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HvePassion · December 17, 2014, 10:27pm

I GOT INTO UCHICAGO WITH SHITTY LAST MINUTE ESSAYS. ESSAYS ARE NOT THAT IMPORTANT EVERYONE.

UNTRANSLATE-ABLE WORD PROMPT:

“David? He’s what we call a tu hao (土豪) in Chinese.”

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“He’s really rich, like the nouveau riche kind. But at the same time, he’s unattractive and
short. Quite profligate too. Rumours are that his family made tens of millions of dollars almost
overnight! Last time I went to his house, I saw a row of Gucci shoes lined up in his room.”

“So he’s kind of the opposite of gao fu shuai (高富帅)?”
“Well, gao fu shuai is the kind of guy that every mainland Chinese girl aspires to tie the
knot with. Tall, insanely wealthy, AND good looking. But tu hao refers to guys who are…garishly
rich in a way.”

“So kind of like the West Egg residents in The Great Gatsby.”

“Basically. On the other hand, diao si (吊丝) is the exact opposite of gao fu shuai. People
who are referred to as “diao si” are not like the second-generation affluent Chinese kids who
benefit from their parents’ hard work and social privilege. Nor are they good looking and tall.
Diao si are regular commoners, plebeians - whatever you would like to call them.”

During our many studying sessions, my friend Benjamin enlightens me on the new, “hip” terms
currently trending in mainland China. Many of these words have a comedic connotation to them,
but also in some ways, encapsulate the problems of modern Chinese society.

In particular, the world diao si aptly reflects Chinese youth’s response to China’s growing wealth
disparities and emphasis on materialism. Diao si is a slang term that originated from mainland
China, used primarily by society’s “unprivileged losers” for self-deprecation. Yet, when the term
went viral on the Internet, young people of all socio-economic backgrounds began to embrace it.
Now, it functions as an descriptor of Chinese citizens who face everyday struggles and hardships.
I suppose I am what people would label a 女吊丝 - a female diao si. I am not exactly attractive to
the point where I have herds of teenage males vying for my affection, nor do I come from a family
where golden caviar is regularly served as appetizer.

Do I sometimes envy my wealthier friends who are able to eat out without worrying about money?
Those who don’t have to work fifteen hour shifts on weekends at Chinese buffet restaurants? And
those who have the luxury of traveling to exotic locations that I’ve only ever seen on magazines?
I would be fibbing if I said I didn’t. But rather than thousand dollar Gucci shoes, first class airlines,
or sundaes topped with edible gold, I would instead prefer to live the humble life of a diao si.

And why?

I relish the process of working towards achieving a goal. When I was in grade five, I desperately
wanted to become the proud owner of a Tamagotchi toy. My parents told me that if I wanted
something, I must earn it. For four months, I worked a newspaper route and was able to not only
procure a limited edition Tamagotchi, but also generate some savings for my college fund. If I had
everything handed to me on a silver platter, would I have ever experienced the pride in
accomplishing a feat, however miniscule it may be?

If I do succeed, I want to attribute it to my own determination and perseverance. Diao si are
young people who don’t have Fortune 500 company-owning moguls or radiologists as their
parents. What we lack in social privileges, we make up threefold with our hard-work.

I want to enjoy life with all its ups and downs, tribulations, and delights. I don’t want to live a life
that is governed by superficial consumption and desires. I want to live with a never-satisfied
curiosity and desire to question the things around me. I want to live with zest, passion, and fervor -
I want to live doing things not for their face value, but simply because I love doing it. I want to
celebrate not only the good moments in life, but also the bad. I want to be able to really see and
appreciate the little details in life (like that time when I fortuitously found the novel I’ve been
dying to read at a random thrift store).

There is no cultural equivalent of diao si in the English language. Although the problem of wealth
disparity is prevalent in most countries, Asian cultures place an unhealthily strong emphasis on the
effect family backgrounds has on future success. In America, though the divide between the rich
and poor is still quite evident, the founding principle is that of equal opportunity and personal
merit. This is simply not the case in Asian society, where the vocation of a job applicant’s parent
is still used as a mandatory criterion during the evaluation process.

This is also where the word diao si is making definite and rapid strides. It’s uniting the long
ignored, and mostly silent underdogs of Chinese society and altering our generation’s attitude
towards success. Gone are the days where success was predominantly determined and defined by
the wealth and social standing of one’s family. Gone are the times where instant gratification and
hedonism were the ultimate goals of teenagers. Diao si has ushered in a crucial appreciation for
personal merit and the importance of hard work to achieve success. It is about being courageous in
the face of failure, and about being able to celebrate both the obstacles and triumphs encountered
in life.

The youth of China are now eager to call themselves diao si, taking pride in hardship and struggle.
As the popular saying goes in China: “谁还想当高富帅? 我宁愿做吊丝!” (Who still wants be
gao fu shuai? I would rather be diao si!)

HvePassion · December 17, 2014, 10:27pm

WHY UCHICAGO:

On yet another one of these depressingly gloomy Raincouver days, I laid on my bed, watching
Youtube videos. No, I wasn’t giggling at the adorableness of Denver the Guilty Dog or fangirling over
Harvey from Suits – I was watching “Hey Mitch, Tell Us a Joke”.

“Um…umm…what do you call a bear with no teeth?”

“A gummy bear! Cause he has no teeth so he is a bear with only gums…har har har.”

“What do you call a cow with no legs?” (cue devilishly smug expression)

“Ground beef! Ha!”

Mitch’s amiability and slight awkwardness on top of his hilariously lame jokes made me attracted to
UChicago immediately. I wanted to learn more about this quirky and personable school and before I
knew it, one video turned into five, and five videos into twenty.

I attentively absorbed the information in the Mitch Tips episodes, had my uncertainty and doubts
resolved by the ViewChicago series, and learned about UChicago’s unique Core Curriculum through
the animated videos. My heart skipped a few beats faster than usual and I felt giddy with excitement –
this was the school I’ve been searching for all this time.

I am seventeen years old. Although I have a relatively good idea of what I would like to pursue in the
future, the idea of being limited to one field of study for four years is a little disheartening. As avid as
I am about Shakespearean plays and classics, I also recognize the intrinsic value of mathematical
reasoning. Throwing in a second language (study abroad anyone?), and a few science courses
wouldn’t hurt too! I am excited by the idea of being a “Econ-Gender Studies”, or perhaps even a
“Creative Writing-Geography” double major. After four years of UChicago, I am certain that I will
walk out with passions I would’ve otherwise never discovered.

As cliche as it may sound, I want to learn for learning’s sake. I am fired by a desire to understand, to
question the things that define human civilization. Rather than attending an institution with a
pre-professional bent, I would instead prefer a school that will further cultivate my love for learning.
The passion and thirst for knowledge permeates every corner of UChicago – from its diverse student
body, to the stimulating discussions encouraged in the classroom. More than anything else, I know
that UChicago is definitely not “where fun goes to die”, for learning is joy in itself!

The Ballroom and Latin Dance Association, Debate Society, The Dean’s Men, the Committee on
International Affairs and Public Policy…there are so many activities I want to pursue at UChicago,
and so much I aspire to learn from faculty members and peers alike.

UChicago, I know you are the school for me – am I the one for you?

(So cheesy, I know. But if I do get into UChicago, I definitely want to help Mitch make these Youtube
videos.)

Davidleo · December 18, 2014, 6:05am

Accepted :)

Is loooong. Be prepared.

What is so odd about odd numbers?

With one definition of odd meaning unusual or rare, it is easy to see why odd numbers are inferred as being odd. Odd numbers are in fact zero percent of the total of real numbers due to the infinite amount of rational numbers and therefore very unusual. On the other hand they are 50% of the integers. Since odd numbers are exactly as rare or normal as even numbers, why are they the numbers that are labeled “odd”?

One conclusion that can be drawn from the labeling of odd numbers as “odd” is that the absence of parity is, or at least was at some point, considered odd by the standards of the English language. Going on a small journey through some important historical documents and focusing our attention on the idea that the number one, an odd number, symbolizing an individual and the number two, an even number, symbolizing a couple will show us the possible origins of this idea.

The first passage I believe worth looking at is from the Bible, which is arguably the most influential book in human history. Genesis 2:24 states:
"Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.”
The term “one flesh” suggests that two previously incomplete entities will cease to exist individually and combine becoming a single new unit as a married couple.

Moving on to the Greek philosopher Plato, another bastion of western civilization and philosophic development, we find a passage where he states that humans used to be androgynous beings with two faces, four legs, four arms and everything else in pairs. But they were so strong that they attempted to attack the Gods. Therefore, Zeus cut them in half so that they would spend the rest of their lives looking for their other half in order to be complete again.
Asian mythology shares the idea of parity as coming from a single unit. As you can see with myths such as the “red string of faith”, the idea that everyone has a soul mate is present in a wide array of cultures. A primary belief of Taoism is the concept of yin and yang, which maintains that opposite or contrary forces are actually complementary. This ontological dualism is not only present but also fundamental in most of the philosophical development in China.

Bringing the discussion to more recent times, it is possible to see in a few legal documents the importance of the couple and the dismissal of the individual in society. The Colombian constitution states: "The family is the basic unit of society. It is formed on the basis of the free decision of a man and woman to contract matrimony ". The United Nations also holds that definition.

So if the individual is not the basic unit of society by himself then that leaves him in an odd position. Society looks at him as a strange and rare entity. This bias is also evident in more informal interactions such as your aunt asking you why are you still single… EVERY SINGLE TIME.

The oddity of the odd numbers could then be explained originating from the idea that the smallest basic unit is a pair , making by extension all odd numbers impossible to divide in units without a remainder, being useful as counting numbers but not satisfying the definition of integer at the same time.

But when this analysis goes beyond a thinking exercise for a college application and starts affecting the way society views and shapes itself, we should take a second look to what language implies.

in an age where complains about individualism being dominant are common , we are filled with vestigial laws that hurt individuals and favor couples. In most countries couples receive huge tax and legal benefits at the expense of single individuals.

This fact is clear and there not much to argue, but still is not considered a problem anywhere. Homosexuals, African Americans and other minorities were seen at one time as odd individuals who did not have the same rights as others and governmental structural discrimination was the norm. Legal discrimination against singles exists today due to the idea that family and not the individual is the basic unit of society, but I expect that to change in the coming years.

shelbybt · December 19, 2014, 12:55am

Here’s my uncommon essay - I chose the untranslatable word prompt. I was accepted.

Ancient Romans are not known for their stellar treatment of women. For the republic and the aqueduct, perhaps, but equality? Not so much. In fact, Roman treatment of the female sex was notoriously bad. Even the women thought it normal that they weren’t men’s equals. And, as is so often the case with such important aspects of a culture, that sexism is reflected throughout their entire language. Muliebris, meaning womanly or feminine, was a synonym for weak. The word for adulteress simultaneously meant slut, while the masculine version of the word meant only a man who slept with people not his wife – a common and accepted practice. Commasculo meant both becoming courageous and becoming manly, as if the two were somehow related.

While these are poignant examples of the sexism that is infused into Latin, I wouldn’t say any of them earn the title “Most Sexist Word.” That designation, in my opinion, goes to pudor.

Pudor doesn’t mean what you might think. In English, it’s hard to encapsulate the full expanse of its significance - in that way, to an extent, it’s untranslatable. It encompasses chastity, purity, shame and modesty, and is something applicable to all parts of life, from marriage to war. In English, there is no word that conveys all that pudor means.

But even if there was no difficulty translating pudor, I would still argue that it should never be incorporated into English, because its real significance and weight lies in the culture and mindset of those who use it. Pudor was considered one of the essential virtues for any woman in Rome. If a woman did not preserve her pudor, she was shunned by society and punished by her husband. It was used to control women, to make sure they focused on child bearing and keeping house instead of being an active member of society and government. In fact, the most revered and important women of Rome, the Vestal Virgins, swore an oath specifically to preserve their pudor - no men and no sex. If you broke the oath, you were buried alive. If that isn’t the quintessential example of Roman sexism, I don’t know what is.

We don’t need that in our society. Even if we had the ability to translate the full meaning of pudor, cultural significance and all, we shouldn’t. Because, even though pudor hasn’t been used in daily language since the fall of the Roman Empire, women are still fighting for their rights. Women are still jumping hurdles, and women are still being told by society what they should and shouldn’t be and do. Don’t care too much about your appearance, but look like the airbrushed models of advertisements. Don’t show emotion because then you can’t handle it, but don’t be a cold b*tch. Don’t be a cougar and don’t be a gold digger, but a man who lands either is praised. Add a word that further limits what a woman can and can’t do, allow women to be shunned and harmed for not conforming to that ideal, and you push back the progress that we have made in the way women are treated. We are not in Ancient Rome, but we are not in a utopia either, and we still have a long way to go for equality. We do not need to get sexism from Rome. We have enough of that all by ourselves.

ProximaCentauri · December 20, 2014, 4:45am

Congrats to all who were admitted to the Class of 2019!!!

As a RD applicant this year, I beseech your kind advice on the word limit of UChicago essays. I’ve written a Sci-Fi for the main essay (tried to fit it to one of the prompts but may ultimately create my own) that is now 990ish words. I learned that UChicago didn’t have that “500 words suggested” last year, so I believe they may have received some long but poor essays which made them add that suggestion in. Although I’m confident in my essay, I’m concerned that they might still look down upon me for surpassing the word limit by almost 500 words. So for admitted students this year, how long were your main essay, or the other two essays?

rpwehp12 · December 20, 2014, 2:59pm

My main essay (pH) was 750 words (about 2 pages double spaced). I was worried about it getting too long, so I cut stuff that was extraneous but didn’t try to get it down to 500 words- as long as everything in the essay fits and is relevant, I feel like it is okay. My Why Chicago essay was just a little shorter.

crtexxx · December 21, 2014, 4:21am

What’s so odd about odd numbers

Nomia, a faraway land, is home to walking, talking, thinking, and scientifically competent even numbers.
One day, 22, one of the extremely scientifically competent numbers, finishes his Personiscope, an invention which supposedly reveals a number’s greatest intellectual talents and passions. 22 envisions numbers, from the beginning of their lives, pursuing successful, enjoyable careers from square one!
As 22’s test subjects walk into his laboratory, he quickly ushers them to the testing room, hastily assembling them into order.
“Over here! After today, nothing will ever again be the same!” he exclaims to a ruffled 148.
“Sit right there,” he waves to a panting 3154.
When all is in order, 22 eagerly aims the Personiscope at each test subject in turn, whilst scribbling on his notepad and muttering to himself.
“How remarkable!” A huge grin stretches 22’s face.
Through the Personiscope, each number seems to possess a distinct aura, with ghostly shapes floating within. These shapes 22 identifies as the ten digits. Through the Personiscope, these ten figures are like numbers within numbers.
“How odd,” 22 ponders.
After several years of careful research, 22 today presents his discovery of “prime factors” of numbers, and the diversity that odd numbers confer (for this he wins a Nomial Prize and becomes a Nomial Laurette faculty member at the University of Nomia).
Moreover, he realizes that a number’s prime factorization, the set of numbers visible in his of her aura through the Personiscope, elucidates that number’s entire personality, not just intellectual promise.
“All of us share the even prime factor 2, but the other factors we have are all odd. Since I’ve mentioned there exists an infinite number of odd primes, there are that many potential prime factorizations!”
Using each number’s prime factorization, revealed by my Personiscope, we can discover, in general terms, what makes a number special," 22 concludes.
The audience explodes into applause.
Meanwhile, on Earth, I telepathically congratulate 22.
Our planet lacks a Personiscope, but it’s still similar to Nomia. Each person is an even number. Our common prime of 2 is humanity. But as 2 is the only even prime, our inner diversity must be determined by our assortment of odd primes, which are myriad. Each individual has a distinct set of prime factors. And this set doesn’t just elucidate intellectual promise. This set is what makes us happy, sad, laugh, cry. It’s our dreams and aspirations, principles and morals. Whilst the even prime factor confers commonalities amongst us, odd prime factors generate oddities between individuals. Perhaps that’s why they’re so odd.
Upon reflection, a Personiscope would be really cool, but I wouldn’t use it. For me, choosing amongst life paths and careers is an adventure. Had I known I had great potential to excel in, say (pick something I know love doing), chess, in kindergarten, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it nearly as much as I do now; self-discovery after wandering gives me that rare sense of epiphany, giving value to the finding of my inner oddities.
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presque · December 21, 2014, 9:49pm

my ‘uncommon’ Starbucks essay. i loved this, thought it was basically me talking in writing. accepted. also, i was way over 1000 words so my ending is terrible and rushed and a little cliche. SORRY.

“Why are you here?” prompt. I also wrote about Jurassic Park and Neil Gaiman for the media one, and babbled on about the Blackhawks for a bit for Why UChicago.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The venti iced, nonfat, no whip pumpkin spice latte spills across the floor in what seems like a tragedy in slow motion –– I wince from behind the counter, already grabbing a mop to clean up the mess. Stepping delicately towards the orange puddle, which has already started to consume everything in its path, I quickly identify the perpetrator.

She looks up, and doesn’t even bother to say sorry, skipping right to:

“I spilled my drink. I get a new one, right?”

I smile beatifically, pointing her in the direction of one of my coworkers.

“Of course, m’am. Sergio will help you right over there.”

Her young son then attempts to help me mop up the mess with a bunch of napkins, which is adorable, but she scoops him up and tells him very seriously ––

“You don’t need to help her, Trevor. That’s her job.”

My smile has fallen a little bit now. She continues in a mock whisper.

“That’s what happens when you don’t work hard in school, sweetie.”

The smile has now completely slipped off my face. I finish mopping, muster up the last bit of my Customer Service smile, and shoot it at the woman as fiercely as I can. She seems taken aback by my positivity. Fabulous. I refuse to be defeated on my own turf, and I end the encounter definitively.

“Have a nice day!”

The truth is this: I really do love my job.

The most logical response to an encounter as offensive as the one mentioned above would be what I have heard murmured under the espresso machines many a time, something along the lines of “people like that make me hate my job so much.” And I don’t blame anyone who says that. It’s not easy to have to continually explain that it is not in your ability to decrease Starbucks’ coffee prices, to have to tell someone that they cannot borrow money from the tip jar, or to split up an increasingly violent lovers’ quarrel in your store lobby (which I eventually had to call in the police to help me do).

Sometimes it is difficult to come into a workplace where a majority of the customers assume that simply because I work minimum wage, I must be a high school dropout and an imbecile. But even though it hurts, I think there is beauty in the misconception. I’ve always done well in school, but when I began working at Starbucks none of that mattered. The grading system was how good of a latte I could make, how well I could engage with the customers, how thorough I was when cleaning different parts of the store. I started at a flat level zero just like everyone else, and had to work my way up. The respect I got from adults for being a “good kid” didn’t apply here: I was just a vehicle to provide people with coffee, and oftentimes that meant being treated like a coffee servant (a few months ago, someone called me that. Verbatim, I swear.)

In a sense, that’s what I love my job for. I love my job for allowing me to meet an entire spectrum of people, and our rudest customers, our weirdest encounters, are an essential part of that spectrum. It used to be that all I knew was the lives of teenagers, which are largely revolved around romantic conquests and quarter grades. But what customer service does to a sixteen-year-old is it demands that you face the world outside. I have coworkers who live paycheck-to-paycheck, who struggle with abusive parents, who have dropped out of high school because of drugs and since then have forced themselves to get their lives back together. So often we as teenagers are so self-absorbed in our own minuscule problems that we fail to remember in a few years we’ll have to survive on our own. There’s good in the world, but there is also a lot of bad, and Starbucks has introduced me to all of it. I can never thank my job enough for that.

Skipping back to present day: venti iced, nonfat, no whip pumpkin spice latte woman hobbles out of the store with her toddler still in tow. I breathe out a sigh of relief. People are sending me sympathetic looks. A lady who has just picked up her iced green tea smiles at me, and it’s a beautiful, real thing. I’m a little shocked by it. It’s hot outside, and that always translates to a million frappuccinos and stressed baristas (i.e. me). Sometimes I honestly do feel like a coffee robot, and then I see a smile like that.

“You guys do good things here. Thank you for being so bright and positive every day, even with customers, you know, like that.”

I laugh, delighted. Minutes later, I position myself behind the register again –– green apron spotless, hair pulled back, sharpie in hand. My shift supervisor ruffles my hair as he passes. I feel like I could take on the zombie apocalypse.

I’m here, alright? I’m a trooper, and I am damned ready for whatever the world wants to throw at me. (As long as it’s not coffee. That’s a story for another time, but if it happens again, I might really lose my composure.)

umbreon · December 21, 2014, 10:20pm

I am submitting a regular decision application.

Prompt: What’s so odd about odd numbers?

<pre><code> Any first grader can tell you that an odd number is any number that cannot be divided by the number two, as opposed to even numbers, which all have a common base—they are “odd”—unusual, unexpected, and strange—for this very reason, lacking a commonality with all other numbers, assuming the role of “outsiders” in the numerical world. Both “odd” people and “odd” numbers are reviled and shunned; often in mathematics, we desire “nice, even numbers” to use in calculations and we desire “nice, even people” to compose a neat society. Odd individuals throw a wrench into the works of both mathematics and society; the polynomial can no longer be factored, and the qualities of those that deviate from the norm assume a negative connotation. Odd numbers are really not all that odd, however.
My childhood and adolescence were characterized by my experiences as an odd person; I lacked the base that unified my peers and defined the in-group, the facets of my personality and character preventing my integration into the larger community. I didn’t like sports, I was reserved, I was gay, I was very introverted—all these factors that defined me worked against my position in society because they deviated too far from normal, expected characteristics. I was not only ostracized, but constantly belittled for possessing these traits as well. Rejection by the majority of one’s peers is painful and even traumatizing in early development; my self-esteem and self-respect were severely crippled and I tried to work against my “odd” nature: I tried to emulate the way my classmates spoke, behaved, and interacted with each other, ultimately failing to so drastically change myself. In my mind, my character acquired an undesirable cast—I was odd and I would be odd until I learned to behave evenly.
My perspective on oddness and the necessity to be even in order to achieve social acceptance changed after I graduated elementary school and started high school, however. I moved from a society of under 100 people to one of over 4000, a population of which only a fraction I would ever interact with, but which would still be many times greater than I had previously known. People in my elementary school class had been very much alike in general character, and had actively tried to fit into a common mold; in high school, the increase in population resulted in a great increase in diversity of character. My oddness seemed much less odd to me as I continued to encounter students who were just like me—I was as intellectual, unphysical, gay, and introverted as I had always been—yet I now found acceptance amongst groups of people where these traits were not unfortunate or restrictive, but a common factor, just as two is the base of all even numbers. Just as there are many multiples of three and five, no matter how odd one is, there will always be people who one can find similarities in—in perspective, in interests, and in personality. Odd numbers are really not so odd after all, because there will always exist numbers that are similar to them, that they can divide by and be divided by, and thus neither are odd people.
</code></pre>

crtexxx · December 22, 2014, 2:02am

@presque That was an amazing essay, a total pleasure to read!

presque · December 22, 2014, 10:22am

@crtexxx‌ thank you so much!! :x i was a little worried about the informality of it, but i’m glad i took the risk and just went with my gut.

if anyone wants to see any other essays, i’d be happy to show you the rest of mine! i honestly just want a reason to post the jurassic park one. it was difficult, but i managed to keep my gushing about jeff goldblum to a minimum.

ProximaCentauri · December 22, 2014, 1:08pm

@presque
The coffee one was absolutely well-written!
Just one question: did you take a risk of not touching upon the “but not somewhere else” part of the prompt, or was it a perfectly fine thing to do (well, judging from your results, it is indeed perfectly fine : ) )
And I’d love to see the Jurassic Park one too!

presque · December 22, 2014, 6:24pm

@ProximaCentauri‌ i interpreted it as me explaining why I’m still working at Starbucks despite how terrible customers can behave? I honestly stretched the prompt pretty far to accommodate my piece because I remember just coming home from work one day and saying: I’m going to write an essay about Starbucks, not really thinking about what response would fit what prompt. Honestly, the “why you are here?” prompt was probably the “get away with it easy” prompt because it’s so versatile. :)

Here’s my optional media essay. It’s also…very me. Kinda cheesy too. But I thought it was cute. So I guess my advice would be just to BE YOURSELF. (i also changed my name. just for privacy!)
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When my school was voting in senior superlatives, I asked if we could have one for “most intense Jurassic Park enthusiast”. People laughed, but my love for Jurassic Park is not a joke. I’ve probably watched the movie eight times; it was the first vaguely “scary” film I’d ever experienced, and I remember being absolutely awestruck and terrified by the dinosaurs stomping across my television screen. However, where I lost interest in a large part of the movies I watched as a child, Jurassic Park’s novelty has never faded for me.

In truth, I’ve always been fascinated by stories with huge monsters and fantastical settings –– Pacific Rim, Godzilla, and Inception, in terms of recent examples. I think deep within, all humans manifest their desire to achieve more in the genre of fantasy, their obsession with leaping over that boundary that divides reality and dreams, and that’s what makes certain movies so incredibly appealing to us. It’s not even necessarily confined to film. I have possibly the worst literary crush on Neil Gaiman, author of American Gods and Good Omens, as well as arguably the best living fantasy author (plus, he’s written for Doctor Who. And starred in a Simpsons episode. It really doesn’t get any better.) I am constantly obsessing over gods and goddesses of various mythologies, such as those of the Greek, Chinese, and Norse pantheons. Fantasy, magical realism… it’s all played a large part in defining how I approach the world. I don’t want to abide by preset rules –– there’s always space to stretch a little further, to redefine the word “impossible”. College is an arena that connects students to even greater experiences waiting on the outside, and I truly believe that the University of Chicago is the school that would provide me with those opportunities to flourish. If fantasy is a representation of the human desire to achieve, I want to act on that desire and transcend those boundaries. I don’t just want to achieve, I want to succeed at what I do.

I end this with a quote from Dr. Ian Malcolm, the undeniable star of Jurassic Park, portrayed by the lovely Jeff Goldblum: “If there is one thing the history of evolution has taught us, it’s that life will not be contained. Life breaks free, it expands to new territories and crashes through barriers, painfully, maybe even dangerously, but… life, uh, finds a way.”

Picture this: substitute “Christine” in for “life”, and leave the rest of the quote as is. See? Jurassic Park is applicable to everything.

NateChortek · December 22, 2014, 11:06pm

Here’s my “Why are you here?” essay! I was holding out on posting it, but I got accepted so why not? All of your guys’ essays are so amazing!

…
Why am I here? What does that mean? I envision myself standing in a mall, staring at that salient “YOU ARE HERE” dot on the directory map. My eyes slide to the key in the bottom-right corner of the map, and I work my way down the list of floors to remind myself where I am.

<pre><code> Floor A: Existential—Why do we, as human beings, exist?
Floor B: Moral—Why do I have the values and social mores I do?
Floor C: Mental/Cognitive—Why do I think or approach questions, problems, and issues the way I do?
I am, in fact, on Floor C.

I am here because I am on a journey, one with no final destination—only constant learning and growth. In this context, the “You are Here” dot is only somewhat helpful. It tells me my physical location, but it does nothing to tell me where I am going or how to get there. I must choose both the destination and the route for myself. I have always been one to ask questions, to dig deeper, and to debate (my parents might say I am here to plague them with argument). Hence, I know that whether I end up “here” or “somewhere else,” I intend to get there only after careful observation, thorough analysis, and due consideration.

Many experiences have shaped my need to question. I once was listening to a sermon that had gone on too long. I found myself thinking, why am I here? when the Rabbi said something I’d never forget: “Eilu Ve Eilu. These and those are the words of the living god. Here’s what the Torah says…Now, let’s talk about it.” Until that point, the words of the sermon had been puzzle pieces floating around my head. Some were rounded and others were flat and sharp; I couldn’t make them fit. But those words sang out—strive to gain a better understanding of nuanced issues, dig below the surface, debate alleged statements of truth, and view issues from various perspectives.

In my AP Literature class, we discussed The Things They Carried, by Tim O’Brien, a story in which a woman named Mary Anne rapidly descends from a lover and girlfriend into a savage warrior after being brought to Vietnam. Personally, I was appalled by the dark transformation, but many female students felt that she was admirable for breaking down the stereotype that women are weak and dependent on men.

At first I could not believe that anyone could be proud of the character’s development. But then I pictured all of us looking at that dot on the directory map. Mary Anne’s character was like a point in space; there were an infinite number of planes and lines running through it. We were all looking at the same dot, only we were viewing it from different angles (mine being the one without a double-X chromosome). I had forgotten to view the point from all perspectives—simply shifting my line to run parallel to my female classmates widened my understanding.

Equally important in my journey is digging below the surface. While that “YOU ARE HERE” dot professes my location with great authority, I am still left with questions. Do I know who put that dot there? How do I know I this person can be trusted? The dangers of accepting things at face value are myriad. For example, the store As Seen On TV sells a special protein shake that boldly claims to improve muscle gain by over fifty percent. I admit the first time I saw the advertisement at the mall I stopped, discreetly pulled my t-shirt’s collar away from my body, and looked down, flexing my non-existing pecs and abs. I actually thought, I think I’m thirsty…That protein shake is looking pretty appealing right now.

And, every Spring, at every grocery store check-out, the March of Dimes assaults the public with its drive to give dimes to help disabled children—unquestionably a worthy cause. Yet, research shows that the children receive only a relatively small percentage of each donation compared to what they would receive from other well-run charities. Should I purchase the shake? Obviously not. Should I find a charity that is more efficient? Perhaps.

While my physical location may vary day to day, one thing remains constant: my need to question. The word “here” comes from the Old English word, her, which translates to “in this place, where one puts himself.” “Here” should be deliberate—somewhere you chose to be. When I arrive at a conclusion or formulate a belief, I will only do so after I have considered all possible perspectives and conducted a thorough investigation with due diligence.

Why am I here? I am here to ask questions.
</code></pre>

NateChortek · December 22, 2014, 11:11pm

I’ll also post my common app. I wrote for the prompt asking about a story that is so central to my identity that my application would be incomplete without it. Also, I could post my two shorter essays…the Why UChicago? and the Favorites one (in which I talked about cardistry!). If you guys would like to see those, leave a comment letting me know!

Anywhooo, here’s my common app:
…

In the master bedroom of my house, a jar sits atop my parents’ dresser. It’s a green ceramic jar with a cork stopper—the kind you might buy at a kitschy souvenir shop on vacation. Printed across the outside of the jar are the words “Fishing Money.” From a young age I observed my father habitually drop a quarter inside it. His quest for quarters was constant and the appetite of that jar for coins seemed insatiable.

After many years of quarters going into the jar and nothing coming out, as far as I could tell, I set out to solve the mystery of my dad’s Fishing Money. When he next approached his dresser with a handful of coins, I naively asked if he was saving for a special purchase.

“Are we getting a yacht?” 
My dad chuckled, “No, but once I save enough, I’m making a donation to Trout Unlimited.”

Being an avid fly-fisherman, it wasn’t unusual that my father would focus some of his charitable giving on his hobby. What was unique was the way he went about it: patiently, one quarter at a time.

The Fishing Money is my dad’s version of a Tzedakah box, a receptacle for collecting money designated for charity. I’ve actually got one of my own from childhood, and it is a daily reminder of who I am. Central to my upbringing in a Jewish home is the concept of Tikkun Olam, which urges one to fix what is broken in our world. That’s my personal code of conduct. I cannot fix the myriad of problems society faces, but I can make things better. Saving quarters in a jar is a simple, powerful reminder that small things are worth doing and can make an impact.

Finding ways to help is easy, you just have to keep your eyes open. Recently, I was at school sitting on a bench in the quad. As I scanned the mingling students during lunchtime, one in particular caught my attention. He tossed an empty sandwich bag on the ground and continued talking to his friends, no second thought given to the litter. I didn’t think either. I strode into their midst and retrieved the bag.

Looking at the speechless student, I scolded, “You really should throw your trash away.”

He didn’t say a word, just stared at me wide-eyed. I walked away in search of a recycling bin.
I wasn’t planning on making a statement and had acted without thinking. I knew this single act wouldn’t fix the trash epidemic on campus, but being environmentally friendly is important to me, and I couldn’t just stand idly by after witnessing such an offense. It may have only been one student and one bag, but it made a difference.

I dropped a mental quarter into a jar.

More importantly, before I start “repairing the world,” I believe it is important to fix something that is broken in my own backyard. I have a close friend who lives in a dysfunctional family—parents divorced, relationships acrimonious, not abused, but definitely neglected. She often comes to school with an upset stomach because she has not eaten. Initially, I devised all manner of solutions in an attempt to fix her problems. From convincing my parents to have her live with us to funding a scholarship for college, none were viable. But, because small things can make a difference, I decided to treat her to a home-cooked meal. The chopping and seasoning definitely paid off—I felt I had made things better.

Whether it’s picking up litter or cooking for a friend, we all need a jar—real or metaphorical—that reminds us of the need to make a difference. Each time I help is another quarter being dropped into my jar. All I have to do is bide my time, and the quarters will pile up.

seoulbound · December 23, 2014, 1:10am

Accepted EA

Extended Essay #2
In English, “Daehanminguk” (대한민국) means Republic of Korea, but in Korean, it has a deeper meaning, one that encompasses the soul of the entire country. This word, once separated into its four syllables: Dae, Han, Min, and Guk, means great, one, people, and country when translated into English. These syllables show an important aspect of Korea’s culture, but when the whole word is translated, this meaning is lost. It simply becomes the Republic of Korea.
All four syllables mirror the Korean people themselves. “Han” and “Min” together mean “one people,” and these words reflect Korean history, past and future. The Republic of Korea had been an ethnically homogeneous nation for most of its history, dating from the Gojoseon Kingdom until the Japanese Invasion. Korean children are still taught that they are a homogeneous country. However, that is an ever changing statistic as South Korea is now 96% ethnically Korean; and that percentage is gradually decreasing. This change represents a struggle that Korean society will have to face as they become more diverse. As a people, they will have to decide whether to accommodate or reject this change. They are, after all, one people, one mind, one heart.
This “one people” mentality affects Korean language as well. Koreans tend to talk as a collective group. It is not “my country” (nae nara) but “our country” ( uri nara). “My mother” (nae eomma) becomes “our mother” (uri eomma), and even “my book” (nae chaek) becomes “our book” (uri chaek). Koreans rarely use selfish possessive nouns and instead opt for inclusive ones like “our”. In the U.S. this usage might seem strange, but in Korea it is perfectly acceptable; Koreans find comfort in it; they always feel a part of something bigger than themselves . After all, historically they had been an isolated country, a “one people” nation. This shows that Koreans, in their mind, have never been divided in heart or soul. Translating it simply nicks the surface of this deep mentality. 
Korea, as the republic is commonly referred to, is a victim of translation. Marco Polo derived its name from Goryeo, a kingdom that ruled in the Korean Peninsula from 919 until 1392 c.e… However this ignores thousands of years of Korean history. Yes, Republic of Korea shows that it is one country, but what about the long, homogeneous history or the unity that its true name represents? Korea struggled as a country to gain independence, to become a great country (Dae Guk), and its translated name does it an injustice. Translating it dishonors the country’s integrity and past hardships.
I remember walking down the streets of Seoul on Korean Independence Day. People of all ages chanted “Daehanminguk Manse” ( 대한민국 만세), which means “Hail Republic of Korea”. Citizens motioned for me to join in, pulling me along as they marched through the streets. I felt enveloped in the pride that Koreans felt for their country, as I became one with the crowd; as I became a part of their “oneness”. Even though I was a foreigner, I felt included, a part of that Korean collective. At this time, I realized how essential the word “Daehanminguk” was for the Korean people. Koreans identify so strongly with their country, that translating it redefines the people themselves. For these reasons, Daehanminguk should be left untranslated and considered untranslatable for all intents and purposes.

wethemusicmakers · December 24, 2014, 5:44am

@NateChortek‌ ahh nice essays! Love the common app one.

NateChortek · December 24, 2014, 4:19pm

@wethemusicmakers‌ Thanks!!

Sarbear4 · December 25, 2014, 3:13pm

@NateChortek‌ I like all of the Jewish references in your essays - mine had really Jewish themes as well!

NateChortek · December 25, 2014, 5:20pm

@Sarbear4‌ I had to throw some cultural identity in there somewhere!! Haha
Go Jews. lol.

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