Undergraduate / I promise to continue it; common app- judo [3]

Please please please can someone review this, I have to send my common app today!
Grammatical errors, flaws in concept, confusion, anything! please help me. thank you!

Sweat beads dripping from my forehead, heart racing and face flushed, I took a sip of water in hopes of untying the twists and tangles in my stomach. My feet were bare, I was wearing my judo uniform, and as I heard my named called on the loud speaker, I stepped onto the mat. The nerves wrecked me just as bad as last time. As the referee called, "Hajime!" (begin), I jumped into my judo spirit and blurred out every sound, every person except my opponent, and I went for it. Year after year, I compete in judo tournaments. Not only for the experience, but because I need a relief, judo is my relief. Whether it is reaching a new belt, or having my chance to beat a boy, my mind switches from "Am I going to miss my bus?" to "His right foot stepped to the side, perfect timing!" Since eight, I've learned the sport. But at eight, what was it to me? A belt here, a choke there, nothing that provided as instrumental to my being. Now, eight years later, judo is my before school milkshake, it is my pre-test nerves, it is my after school workout. It is the mentality that I hold throughout my day. As an assistant judo teacher, to be able to see the progress in young kids, to teach them my mistakes, to see them grow to love the sport as much as I do is the biggest reward. Eight years ago I started, eight years after I teach it, and eight more years further I promise to continue it.

Undergraduate / Hunting the Hidden ; Columbia Supp- "what you found interesting..." [2]

What you found meaningful about one of the above mentioned books, publications or cultural events... (I obviously wrote down a dvd called fractals)

Fractals: Hunting the Hidden Dimension, is a movie far from the works of Walt Disney. I'd first watched as a result of an interesting newspaper article. "Hey, Mr. Kohm," I murmured as I stumbled into his office (he is the AP of math at my school). I dropped my black leather bag on the wooden desk, grabbed a chair and sat down. "Here," he said, "check this out." He handed me a newspaper. In it, was an article about a middle school in Brooklyn, New York, where kids had the opportunity of learning art through math. It wasn't something I'd learned in elementary school, middle school, or even high school; yet, these kids were inadvertently opposing Euclid's geometric theory, through fractals. I sat in my chair, looking at the wonderful art, and thinking it all came from math. This was like the Vitruvian Man, 2012 edition. "What's a fractal? Were we supposed to learn this?" I asked Mr. Kohm. "No, the department says we don't have enough time to cover it but look-" he pulled out a DVD, Fractals: Hunting the Hidden Dimension. I watched the movie, in complete awe of the material I'd skipped out on. Learning concepts, theories, ideas that disproved every understanding I had of math, showed me a new dimension. A fractal, no matter how restricted it may look, is infinite. It's a pattern, a pattern the dives into another infinitely and can reflect everything in nature from mountains to coastlines to lakes. I'd realized my understanding of math was through the experimentation of others. And now, it was through the experimentation of another that I was able to gain a whole new perspective. I'd learned that "testing the waters" isn't such a bad thing. Opposing a well known mathematician created a theory of its own, one that's more pragmatic. Even though that article was just an article, and the movie is just a movie, it provided as incentive for me to learn, to explore and to understand as much as possible.

Undergraduate / What part of us speaks to one genre, one beat, one sound? ; NYU supp- What intrigues? [4]

"Sh-sh shout! Shout! Shout at the devil!" Thud! "What was that?" cried my mother as she ran into the room with her brows furrowed, and her expression: worried. "Nothing" I responded. Her eyes glared over at the television; red lights pounded the screen with Mick Mars and Nikki Sixx shredding to their fingers' tips. "Turn off this noise!" I stood there, disillusioned, confounded, stammered as to how someone could deny the wonder that is, Red, White and CrĂźe. While they perform night after night, with the intensity of a heavy metal crowd following them, my DVR allows me to dive into a realm so deviant from a sixteen year old, high schooler's life. For hours, I learn about the greatness of Shakespeare, the wonder of fractals, the honor of Lincoln; and while such contributions have proved instrumental to our capabilities as humans now, we forget the importance of... nothing. Nothing: that which takes part in none other but instinct, the part that bears the weight of the human experience, and manages to carry it. How can it be that such an abstract concept glides through generations, races, and people? What part of our instinct allows us to jump into a pool of reality and fantasy all at once? What part of us speaks to at least one genre, one beat, one sound? Are we all, essentially the same? I might have just answered my own question.

Undergraduate / "Thailander" ; NYU sup/ What intrigues you? [3]

What intrigues you? Tell us about one work of art, scientific achievement, piece of literature, method of communication, or place in the world (a film, book, performance, website, event, location, etc.), and explain its significance to you.

Star of Siam on Metropolitan Blvd, across the street from a Carvel, sitting alongside Edible Arrangements. Their "We're Open" sign manages to squirm through my hectic days, and give me that almost-as-good-as-mom's plate of drunken noodles. Dinner after dinner, I escape to the small confines of an "along the beaten path" restaurant, where Areya, brings me Tom Yum soup as a starter; can't beat their ten dollar dinner special. I'm not Thai nor do I have a trail of Siamese in my blood; I have no connection to Thailand. My mom's dinner plate consists of roti and daal, an Indian dinner. But after that one bite, that one glorious chew of the slimy noodle covered in spices and curry galore, just call me a "Thailander." Areya, my new friend, traveled from Thailand in search of a better life. As she smiles with every step bringing me my order, I realize I can only ask for that, a happy heart. From her dedication, to her strength: as a person, an immigrant, a woman, Areya has shown me the importance of perseverance. Each time I take a bite, she takes a step closer to paying for an extra college class, or a heavier envelop of money to send back home. With this in mind, I say "Can I get the regular?" What I mean is "You can do it."

Undergraduate / Explore,Indulge, Learn; Boston U; "Why BU" [3]

College, my chance to explore, indulge, learn. From 4 pm ballet classes to an after school math club, I can say my first hobby wasn't my last. Through my sixteen years, I've been able to maneuver the tricks of pliĂŠs and dive into the equations of Pythagorus. At Boston University, I would have just that, an opportunity: to explore, to be able to jump from mathematician to humanitarian in a matter of campus blocks. To indulge, to understand and surround myself with people from different cultures and backgrounds. To learn, to pursue every aspect of my mathematical interest. To be surrounded by a community such as Boston University, I'd be able to elicit a drive that will carry me through college.

Boston University's joint concentration programs in mathematics and philosophy reflect exactly what I've yearned to study throughout high school. Coming from a school more artistically inclined, a chance to thrive in an atmosphere that tailors to my interest is all I ask. In addition, the university's study abroad program would provide me with a chance to see the world I've longed to explore. From Arrezo, Italy to Tokyo, Japan, Boston University provides a platform for success through its emphasis on a well learned person. As I see the university's dedication for their well ranked success, I promise my dedication to uphold the stature of the school.

Undergraduate / Essay about becoming a vegetarian - feedback (500 words)? [3]

Poconos 2004: Crackling sounds of kettle corn popped over fire, echoing through the cabin walls, while the smack of lapping ocean waves collected the serenity of the woods. The combined laughs from cousins, aunts and uncles gathered with candles permeating the cabin walls. The only light was the cabin's, and the stars which danced in the sky. Our windows welcomed raccoons, who, persistently tapped until morning. These sounds were insignificant compared to the tranquility of the never-ending woods, the twinkling of stars under the breadth of the moon, and the "swish" of wind moaning through rustling trees.

The thrills of physical activity, or "fun" suited most of the family, but my excitement rooted from my grandfather, who, finally decided to join us. He came from the Brahman caste, which emphasizes a vegetarian diet, anything with the faintest scent of meat was considered untouchable. He was vegetarian, always trying to get us to join in his daily dose of greens. Our last night in the cabin was spent packing, and I was determined to bypass any chores. I encountered a closet door as I slithered through the rooms hiding from the calls of "Mili! Get here now!" Still, it wasn't the opening to Narnia every child hopes for.

"Om Bhuur Bhuvah-" I interrupted my grandfather with the opening creak of the old door. "Ajoba?"(grandfather) I whispered. He'd been reciting his prayers. He flashed a smile, revealing his dentures, and I asked, "Why are you a vegetarian?" I knew the answer. He'd given numerous lectures on being vegetarian. There wasn't a reason why I wanted to hear the story again, I was looking to hide from my mother. While I was anticipating, "We're Brahmans, it is our duty to carry our tradition," his answer was deviant. "Because, the elephant is my favorite animal." I chuckled at the simple natured answer of my eloquent grandfather. He asked if I liked the elephant, I scoffed, "No." I remember the smirk he carried, as if I were too young to understand the majesty of... an elephant.

I'd never understood that religion, culture, and tradition could have originated from a thought as simple as "the elephant is my favorite animal." "When I die, I want to come back an elephant. They're strong, they're humble, and they live longer than us, because they're vegetarians. Kameena. Mean. Most animals are mean, always killing. Your mother never listened to me. Once she came here-" he paused,"-once everyone came here, they started eating meat. Will you become vegetarian... for me?" The spark in my eyes matched his. "Yes!"

There was no pressure, no expectation, just a favor, something I could do not only to make my grandfather happy, but to be proud of something: carrying forward a tradition, carrying forward a memory, proud of knowing why I wanted to be a vegetarian. If I did this, I'd be closer to an elephant: calm, gentle, peaceful. I never thought, an elephant carried the secrets for my becoming who I am.