Hey guys,
So i was working on my yale supplement essay. here is the topic:
You have already told us about yourself in the Common Application, with its list of activities, Short Answer, and Personal Essay. In this required second essay, tell us something that you would like us to know about you that we might not get from the rest of your application - or something that you would like a chance to say more about. Please limit your essay to fewer than 500 words.
i was thinking about being creative and writing about my love for books and literature and how reading affects my outlook on life, many of the decisions i make, what i'm passionate about, lessons i've learned, etc.
i just wanted to know if this was a suitable topic for this prompt.
i thought about starting it off with comparing life and books.
i've already written an essay somewhat like this for my contemp. lit. class. (see below). i'd really appreciate it if you could critique it (i know its not perfect grammar wise and such, just pay attention to the conceptual aspect, please).
thank you so much and good luck on your admissions as well
There it sat, innocently waiting for the unassuming passerby to fall prisoner to its deceivingly beautiful exterior. Like a magnet, it pulls those with a curious mind, pulling them away from all rational thought or reason into its bosom. Up the tall flight of stairs leading to the doom of their existence, they rose, these minuscule figures with the urge to touch, sense, smell, see everything this mystery had to offer. Once inside, the travelers encountered the objects, hundreds, even thousands of them, lined up close to each other. They were so close and so plentiful that there was no space between them. They sat spine to spine, completely rigid. They were housed in hollows, as tall as the structure itself, lined up from wall to wall. One curious traveler, stepping closer to these hollows, discovered that an unusual lettering covering them. Each and every single one had a unique pattern of these symbols, branding them. Slowly inching it out of its home, running her fingers along the cover, turning it over and over in her hands trying to makes sense of it. What exactly it was, no one could tell. It was part of another world, another journey. It was abstract, yet concrete. It was a code to be deciphered, its meaning only discovered for those worthy enough of realizing. She slowly pulls open the cover, the yellowed pages reeking of ages of experience. It has seen so much, been through so much. One can only hope to live past its influence, its sphere of intellect. One crack was all it took. Without understanding the true significance of her folly, she had become prisoner, prisoner of literature, prisoner of imagination, of allusions, of contemplation. She had become trapped in the pages of a book.
From a very young age, I have been an avid reader, a bibliophile even. Any genre, any author, any character, captured my attention and I'd instantly fall in love. I sympathized with animals in Carl Hiaasen's Hoot, which pioneered my environmentalist views. My love for art sprouted with Chasing Vermeer. I learned virtues and morals along with Brother and Sister Bear. I developed a love for learning new cultures in the Magic Tree House series and Esperanza Rising. I experienced the cruelty of conformity in The Hidden. I learned to be proud of my culture in Born Confused.
Books are an essential part of my life, my psyche, my entire existence. From the time I arrived in America at the tender age of four, to this past weekend, books have shaped by life. They provide an escape from reality, into the deep blue seas of the little mermaid, the magical mayhem of harry potter, the romance of pride and prejudice, characteristics never found in the busy life of a high school senior.
So i was working on my yale supplement essay. here is the topic:
You have already told us about yourself in the Common Application, with its list of activities, Short Answer, and Personal Essay. In this required second essay, tell us something that you would like us to know about you that we might not get from the rest of your application - or something that you would like a chance to say more about. Please limit your essay to fewer than 500 words.
i was thinking about being creative and writing about my love for books and literature and how reading affects my outlook on life, many of the decisions i make, what i'm passionate about, lessons i've learned, etc.
i just wanted to know if this was a suitable topic for this prompt.
i thought about starting it off with comparing life and books.
i've already written an essay somewhat like this for my contemp. lit. class. (see below). i'd really appreciate it if you could critique it (i know its not perfect grammar wise and such, just pay attention to the conceptual aspect, please).
thank you so much and good luck on your admissions as well
There it sat, innocently waiting for the unassuming passerby to fall prisoner to its deceivingly beautiful exterior. Like a magnet, it pulls those with a curious mind, pulling them away from all rational thought or reason into its bosom. Up the tall flight of stairs leading to the doom of their existence, they rose, these minuscule figures with the urge to touch, sense, smell, see everything this mystery had to offer. Once inside, the travelers encountered the objects, hundreds, even thousands of them, lined up close to each other. They were so close and so plentiful that there was no space between them. They sat spine to spine, completely rigid. They were housed in hollows, as tall as the structure itself, lined up from wall to wall. One curious traveler, stepping closer to these hollows, discovered that an unusual lettering covering them. Each and every single one had a unique pattern of these symbols, branding them. Slowly inching it out of its home, running her fingers along the cover, turning it over and over in her hands trying to makes sense of it. What exactly it was, no one could tell. It was part of another world, another journey. It was abstract, yet concrete. It was a code to be deciphered, its meaning only discovered for those worthy enough of realizing. She slowly pulls open the cover, the yellowed pages reeking of ages of experience. It has seen so much, been through so much. One can only hope to live past its influence, its sphere of intellect. One crack was all it took. Without understanding the true significance of her folly, she had become prisoner, prisoner of literature, prisoner of imagination, of allusions, of contemplation. She had become trapped in the pages of a book.
From a very young age, I have been an avid reader, a bibliophile even. Any genre, any author, any character, captured my attention and I'd instantly fall in love. I sympathized with animals in Carl Hiaasen's Hoot, which pioneered my environmentalist views. My love for art sprouted with Chasing Vermeer. I learned virtues and morals along with Brother and Sister Bear. I developed a love for learning new cultures in the Magic Tree House series and Esperanza Rising. I experienced the cruelty of conformity in The Hidden. I learned to be proud of my culture in Born Confused.
Books are an essential part of my life, my psyche, my entire existence. From the time I arrived in America at the tender age of four, to this past weekend, books have shaped by life. They provide an escape from reality, into the deep blue seas of the little mermaid, the magical mayhem of harry potter, the romance of pride and prejudice, characteristics never found in the busy life of a high school senior.
