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[danger03]

I came across my college application essay for Northwestern just now. This discovery is timely, for it's now that time of year again--the time when high school seniors learn their future destinies. I saw a group of littlun's yesterday by Pick, taking notes from the tour guide on why freshmen don't bring cars, or why you can't use your Wildcard on public transportation. Anyway, here's my essay:

Topic: When asked by Pope Boniface VIII to prove his skill as an artist, Giotto (1267-1337) drew a perfect circle freehand. What seemingly simple action would demonstrate your ability or skill and how would it represent you?

I wish to prove my skill as a particular kind of artist: an instrumental musician. The mastery of a musical instrument, however, is terribly complex. To prove my skill with but one simple action, I would choose an analogous activity that requires just as much talent, discipline, and dedication. Challenged by the Pope himself, I would stand before him and tie a cherry stem in a knot using only my mouth.
According to Napoleon I, "Ability is nothing without opportunity." I see a talent as a tiny seed hidden somewhere in all of us, waiting for just the right conditions to germinate and sprout. If you were to watch a virtuoso perform, you'd probably think that he was so good he must have been "born with it." Sometimes this is the case, but just as a bud may be destined to bear the ripest, juiciest melon in the batch, it will never come to full bloom without a constant supply of water, sunlight, and nutrients. Sometimes a dormant seed gets lucky, and the wind drops it right into an open field of hearty soil. Sometimes, the seed must wait patiently for years until conditions become just right.
My accidental discovery of my psuedo-talent took the latter case, as I am not really a cherry eater. If fact, I never even considered tying a cherry stem with my tongue until my friend Aya propounded the idea about a month ago. I eagerly accepted the challenge, much as I did 6 years ago when I decided to join band and take up clarinet. In both cases, what began as a simple diversion soon became a supreme challenge.
I encountered certain physical difficulties in trying to accomplish my goal. The stem was too stiff to work with. My tongue muscles lacked coordination. The stem wouldn't stay in a circle long enough for me to thread it. Overcoming these obstacles required lots of practice and discipline. I spent the first 15 minutes working the stem with my tongue, getting a feel for it and loosening it. Then I formulated a plan to form a loop and then use my front teeth to anchor the loop in place. The hard part was actually seeing the plan through. Approximately two hours later and on the verge of tears, I stuck my tongue out and a perfect knotted specimen emerged.
Proving myself on clarinet was equally daunting, but on a much larger timescale. Years of scales and arpeggio practice finally paid off when I joined my first youth orchestra in the 9th grade. In my high school years I leaped over every hurdle placed before me, landing finally in the principal spot of the Atlanta Symphony Youth Orchestra and in other groups as well.
All art is, in fact, a demonstration of skill. Today I have the privilege to know that I have the ability to do (two!) things that the average person cannot. My success so far indicates that I possess the equipment to accomplish any goal set before me: I am a good seed. I seek a place in the sun where I can finally take root so that I may cultivate my interests and grow.

I know I've neglected this thing. Thanks to my popular writing class, however, I am gearing up to start writing again. I just need a little bit more time to prepare and figure out how I'm going to use this journal when I start up again.