a thought has half-formed in my still-hazy mind: I don't have to stop flying if no one says otherwise. A splash of cold water washes the notion out of my head for the rest of the day.

I have a piano audition after school. As we pull into our parking spot, my dad turns around and gives me the dreaded Serious Look. "Look," he begins, "I know you practiced this piece a lot. You've been working really hard to learn it, and I'm proud of you for doing so much, but you just started learning this piece last month. I know your teacher's been cramming in two or three lessons a week for you, but even so, you know you're not ready. I really don't think you should even enter this competition."

I give him another moment to make sure he's finished with his monologue before I respond. "Bit late for that now, Dad. Don't worry, I'm sure I'll do fine," I say, flashing him a smile full of false cheer. I hop out of the car and head over to the front doors, where my piano teacher is waiting anxiously. "Come on, you're up soon," she says, ushering me hurriedly inside. As we wait outside the audition room, I can feel my sweaty palms wrinkling the sheet music. She notices my restless shifting. "What's wrong?"

I scratch my head sheepishly. "Ah... to be honest, I'm pretty sure I'm not ready for this audition."

My teacher snorts derisively. "You can't think like that while you're walking into the room. I spent ten hours with you on this piece; there's no way you're not getting in."

I'm not sure if that's a promise, a reassurance, or a threat; whatever it is, her careless confidence is contagious. I enter the room, fully certain that I can't fail. All the way up to the piano, past the panel of judges with expressions of supreme boredom plastered across their faces, I'm walking on air.

It's not flying. It's pretty close, though.

My teacher calls later that night to report a successful audition. "Was there ever any doubt?" I ask smugly.

"Oh, definitely," she replies. "I thought for sure you wouldn't make it in. Good thing I didn't say that; you definitely would've failed if I had."

I shrug. I take my victories where I can.

As I curl up in preparation for another night's flight, my morning's fragmented musing finally pulls itself together into a more coherent thought: flying isn't about believing you can. It's about not believing you can't.

Comments, please - the harsher the better.