I feel that some of these essays (mainly the one about writing a letter) feels too forced/confusing/drawl. Is a re-write necessary? Are my themes clear? Thanks a bunch for helping me out!
Reflect on an idea or experience that has been important to your intellectual development.
Over the rigorous course of a countless number of years, I have been in an infinite creative cycle. Since the fifth grade, I have collected information, philosophy, and, most importantly, motivation for a certain project, more specifically, an idea. This idea is not simply a thought; it is not a stream of impulses that crashes into my brain, this idea completely defines who I am as a person. As I have grown, it has grown with me. As I change, it changes. We affect one another, my idea and I. This idea, this unmolested, uncontrolled inspiration, is a novel, in both implications of the term.
My interests fueled the smoldering embers of an idea into a roaring flame. I devised a premise, in the sixth grade. The characters wrote themselves. The choices that altered me as a person afflicted their kinks and quirks. Even as my maturity level grew, the intensity and darkness of the book grew with it. The main character went from being somewhat anti-social to being an all-out psychopath.
I would even attribute this novel-idea to determining my career choice. Research on psychopathy, schizophrenia, and obsessive-compulsive disorder all hooked me on the topic of psychology. My original idea created an offspring-I incepted myself.
Ultimately, the quintessential values I obtained from this idea follow me around like a guardian angel. The one thing I learned from this idea is that nothing in life is ever complete. My novel may find its way onto bookshelves, or it may remain locked deep in the crevices of my mind. People still experience it one way or another. I am the living relic of my idea.
Write a note to your future roommate that reveals something about you or that will help your roommate - and us - know you better.
Future Roommate,
Welcome to hell. The way I see it, this is your college boot camp. For the next semester/year you will be living in my house under my rules. Any and every sign of wanton disobedience will not be tolerated, and it will be met with the appropriate form of punishment. The basic rules are as follows:
1. Under no circumstance are you to leave or enter the dormitory without my permission.
2. No food or drinks allowed.
3. When I am awake, you are awake. When I am asleep, you are asleep.
4. You will not speak until spoken to.
5. Help will only be granted upon my discretion.
6. You will respect me, your fellow students, and anyone and everyone associated with Stanford University in any way, shape or from.
These rules must be obeyed at all times. What's that, bantam? You want to know a little bit about me? Well, consider yourself a winner of The Superbowl, buy yourself a trip to Disney World, and give yourself a pat on the back, because I don't share this with just anyone.
I was born and raised in the deserted wastelands of Nebraska, where I hiked twelve miles for water, fifteen miles for a cow, and twenty miles for a 'lil something-something called corn. Every day, I had to take the horse to school, where we learn the three r's: reading, righting, and 'rithmatic. I am confident my education there will propel me into Stanford University, where you and I are attending. Let me be the first to break the news to you. Congratulations, bantam. It's gonna be a long four years!
P.S. I'm the most sarcastic person I know. Don't take anything I say for face value. If I seem serious...I'm more than likely being sarcastic.
What matters to you, and why?
A relativist will tell you that nothing matters. They will preach about how there are no moral absolutes, how we are all on this ever-expanding, slowly shrinking universe for no reason.
I don't buy it. There is something that every person who meanders around this seemingly hopeless world possesses, a vocation. This, to me, is what truly matters.
Like all vocations, mine is ever-changing. We as humans never have our callings set in stone. No one person performs the same mundane task every moment of the day. Instead, we humans are morphing to whatever life throws at us, not only with relation to our professions, but how we practice these professions, where, and to what extent. For me, I feel destined to a certain vocation, a vocation that every person is either called to, or hopes to achieve.
I want to change the world. The statement seems so insignificant resting on a worthless piece of parchment, but it's the truth. As persons, we are obligated to leave the world better than we found it, and lately-through the course of human history-that isn't going well. I have an unquenchable thirst to fix that. One person can make a difference. Thousands can change what history textbooks will read millennia from now.
Through my upbringing, my learning, and my pure motivational drive, I believe I can accomplish this daunting task. I see it as my personal debt I owe to the world. Everything I have ever done has led up to where I am now, and I'm only at the beginning.
When I breathe my final breath, I want to close my eyes, and see the faces of the people whose lives I've affect. I want to be able to find solace in knowing I did everything in my power to change the world, using all of the assets at my disposal. I want to rest in peace.
When and if judgment comes, you won't be asked on how much money you made, how popular you were, or where you went to college. You'll be asked how much you loved, what you accomplished, and how you did it. That is what's truly important.
Again, thank you so much.
