My old friends have been dropping like houseflies.
So I was looking for sample college essay questions, because we have to write a practice essay for English class, and I managed to find my way to the University of Chicago website. I've been hearing all about the bizarre questions that UChicago offers its applicants, so I thought "What the hell, I'll give some random crazy prompt a shot."
I'm pretty proud of what I wrote. It's a little out there, but I think I might actually turn it in to Dr. K. Tell me what you think, please! :]
"Have you ever walked through the aisles of a warehouse store like Costco or Sam’s Club and wondered who would buy a jar of mustard a foot and a half tall? We’ve bought it, but it didn’t stop us from wondering about other things, like absurd eating contests, impulse buys, excess, unimagined uses for mustard, storage, preservatives, notions of bigness...and dozens of other ideas both silly and serious. Write an essay somehow inspired by super-huge mustard."
Sometimes I wonder. Wonder about what, you ask? Well, I'm not quite sure; I just wonder. There are days when I would give anything to get inside a certain person's head and know exactly what they're thinking. The mind of the person who bought the foot-and-a-half tall mustard jar, for instance. What do they need all that mustard for? A mustard-slinging contest, perhaps? The world's largest hot dog? Maybe. Did it ever occur to this person that he or she will undoubtedly have to dispose of the mustard long before it is used up? Who likes mustard that much, anyway?
This is only one example of the many times I've dropped everything and thought to myself: WHY? Why is the person in front of me driving so slowly? Why can't the girl in my history class remember the opening lines of the Gettysburg Address? Why do people who are supposed to be friends constantly rip each other apart when their already complicated lives would be so much simpler if they just made an effort to get along?
Forgive me, but I'm about to go into serious mode now. Junior year has been a difficult one for my friends and me, what with our tender adolescent hearts and easily stirred-up emotions. In the course of the school year, I, personally, have lost, oh, about five friends, more or less. I've lost friends, gotten in arguments, been dumped and had my self-esteem destroyed, all on top of the massive workloads that my teachers have piled on me because, you know, it's Junior Year. (Cue ominous music.) That formative year of your high school career when students take the tests that may determine the course of the rest of their lives. (Or so we're convinced.) That year of school everyone always warns you about. (Warnings which we brushed off, of course. Warnings that we will be giving next year. We must continue the time-honored tradition.)
I wonder, sometimes, if these teachers realize how much their students must deal with in the social aspect of their lives alone. Perhaps then they would be more merciful, but then again perhaps not. I wonder. Even more than wanting to get into the head of the supersized-mustard-purchaser, I'd love to get inside the head of the teacher-who-lacks-emotion, the one who piles on assignment after assignment, the one who says, "Oh, it should only take you about 6546513 hours to complete this project. It should be easy enough." Clearly, this teacher has forgotten what it was like to suffer through Junior Year.
How, you may be thinking, was this rambling mess inspired by super-huge mustard? I could pull any number of contrived analogies out of the air, relating the bite of mustard to the bark of cold, heartless teachers or comparing that foot-and-a-half tall pile of condiment to the magnitude of my workload. But no, I believe I have come up with something better. (Or, perhaps in the eyes of the reader it will be worse, but I, at least, think it is better.) As much as I complain and groan over the struggles of high school, I have learned the invaluable lesson that, cliché as it is, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Somehow, inexplicably, I know that the experiences of these four years of my life are necessary in molding me into the person I will be in the future. Each hard time I survive makes me a little stronger and a little more prepared for the obstacles waiting for me on that journey we call Life. Each hard time I survive, I believe, makes my heart a little bigger, capable of giving a little more love. And maybe, one day, my heart will hold as much love and that jar holds mustard.
I'm pretty proud of what I wrote. It's a little out there, but I think I might actually turn it in to Dr. K. Tell me what you think, please! :]
"Have you ever walked through the aisles of a warehouse store like Costco or Sam’s Club and wondered who would buy a jar of mustard a foot and a half tall? We’ve bought it, but it didn’t stop us from wondering about other things, like absurd eating contests, impulse buys, excess, unimagined uses for mustard, storage, preservatives, notions of bigness...and dozens of other ideas both silly and serious. Write an essay somehow inspired by super-huge mustard."
Sometimes I wonder. Wonder about what, you ask? Well, I'm not quite sure; I just wonder. There are days when I would give anything to get inside a certain person's head and know exactly what they're thinking. The mind of the person who bought the foot-and-a-half tall mustard jar, for instance. What do they need all that mustard for? A mustard-slinging contest, perhaps? The world's largest hot dog? Maybe. Did it ever occur to this person that he or she will undoubtedly have to dispose of the mustard long before it is used up? Who likes mustard that much, anyway?
This is only one example of the many times I've dropped everything and thought to myself: WHY? Why is the person in front of me driving so slowly? Why can't the girl in my history class remember the opening lines of the Gettysburg Address? Why do people who are supposed to be friends constantly rip each other apart when their already complicated lives would be so much simpler if they just made an effort to get along?
Forgive me, but I'm about to go into serious mode now. Junior year has been a difficult one for my friends and me, what with our tender adolescent hearts and easily stirred-up emotions. In the course of the school year, I, personally, have lost, oh, about five friends, more or less. I've lost friends, gotten in arguments, been dumped and had my self-esteem destroyed, all on top of the massive workloads that my teachers have piled on me because, you know, it's Junior Year. (Cue ominous music.) That formative year of your high school career when students take the tests that may determine the course of the rest of their lives. (Or so we're convinced.) That year of school everyone always warns you about. (Warnings which we brushed off, of course. Warnings that we will be giving next year. We must continue the time-honored tradition.)
I wonder, sometimes, if these teachers realize how much their students must deal with in the social aspect of their lives alone. Perhaps then they would be more merciful, but then again perhaps not. I wonder. Even more than wanting to get into the head of the supersized-mustard-purchaser, I'd love to get inside the head of the teacher-who-lacks-emotion, the one who piles on assignment after assignment, the one who says, "Oh, it should only take you about 6546513 hours to complete this project. It should be easy enough." Clearly, this teacher has forgotten what it was like to suffer through Junior Year.
How, you may be thinking, was this rambling mess inspired by super-huge mustard? I could pull any number of contrived analogies out of the air, relating the bite of mustard to the bark of cold, heartless teachers or comparing that foot-and-a-half tall pile of condiment to the magnitude of my workload. But no, I believe I have come up with something better. (Or, perhaps in the eyes of the reader it will be worse, but I, at least, think it is better.) As much as I complain and groan over the struggles of high school, I have learned the invaluable lesson that, cliché as it is, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Somehow, inexplicably, I know that the experiences of these four years of my life are necessary in molding me into the person I will be in the future. Each hard time I survive makes me a little stronger and a little more prepared for the obstacles waiting for me on that journey we call Life. Each hard time I survive, I believe, makes my heart a little bigger, capable of giving a little more love. And maybe, one day, my heart will hold as much love and that jar holds mustard.