Creative College Essay:  Samples

For admission to Yale:

Within his poem, "Sailing to Byzantium", William Butler Yeats speaks of escaping from the natural world to a land of paradise. Indeed, we all have a place we go to in times of need, whether it be for consolation, comfort, or thought. Aristotle had his Lyceum, Caesar his Forum, Buddha his Bo tree. And I, (name), I have my shower.

It is here, under the shiny brass and cheap plastic, under the delightful stream of golden ambrosia, that I, (name), Frisbee player and philosopher extraordinaire, have planned my life's accomplishments. For, like the Oracle of Apollo, the showerhead tells no lies. Within my shower, soap and water are united as one. They are Yin and Yang, the shower is the Tao, and more.

In four years of high school, the shower has never failed me yet. With its bright lighting and adjacent mirror, I am forced to literally look myself in the eye. It is in the shower, under a calming spray of water, that I realize when I have been at fault. For unlike the world outside, the shower forces me to confront myself. And in doing so, I have made some of the most important decisions in my life.

It was in the shower, two years and three months ago, when I realized for the first time that eating as much as my 320 pound speech coach had given me love handles. A moment later, realization became panic. But the shower is more than a place of revelation; it is a place of contemplation as well. The cooling influence of the water soon calmed me, and I thought of joining cross-country. And in the months to follow, it would be the stark shape of my excess blubber which would haunt and propel me to greater efforts until I earned my Varsity Letter that very first year.

Cross-country is not the only form of athletics to have its roots in my shower. Four years of summer studies at Duke University had taught me to love Ultimate Frisbee. One summer, when I had grown too old to return, it was the shower which provided my solution. Standing under the showerhead, it suddenly dawned on me that I should found my own Ultimate Frisbee Club at school. Thanks to a shower, the Ultimate Frisbee Club of [school] has become one of 22 schools in California to play the sport.

And yet, the shower is much more than merely a place of instantaneous revelation, it is also a proving ground for old ideas and practices. Unknown to the rest of Monte Vista Speech and Debate, it is the shower which is my very essence. In four years of debating, my coaches have grown accustomed to getting calls late at night about a new argument for the team. I have my old coach to thank for my initial success in extemporaneous speech. However, after his departure, I have realized that giving practice speeches to myself in front of that all-revealing mirror is at as least large a reason for my continued success. To look my coach in the eye and try to get away with skewed analysis on "The Effect Privatization of Ecuador's Industries will have on its Economy" is one matter. But, to try to lie to myself in that mirror is yet another.

My shower is my morality. Not only can I not get away with excess flab on my waist, but I cannot hide from my self either. The bright lights and the mirror reveal more than the physical body. Looking into my own eyes, into my own soul, I see what a careful observer would see. All my good traits and my flaws appear, a synthesis of light and dark, molding itself into the gray of reality. To lie to that person, would be to deny all that I am. And thus, the shower has become the purest reflection of me. Were I to have enclosed a picture of myself, it would not have had more meaning.

Perhaps, one day, many years from now, a weary young seeker will venture through a thick tangle of vegetation to be welcomed by the roar of a shimmering cataract. Within the shadows formed by the play of sunlight on a cascade of water, will be an old man, bent with age, sitting with feet crossed; the light in his eyes undimmed with the passage of time. And the old man will speak of his own voyage to Byzantium.

Prompt (from UPenn): Write page 217 of your 300-page autobiography.

and that ended the most terrifying experience of my life.

Surprisingly by age 50,my lucrative business lost its thrill, and I felt like it was time to move on and experience more of what life had to offer. I had enough of the problems and headaches of mainstream life and decided to sell my business to my husband. With a couple million dollars as pocket-money and a picture of my family, I moved to Jamaica where stress is low and "hakuna matata" is the national motto. I wanted to start my new life fresh. I found a perfect, cozy beach house that overlooked the white sand beach and the clear blue ocean. It served as a beautiful sight to collect my thoughts as the waves methodically crashed to shore. While I was overlooking the sea and watching the red-gold sun disappear into the horizon, I realized how truly happy I was. Once again I felt the thrill of new beginnings and the excitement of things to come.

My husband, on the other had, was still heavily involved in the business and insisted on building a pool house with a basement that served as his office. This mock office, fully-equipped with the latest communication technology, enabled him to spend more time with his family, which was our agreement and our compromise. A night-owl and workaholic, my husband frequently worked from dusk until dawn.

My two children, now 20 and 18,are in college having the time of their lives. My son decided to transfer to Oxford while my daughter decided to attend my alma mater. With my children away at school, my husband and I planned a year's vacation around the world. Although he insisted on bringing his mini-fax machine, his pocket computer, and his video-phone on the trip, he promised business would not get in the way, and he kept his promise.

Our first stop-New York. I wanted to marvel in the Statue of Liberty's third renovation and catch the revival of the works of Andrew Lloyd Webber on Broadway. We spent seven glorious days in the Big Apple and reveled in all the urban experiences that we could cram in.

Next stop was Argentina, where we stayed with a family friend in Buenos Aries. The great abundance of food and its high quality leather are two things that stand out in my mind when I look back on our trip. We ate so much food I thought we would be accused of the sin of gluttony, but our only excuse was the fact that our friend served three appetizers, two salads, four main courses, and two desserts with every meal. As for Argentine leather, I must say its the finest crafted leather we had ever seen. My husband bought so much leather in the form of cowboy boots, pants, and jackets, he look like an over-aged vaquero ready to work on a ranch. As for me, I was glad I got the opportunity to practice my rusty Spanish while bargaining with the leather store owner. We enjoyed Argentina so much that we extended our stay to see the rest of the country, but after a couple weeks of touring, we had to say goodbye to our friend and catch a plane to our next destination, Madagascar with a stop over in Tanzania, Africa.

On our way to Madagascar, we encountered a major problem in