Common Application
Common Application Prompt: Describe a place or environment where you are perfectly content. What do you do or experience there, and why is it meaningful to you?
New York City, nothing can be more exciting to me. For those around the world that venture to this concrete jungle, they travel here to capture the gift from France, to pay their respects to Ground Zero, to discuss business on Wall Street, or even to visit King Kong’s territory. For me, going to New York was my last act of rebellion against the watchful eye of my conservative Filipino parents. I sought to express my individuality and experience one last episode before my summer of bliss ceased upon entering a rigorous senior year of high school.
This is the city where hip-hop originated from! This is where the Ramones wrote all their records! This is the land of the right-brains, Earth’s capital of the arts! Fleeing to New York City was an experience not even Disney World and a five-star resort in the Bahamas combined could compare to. The city was my museum, exposing me to countless mediums of art that integrated into the culture itself.
In just twenty-four hours, I had discovered a whole new world inside an island. I wandered aimlessly in Central Park as the Dawn Chorus occurred, laid eyes on Andy Warhol’s collection in the Museum of Modern Art, learned an artist’s persona based off a photograph, questioned the stories of the sixth borough, spotted Banksy’s graffiti, and revealed a life’s worth of dilemmas to an alumni of Julliard on a building rooftop. Day by day, I encountered a different face that originated from another part of the globe. My doorman was raised in Palestine and had witnessed the murder of his brother by an Israeli. A waiter that I met at a Dim-Sum restaurant in Chinatown is an illegal immigrant that has slept in a crammed studio of ten people. Whether one is a professional model, a drug addict, a millionaire, a hustler, each person possesses a distinctive story to
New York City, nothing can be more exciting to me. For those around the world that venture to this concrete jungle, they travel here to capture the gift from France, to pay their respects to Ground Zero, to discuss business on Wall Street, or even to visit King Kong’s territory. For me, going to New York was my last act of rebellion against the watchful eye of my conservative Filipino parents. I sought to express my individuality and experience one last episode before my summer of bliss ceased upon entering a rigorous senior year of high school.
This is the city where hip-hop originated from! This is where the Ramones wrote all their records! This is the land of the right-brains, Earth’s capital of the arts! Fleeing to New York City was an experience not even Disney World and a five-star resort in the Bahamas combined could compare to. The city was my museum, exposing me to countless mediums of art that integrated into the culture itself.
In just twenty-four hours, I had discovered a whole new world inside an island. I wandered aimlessly in Central Park as the Dawn Chorus occurred, laid eyes on Andy Warhol’s collection in the Museum of Modern Art, learned an artist’s persona based off a photograph, questioned the stories of the sixth borough, spotted Banksy’s graffiti, and revealed a life’s worth of dilemmas to an alumni of Julliard on a building rooftop. Day by day, I encountered a different face that originated from another part of the globe. My doorman was raised in Palestine and had witnessed the murder of his brother by an Israeli. A waiter that I met at a Dim-Sum restaurant in Chinatown is an illegal immigrant that has slept in a crammed studio of ten people. Whether one is a professional model, a drug addict, a millionaire, a hustler, each person possesses a distinctive story to