Undergraduate / "Proud to be a cartoon addict" (Common App Statement) Need help shortening! [3]

For some reason, the thread that this was on before was removed and I was temporarily suspended! I don't have any idea WHY, I'm sure my title was satisfactory...and now I won't get to read any feedback that I got on it before...*sigh*

Anyways, here's what I've written for the Common App essay for 'topic of your choice'. It's 688 words, and common app asks for it to be 'approx. 250-500 words'. I heard somewhere that it was just a guideline and not a word limit per say, but I'm still really worried that I'll be penalized for making it so excessively long. My problem is that I pretty much love it the way it is and I have no idea what I could do to trim it down without ruining it! I really need help, as the deadline is in 8 days.

So, I need help figuring out how to trim this down as much as possible (100 words might be enough...but geez), and any and all other critique and opinions are welcome and appreciated!

If you help me out, I'll give my best shot at whatever essays you might need help with. I love giving critiques on pretty much anything.

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When I was younger, I would stay up for hours watching cartoons. I was a complete addict, and I am proud to proclaim that I still am, thanks to my love of Japanese anime. When I often try to show anime to non-fans, they immediately mention how put off they are by 'all the yelling and crying', 'annoying subtitles', and 'those huge eyes'. It saddens me how quickly they dismiss it, but they aren't used to watching cartoons that have actual substance to them. Whatever others say, anime is more than just 'weird cartoons' to me. They have been consistent inspiration in my life as I developed skills and interests that built on each other and helped me discover my calling as an animator.

Anime ended up being the catalyst that spurred me into becoming an artist. When I was little, I was never put off by the art styles anime used; in fact, I loved them! They seemed very realistic to me, and their large, expressive eyes had so much detail and emotion that it became a hobby of mine to copy character's faces onto tracing paper. I felt confident with the pencil in my hand, but once I removed the tracing paper from the source underneath, the copy tended to look lackluster. I had never considered myself artistic, but I found myself compelled to improve. I eventually dived right into creating my own anime-inspired drawings and characters, buying multiple 'How to Draw' books and wading through online tutorials. I taught myself design principles, lighting, human anatomy, and practiced constantly. Only in high school when classmates who saw me doodling remarked 'Wow! That's so cool!' did I realize I could call myself an artist, and took art classes that challenged and invigorated me. I could watch anime with a sense of pride, knowing that it had inspired me to become something important to me.

But much as I loved anime, it isn't American - it's Japanese, and has cultural elements specific to Japan. When I first sat down to watch my favorite childhood shows in their original language, it frustrated me that I couldn't understand those elements through subtitles. So, I simply taught myself Japanese. I listened to Japanese so often that my ears became accustomed to it, I looked up meanings of words, memorized two alphabets, studied grammar, and did research on the culture. It brought me out of my little American bubble; Japan is a completely different country with its own cultural values and societal issues. Good anime tend to reflect these issues, and I appreciate how much they inadvertently taught me about the vast diversity of the world - and they did it with style.

Unlike most American cartoons, anime takes an extremely cinematic approach in its presentation, and the Japanese never used animation as 'just for kids' or as a medium suitable only for humor. That's what kept me up at night as a kid with my face glued to the TV screen; it's a special brand of storytelling that emphasizes the visual and emotional elements of the story, which can tell a variety of stories to a variety of people. Anime always enraptured me with its raw emotional images and relatable characters that made me laugh, cry, and kept me apt with anticipation. Animation can do so much, and I want to be the one pushing pencil to paper to express my own inner story to anyone who wants to watch it.

Sometimes, when I look back at how far I've come and how much I've learned since those early couch-potato days, I can't help but smile at how it all started from something as simple as watching cartoons. All of the skills and knowledge of cinematic production I've accumulated, the passion I've developed for animation and storytelling, the appreciation for foreign cultures I've gained, and the drive I have as I prepare to dive head-first into college, are all thanks to a childhood obsession. The past eleven years of my life have been unknowingly spent preparing me to enter the world of animated cinema, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Undergraduate / "Getting over city-phobia" Emerson College Honors App Essay [3]

This is an essay I wrote for Emerson's Honors program essay that they want on the common app.

"Wallace Bacon, a recipient of an honorary doctorate from Emerson College in 1975, wrote that the liberal arts, or humanities, 'are concerned with the question of what makes life worth living. And that question concerns not simply oneself but others. The humanities must help us learn who we are; they must help us learn the otherness of others.'

In this light, describe an encounter with someone or something different--an 'other' which revealed to you your sense of self and your relation to humanity. This encounter may involve a person, place, culture, or text (book, speech, film, play, etc.)."

It said to make it approx. 400-600 words. I made it mostly anecdote, but I shortened it a lot from what it originally was (1000 words! ACK!) and it's still 669 words. I don't think I could shorten it much more, and I don't know if I really need to, but I am a bit worried if it really answers the prompt and I think my conclusion's a bit weak. ^_^;

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When I attended a pre-college program in San Francisco, I was confronted with a problem: I was terrified of cities. I'd spent quite a bit of time in New York City with relatives, being carted around and intimidated by huge buildings, never-ending mazes of streets filled with honking cars, and millions of unfamiliar people. At those times, I'd trusted that the adults knew where they were going and I would be fine so long as they were there.

But I wasn't a kid anymore, and I was somewhat unceremoniously dumped in the middle of San Francisco where everything was unfamiliar. I had almost nothing in common with my roommates, and as much as I wanted to explore on my own instead of shopping for clothes, I couldn't bring myself to step outside of the dorms and into the unknown.

I was forced to confront my fears soon enough, as we were lead in groups to an important meeting on I-don't-know-where street, and afterwards were told there were shuttles outside to take us to get our ID cards or schedules. I already had both, so I supposed I should just go back to the dorm. However, I had concentrated so hard on not losing the group that I hadn't paid attention to where we were going. Instead of waiting for the shuttles to leave and strand me, I boarded one and hoped for the best.

But where we arrived there were no shuttles waiting to take anyone anywhere. I knew the address of the dorms and had a small map, but when I attempted to walk away from the building, I suddenly couldn't tell left from right and was too terrified of getting lost to go any further. New Montgomery Street quickly felt like an island in a vast sea filled with sharks.

As I paced in front of the building trying desperately not to cry, I heard a familiar voice and found it was my admissions counselor. With his help, I managed to get a shuttle driver to take me back to the dorms. After I was dropped off, I thanked the driver, ran into the building, up the elevator, into my dorm, and flung myself onto my bunk-bed, crying.

How could anyone expect me to do that every day to get to my classes? Everything was too different from what I was used to! Even if I did know anybody, I couldn't cling to them like a child and ask them 'would you take me?'The whole point of this had been to test my independence! Surely I could handle it? I'd at least managed to find my way back without completely losing it.

After that, I found other ways to manage. I looked up the addresses of my classes and coordinated bus routes to make sure I got where I needed to go. I still nearly got lost a few times, but I'd manage to ask the right person for directions or finally discover how to read a map. Other times, I got too confident and ended up walking ten blocks in the wrong direction, but I kept my head and always made it back. There was lot more to do and see and experience in a city than in a suburb - like finding my way to an AMC theater at night to see the premier of Harry Potter 7 Part 2 while running late and making my roommate save me a seat.

Those six weeks taught me a tremendous amount about myself. There are all sorts of places and lifestyles in the world, and all of them are interesting and worth living. I was more capable than I thought, and I could probably find a way to make any of those lifestyles work for me. I could overcome my fears, and take on challenges with confidence. I'm a girl who's ready for anything that college can throw at her, who knows what she wants, and I'm confident that I can make it all work out fine.