<p>With only five days left, I’m ridiculously nervous. I’ve only heard from one school (a backup-Fordham, in with a full ride), which is slightly reassuring, but it’s my seventh choice out of eight… </p>
<p>Here are my “stats”:</p>
<p>GPA: 99.19 out of 100, weighted
Rank: 3 out of 263
Summa cum laude</p>
<p>SAT I: 720 Reading, 710 Math, 790 Writing
SAT II: 710 Math II, 760 Literature
AP Exams: 5 on Calculus AB, 5 on English Language and Composition</p>
<p>Always took highest level math, english, and science classes available, diverse array of electives (theatre, textiles and sewing, human anatomy and drawing the figure, fashion design)</p>
<p>ACTIVITIES
*Founder, composer, and choreographer of my school’s glee club
*Actor (leads) and makeup artist in semi-professional theatre company (2 years)
*Professional (paid) freelance writer for online publication with over 2 million hits/week
*Professional blogger/vlogger (own self-published/created online blog and YouTube channel, updated daily; weekly PR work)
*Played Clarinet for 4 years
*Took two 4 credit courses at Harvard last summer (Intro to Psych: B, Acting-Developing a Character: A)
*Epee fencer with RIFAC national team, C- rated nationally when last participated
*Host/server at Le Central bistro (four years) and Belle Mer catering company (one year)
*Tutor for Calculus AB, Precalculus, Algebra II, and Physics students (one year)
*Study Russian privately, spent 9 days in Moscow a month ago</p>
<p>I have a great relationship with both of my recommenders.</p>
<p>I feel that my writing is really solid. Here’s my intro to my Common App Essay (a bit of it is lost without the italics…):</p>
<pre><code> “You amateur! You nobody!” Her words are damped by the plush velvet curtains that obscure the mirrored walls lining the underbelly of the Loeb theatre.
The audience falls silent; tears still seep from between my lids, which are squeezed tightly against the glaring light of the stand lamps and my mother’s furor. My lips are bitter with salt. A few seconds pass.
I feel hands on my knees, on my face. She tilts my chin up.
“Stop crying. There’s no need to cry…” A harshness still pervades her words, a remnant of acid stuck in her throat. I keep my eyes downcast. I have more talent than all of you put together! Again the words burn themselves across my vision. This time, however, I hold my tongue.
</code></pre>
<p>Just a bit of critique or judgement would be greatly appreciated!!</p>