Tell us why you chose this campus (NYU New York) in 700 words.
Neck craning just enough to allow the small tips of my hair to kiss my eyelids, eyes flicking rapidly between the beautifully intimidating historic cement and mortar, and pupils widening ever so slightly to take in the vast and absolute wonder that is New York City as I take solid, measured steps across the beaten and battered walkway, careful not to miss a single thing while maneuvering through the rushing crowds. The light dances between the windowpanes at every angle, sparkling brilliantly as if it knows just how to embody the life of this thriving metropolis.
"C'mon, we're going to be late for the tour!"
My father's voice struggles to make the trip to my ears between the roar of the people and my foggy, awed state. I speed up my steps in an attempt to keep pace with his while we rush to the subway.
"They sure don't have anything like this at home, huh?"
No, they certainly don't, I thought. My thoughts flicker back to the vast desert I've known all my life which by far paled in comparison. His excitement mirrors my own as the impatience for the arrival of the subway car grew. What others regard as mundane, need-based transportation screeches to a sharp halt in front of me, I saw only as my most thrilling adventure yet. The doors open and the riders pour out, as synchronized and fluidly as tipping milk out of the carton.
The campus, like everything else in the city, did not fail to disappoint. As the guide directs us through the halls and buildings of the institution, my awe-like state returns, more powerfully than ever. I could feel my passion grow with every syllable the guide spoke. The buildings, the classes, the prestige: I was hooked.
The flight home is a long one, filled with endless daydreams of what I could only hope would one day become reality. As the plane hits the runway, the familiar mountains and rust-stained earth welcome me home, but I can't shake the feeling that this isn't where I belong. The lights of the Strip glow just as bright, but the love I feel towards them is more of a loyalty to my home rather than the immense passion I feel for New York City.
Years pass, filled with challenging exams, well-earned rewards, playful times, and the always present chaos of life. The time soon came when classes began to center around future plans and the upcoming college life. The one question everyone asks surrounds me: where are you going to college? Every single time, the images of my adventure in New York City and daydreams of attending New York University fill my imagination. My friends become numb to the excitement I felt, after hearing my life being mapped out so perfectly in my dream city, attending my dream school, over and over again. I cannot be tamed; I am a woman on a mission, stopping at nothing to achieve my dreams.
Then, finally, the application is opened. I leave the webpage open on my screen for days, staring at the questions. My fingers shake with the anxiety of it all as I fill the boxes with my story, and they shake now as I write this. My dreams on the line, I know I have to give it absolutely everything I have.
The entire city is a masterpiece fashioned with only the boldest colors, and I, like so many others before me, was seduced by the beauty.
Neck craning just enough to allow the small tips of my hair to kiss my eyelids, eyes flicking rapidly between the beautifully intimidating historic cement and mortar, and pupils widening ever so slightly to take in the vast and absolute wonder that is New York City as I take solid, measured steps across the beaten and battered walkway, careful not to miss a single thing while maneuvering through the rushing crowds. The light dances between the windowpanes at every angle, sparkling brilliantly as if it knows just how to embody the life of this thriving metropolis.
"C'mon, we're going to be late for the tour!"
My father's voice struggles to make the trip to my ears between the roar of the people and my foggy, awed state. I speed up my steps in an attempt to keep pace with his while we rush to the subway.
"They sure don't have anything like this at home, huh?"
No, they certainly don't, I thought. My thoughts flicker back to the vast desert I've known all my life which by far paled in comparison. His excitement mirrors my own as the impatience for the arrival of the subway car grew. What others regard as mundane, need-based transportation screeches to a sharp halt in front of me, I saw only as my most thrilling adventure yet. The doors open and the riders pour out, as synchronized and fluidly as tipping milk out of the carton.
The campus, like everything else in the city, did not fail to disappoint. As the guide directs us through the halls and buildings of the institution, my awe-like state returns, more powerfully than ever. I could feel my passion grow with every syllable the guide spoke. The buildings, the classes, the prestige: I was hooked.
The flight home is a long one, filled with endless daydreams of what I could only hope would one day become reality. As the plane hits the runway, the familiar mountains and rust-stained earth welcome me home, but I can't shake the feeling that this isn't where I belong. The lights of the Strip glow just as bright, but the love I feel towards them is more of a loyalty to my home rather than the immense passion I feel for New York City.
Years pass, filled with challenging exams, well-earned rewards, playful times, and the always present chaos of life. The time soon came when classes began to center around future plans and the upcoming college life. The one question everyone asks surrounds me: where are you going to college? Every single time, the images of my adventure in New York City and daydreams of attending New York University fill my imagination. My friends become numb to the excitement I felt, after hearing my life being mapped out so perfectly in my dream city, attending my dream school, over and over again. I cannot be tamed; I am a woman on a mission, stopping at nothing to achieve my dreams.
Then, finally, the application is opened. I leave the webpage open on my screen for days, staring at the questions. My fingers shake with the anxiety of it all as I fill the boxes with my story, and they shake now as I write this. My dreams on the line, I know I have to give it absolutely everything I have.
The entire city is a masterpiece fashioned with only the boldest colors, and I, like so many others before me, was seduced by the beauty.