Prompt: The quality of Rice's academic life and the Residential College System are heavily influenced by the unique life experiences and cultural traditions each student brings. What personal perspective would you contribute to life at Rice? (500 word limit)
Essay:
Is it only the sum of its physical parts such as the bowl, the oats, and the milk or is there some mental or emotional piece, such as satisfaction, that completes the idea of cereal. If cereal can be described fully by its material parts, then it begs the question, when does a bowl of cereal become a bowl of cereal? Is milk a necessary ingredient, apart from other liquids, for cereal to truly become cereal, and if so, how much? A drop? A Gallon? Who gets to dictate that choice and if it's the individual who is eating the cereal, how can we truly trust our judgment when nothing can be known for certain as rational skepticism dictates (at least outside of mathematical proofs). Of course, I can't forget about questions such as Why, near the end of eating a bowl of cereal, do the oats seem to gravitate to each other, forming clumps along the edges and middle of the bowl and What chemical indicators on the cereal allow me to taste it and describe it as "good" or "tasty"?
I could go on and on but I'm sure at this point I'm being already perceived as a rather unconventional applicant. I mean, the metaphysical and scientific inquiries of a bowl of cereal are not by any means a subject of interest for any sane person. I mean a bowl of cereal is mundane, trivial even. But that's the thing. I'm not sane.
I have a thing for the trivial. A certain appreciation for the things overlooked and underappreciated by the bulk of society. It's an obsession of mine and one particularly hard to escape from. There are so many trivial things in the world. The chirps and hums of the night are trivial. The happy clunk of a toaster and the furniture of a room are all trivial. Well, In the grand scheme of things, the whole world is trivial, I suppose. I, for one, don't care, I love it.
The trivial, to me, is where knowledge truly resides. In the chirps and hums of the night, I find the knowledge of organisms' instinctual desires to carry on genetic material and continue evolutionary progress. In the happy clunk of a toaster, I find a potential research venture on the right conditions to create a perfectly golden-brown piece of toast. In the choices of furniture, I find how environmental and cultural pressures can translate into personal and artistic expression and enjoyment. Its tiring work but its work I'm more than happy to embark on.
At Rice I bring the perspective and scholarly psycho, a person so enamored by the trivial that his world is covered by it, outlook defined by it and life thriving upon it.
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Is there anyway I can imporve this essay?
Essay:
What makes a bowl of cereal?
Is it only the sum of its physical parts such as the bowl, the oats, and the milk or is there some mental or emotional piece, such as satisfaction, that completes the idea of cereal. If cereal can be described fully by its material parts, then it begs the question, when does a bowl of cereal become a bowl of cereal? Is milk a necessary ingredient, apart from other liquids, for cereal to truly become cereal, and if so, how much? A drop? A Gallon? Who gets to dictate that choice and if it's the individual who is eating the cereal, how can we truly trust our judgment when nothing can be known for certain as rational skepticism dictates (at least outside of mathematical proofs). Of course, I can't forget about questions such as Why, near the end of eating a bowl of cereal, do the oats seem to gravitate to each other, forming clumps along the edges and middle of the bowl and What chemical indicators on the cereal allow me to taste it and describe it as "good" or "tasty"?
I could go on and on but I'm sure at this point I'm being already perceived as a rather unconventional applicant. I mean, the metaphysical and scientific inquiries of a bowl of cereal are not by any means a subject of interest for any sane person. I mean a bowl of cereal is mundane, trivial even. But that's the thing. I'm not sane.
I have a thing for the trivial. A certain appreciation for the things overlooked and underappreciated by the bulk of society. It's an obsession of mine and one particularly hard to escape from. There are so many trivial things in the world. The chirps and hums of the night are trivial. The happy clunk of a toaster and the furniture of a room are all trivial. Well, In the grand scheme of things, the whole world is trivial, I suppose. I, for one, don't care, I love it.
The trivial, to me, is where knowledge truly resides. In the chirps and hums of the night, I find the knowledge of organisms' instinctual desires to carry on genetic material and continue evolutionary progress. In the happy clunk of a toaster, I find a potential research venture on the right conditions to create a perfectly golden-brown piece of toast. In the choices of furniture, I find how environmental and cultural pressures can translate into personal and artistic expression and enjoyment. Its tiring work but its work I'm more than happy to embark on.
At Rice I bring the perspective and scholarly psycho, a person so enamored by the trivial that his world is covered by it, outlook defined by it and life thriving upon it.
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Is there anyway I can imporve this essay?