Donna, Jen, Marin; three faces I knew almost better than my own. Not playmates or teachers, they were the children librarians at the public library, right across from my house. My father, although he preferred Gilligan’s Island and Seinfeld to stories and picture books, supported my reading wholeheartedly. He had cancer for ten years, since before I was born, and, even though he was constantly exhausted, I was always welcome to climb up on the couch or hospital bed next to him with Harry Potter or The Magic Treehouse...
“We’re done with short stories. Bring your As I Lay Dying to class tomorrow.” Mrs. Clark’s declaration was met by our eleventh-grade English class with great enthusiasm. Although we appreciated Poe’s dark genius and Hawthorne’s talent for story-weaving, we could only write so many papers about Young Goodman Brown and the idea of a new book thrilled us. Senior friends refused to comment on the Faulkner, giving only vague, ambiguous hints like “strange,” “confusing,” and “bizarre.” I approached the first chapter with trepidation, but to my surprise, the language was straightforward and unembellished...
“Reality is a product of consciousness,” my classmate asserted. “This chair, or any object in our universe, does not exist unless a conscious being observes its presence.”
“But matter existed long before anyone was around to observe it,” I responded. “An immeasurable number of objects in the universe will never be discovered, yet they still exist.” Another student countered with a quote from Immanuel Kant regarding the centrality of perception in every form of reality...
I could never fall asleep at night without a nightlight. My eyes refused to shut when the room was too dark for comfort. Not knowing what was hidden beneath the darkness of the night terrified me. My nightlight was my savior, eliminating the darkness while protecting me from this uncertainty. It exposed every dark corner of the room, leaving nowhere for creatures to lurk. I felt safe, secure, and at peace...
Vocation: noun: a particular profession, business, or occupation. Though this word in English typically denotes a career choice, the Latin root of the word “voco” means, “to call or summon.” Too many people choose a given career by chance or for meaningless reasons instead of searching for a profession that truly calls to them, a profession suited to their gifts and talents, a profession that is not just a job, but a calling. I started out college as a chemical engineer on a path that was headed for a future career that would not have been particularly fulfilling or exciting for me. I was lucky enough to eventually find a calling that inspired and excited me...
The word “drive” has many meanings. It can be used to describe determination, will, what pushes someone to keep striving towards a goal. It can also be an action. The act of controlling a vehicle. This single word defines not only my experience, but how that experience has molded me into the person I am today...
The Lure of the AnglerfishI was prey to the anglerfish’s lure. Like bait on hook, a speck of bioluminescent light dangled from the fish’s head, emitting a soft, soothing glow. Held captive by its alluring radiance, the light blanketed me with a sense of security in this wild ocean filled with lurking creatures. I could not ignore it. I could not resist it. The glow of brilliant colors amidst the murky water reeled me in with an invisible string. Powerless to its force, I inched my way toward this curious spectacle...
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