Undergraduate / Common app: S'mores in Andover [5]

Is it boring and pointless? I wanted to get across that I'm someone who is friendly, creative, and likes challenges (even if it's simple like making s'mores), but I don't know if my essay does that. I hope it's not really cliche.

I'd really appreciate any feedback/any grammar help! you can be honest if it's bad or if it doesn't make sense. Honesty will help me a lot! Thanks!

10 p.m. I put my pencil down and got up from my desk to take a break. Looking out the window, I saw light streaming from the unfamiliar Gelb Science Building. It had already been a week at Phillips Academy, but it still felt strange to be away from home for the summer. Before my thoughts could drift any further, I heard a sigh escape my exhausted roommate Paola. I walked over to her desk where she writing her paper when she threw down her pen.

"That's it! I'm taking a break," she paused, "but you know what I want right now? S'mores. I even have the stuff to make them-it's too bad we don't have a fire." I chuckled at such a random thought: s'mores at 10 p.m.? Still, I couldn't help but nod in agreement. A nice, sweet snack would be the perfect energizer. Seconds ticked away and the more I thought about s'mores the more I craved them, but there was a problem. We weren't allowed to light candles in the dorm, let alone a fire to roast marshmallows over. How could we make real s'mores without fire? A challenge presented itself to me. Sighing, I sat back down in my chair and started searching my mind for a possible solution when, a moment later, I stood up abruptly. A crazy yet perfect answer to my problem had been found.

"Paola, we going to have s'mores. I have a crazy idea, but it's going to work!" I told her determined. She turned around unsurprised by my outburst. We had been roommates for only a week, but she was already used to my odd ideas and spontaneity. (Heck, she saw me eating a cookie with chopsticks on the second day we moved in!) This wasn't new for her and I was prepared to execute the plan that would satisfy both our cravings. Nothing could stop me now.

Trusting whatever plan I had would work, she took out a box of gram crackers, a few Hershey bars, and a bag of marshmallows from her closet while I rummaged through my own drawers for all the necessary equipment. I quickly found what I needed: a hair straightener, a fork, and some napkins. Everything else was already on my desk. I was ready to begin Operation S'more!

Paola watched curiously as I first cleaned off the hair straightener before plugging it in. While the straightener warmed, I stacked several textbooks under my short desk lamp and laid a napkin over the topmost book. A golden gram cracker garnished with a smooth chunk of chocolate was then placed on the napkin ready for melting. To melt it, I bent the flexible neck of my lamp down until the raised chocolate sat less that an inch from the scorching light bulb. The lamp was left to do its job.

Intent on my work, I turned to the straightener which had finally heated up. It was time for the last step. Picking up a fork, I speared a marshmallow and stuck it between the straightener's two ceramic clamps, letting the intense heat from the plates slowly toast the marshmallow's soft exterior. It started turning golden brown exactly as I had anticipated. Grinning at me, Paola grabbed her own fork and followed suit. When all pieces of the s'mores were ready, we assembled them together and enjoyed our sugary little dessert: overcoming the challenge made the s'mores all the more sweeter.

A minute later, we heard a knock on our door as some other girls on our floor wandered in curious about the delicious smell wafting out of our room. When they saw the little s'more factory on my desk, they couldn't help but laugh and join us. Introductions were made and what began as a quest to make a simply sweet snack became an ice breaker that brought our dorm mates closer together. Finally at eleven, Paola and I bid them goodnight and cleaned up. We still had work to do. Paola, now fully energized, was ready to tackle her speech, and I was ready conquer my next challenge-- finishing up the rest of my eighty question problem set for Pre-Calculus class the next morning. Summer was off to a great start.

Undergraduate / most appealing about Columbia (afraid it Doesnt make sense...) [6]

Please tell us what you find most appealing about Columbia and why:

Face it. The job market is increasingly competitive due to the economic crisis. Companies hire only the best and they know that Columbia graduates are the best. Why? Because to be a Columbia graduate' means much more than just the name. It means passing the College's rigorous courses, many of which are unrivaled anywhere. It means having a mind open to diversity and fantastic social skills. It means having the determination to compete and the ability to successfully overcome any challenges presented. That is what Columbia means and why a Columbia graduate is the best: I want to among the best.

Here is my problem...I wanted to answer the question without directly saying: "Columbia appeals to me because..." so I tried to answer it using a different approach. but i think, my approach seems more off topic than actually answering it.

what I'm trying to say is that Columbia appeals to me because of : "College's rigorous courses, many of which are unrivaled anywhere," and that it puts you in a position where you face challenges that take determination to overcome, and prepares you well for the future.

If it doesn't make sense, please tell me (because it doesn't work if only I understand what I'm trying to say). I think I may rewrite it.

Undergraduate / Common app Essay: No Need for a Cure [5]

I'm not sure if my essay makes sense or gets across the pieces of my personality that I want to show. Please give me your thoughts and tell me what you get from reading this. I really appreciate it. Thanks!

No Need for a Cure

"Don't keep your hands in your pockets" he said "if you don't have them out, you'll land on your face when you trip." Thanks. Thanks a lot for the advice dad, but am I really so clumsy that I can't put my hands in my pockets when I walk? Well...

Okay, I confess. I lack coordination and have an interesting sense of balance that people have come to know me by. Three years ago, however, I would have refused to admit it because I had not come to terms who I am. Back then, my clumsiness was shameful and every misstep that left me sprawled across the ground turned my face tomato-red with embarrassment. It did not help that my witnesses were amused to see a frantic little girl scrambling to gather her fallen books with the words 'I want to disappear' written across her face. They laughed and I desperately wished to melt into the floor.

By the time I had made a fool of myself multiple times, I felt hopeless and afraid that the rest of my high school years would be wasted trying to hide my flaws. I wanted to be articulate, calm, composed-the way I envisioned a true high school student should be. I wanted to change and an opportunity presented itself to me.

"We're going to go see the Breakdancers at Hip Hop Club!" my friend Tiffany said enthusiastically. She dragged me to the cafeteria where they practiced and sat us down at a lunch table. The scene opened up before me as I watched as the Breakdancers smoothly perform intricate steps and movements. The balanced coolly on their hands and transitioned from one move to the other with grace. I was awed. They were everything I wanted to be; they were light on their feet, coordinated, and collected. Each of their movements flowed one into another and each dancer emulated his own rhythm and style confidently.

I gaped at them in amazement when Tiffany leaned over and whispered, "let's join the Hip Hop Club together." Suddenly it occurred to me, could this club be the cure to my klutziness? Could these dancers turn me into one of them? Questions, hopes, and fears clouded my mind but my thoughts were cut short when a member from the crew spotted us watching and approached. Jhon introduced himself and invited us to join the crew. I clenched my fists, took a deep breath, and followed him over to the rest of the Breakdancers. At that moment, I made a resolution to throw out my clumsiness and become a flawless dancer with the aid of the crew.

"Let's get started," Jhon turned us, "we'll teach you 'the turtle' freeze first." With out even pausing, he placed both hands on the floor, kicked his feet up and balanced perfectly in the air for five seconds. I watched in horror as he showed us 'the turtle' knowing well that we were expected to try this balancing act next. Jhon got up and gave us a nod. Part of me wanted to run away frantically, but my purpose won out. I declared war on my lack of coordination and followed Jhon's example. I placed both hands on the floor, and kicked up. For a second, I was in the air and excitement raced through me as I thought 'I can do this!'

Then disaster struck as balance eluded me once again and my wrists gave out. Whatever excitement I had ended abruptly when gravity a took hold and planted my face into the straight into the ground. I lay on the floor full of shame and heard Jhon's footsteps approaching. I knew what was coming and anticipated the blow: he was going to tell me to leave the club because these smooth and confident dancers could never accept a klutz like me. I felt so naïve for hoping otherwise. He opened his mouth to speak:

"Are you okay?" he asked. I sat up immediately and did a double take. Where was the whole "klutzes aren't welcome here" speech? Where was the killer blow that would cut my ties to the club? Confused, I reluctantly told him the truth: I don't think I can do this--I'm clumsy, I have no balance, I...he cut my rant short.

"It's alright," he said laughing, "It happens to all of us, so don't worry about it. You can be clumsy and still learn to break dance if you practice. Hey, just be yourself." I stared at him blankly while his words processed and echoed in my head. He had a friendly laugh. It's alright, he had said. It's alright to be clumsy. It's alright to be myself. Suddenly my resolution seemed silly-I felt the blood rushing to my face as the realization hit me: I had let my clumsiness turn into self doubt and an automatic expectation of defeat. I looked back at the dancers and gradually noticed slight pauses in their routine. At first, I had taken these pauses to be a part of their style, but now I saw what was going on-these pauses were, as hard as it was to believe, their mistakes. I had not noticed them before because dancers had not let their mistakes get to them. They carried on, laughed, and practiced again and again until they perfected each movement instead of being embarrassed. This was the first time, anyone had ever told me I was fine the way I was and at once, I felt foolish for trying to get rid of my clumsiness. I finally saw that it wasn't my clumsiness that made others laugh; it was my own reaction to my spills-the self doubt, the self consciousness, the feeling of shame and embarrassment I let take over myself...I was tired of it.

The following week, I went back to Hip Hop Club-not to change myself but to be myself among the people I enjoyed learning from. My klutziness was no longer a condition I sought to cure and for the first time, I began to accept this trait as a part of my personality. I would learn to break dance because I wanted to-I was not going to quit because of some simple lack of coordination. I was not going to let my self doubt get the best of me. I felt sure that I was ready to live and move forward with my clumsiness.

With my mind set, I headed contently to the cafeteria with Tiffany, for the next meeting when, out of the blue, I stumbled dangerously over the leg of chair. Tiffany looked at me unsurprised.

"You're such a klutz." Tiffany joked gently. I shrugged and gave her a little smile, but I didn't deny it.