One August afternoon at the cusp of tenth grade, I found myself sliding down an icy mountain slope that sharply sliced off at a cliff jutting at least a hundred feet down. The wind shrieked. I was going to die. So I did the only thing that came to mind: I screamed. Pro tip: when you’re skidding rapidly towards a nasty lethal drop, there’s not much anybody else can do to help, even if you get their attention....

The Kelly Writers House sparked my initial interest in the University of Pennsylvania. As a writer who has attended and created different local writing opportunities to encourage a flow of creative thought in the community, a bustling hub of energy and enthusiasm for literature appeals to me. Writers House groups like The Body Electric and Penn to Paper seem to encourage the sort of open dialogue that inspires new ideas in writing that I strive to cultivate in my own...

The stage lights burst open, blinding and white. I trembled. I was at the citywide poetry slam, Verselandia, about to perform in front of hundreds. Earlier in the month, I had qualified through my high school’s contest, which I had signed up for because, “Hey, there might be free cookies!” (There were not.) At the time, I didn’t know much about spoken word besides from street performers (this was downtown Portland, after all). But I practiced in front...

Sophomore year, I discovered competition math. The problems demanded both logic and creativity, which I relished. But at a humanities-focused school, which had won multiple Constitution Team national championships, it didn’t seem like others shared my enthusiasm. “What are you doing?” was a common question when people saw me with The Art of Problem Solving cracked open on the school bus. After I explained I was studying math, they’d reply, “Yeah, that’s not really my thing.” To...