1.d. Final Essay

I’m standing in a seemingly infinite line of hungry people at Charley’s Philly Steaks inside of a Wisconsin mall. Each second feels like hours, but as I get closer and closer to the front of the line, I can feel the tension building. I have never eaten here before, and I dread becoming “that guy”, the one that takes forever to order when there’s a mob of people also waiting to get food. Line’s are stressful enough without having a bunch of hangry people behind you. What I don’t know is that today I will be eating the best sandwich that I’ve ever had. Today is the day that I learn a very important lesson: when you take a step of faith and trust someone, the results may surprise you. Flash back to this morning. My sophomore choir class was taking a coach bus to Chicago to go sightseeing. We had left the school and driven for a few hours in buses filled with luggage and excited chatter. When we stopped for lunch, a swarm of starving students streamed out from the confines of the bus. After stretching our solid wooden legs, we filed into the mall. It wasn’t particularly different from any other mall. The smalltown Wisconsin vibe had seeped into every nook and cranny of the building like a friendly neighborhood poltergeist. Shops along the large walkways of the mall sold a menagerie of items and services, from sports memorabilia to hair cuts. A small food court, with only a couple of restaurants, sat in the center of the complex ready to accommodate the masses of people that are flooding into it’s quaint space. And now I’m here; the line of people stretches out behind me like a hungry snake, twisting and turning between the tables and chairs of the mall. I look forward, and a space opens up between me and the cash register. I take a tentative step forward as I prepare to order a sandwich from Charley’s Philly Steaks.

“What do you want?” the employee asks bluntly. He is wearing a white chef's coat with the sleeves torn off; his arms are covered in a tapestry of ink from shoulder to wrist. A backwards snapback covers his buzz-cut head, and his scruffy beard matches his overall disposition.

“Uhhhh....” I stall as my eyes scan the menu, “... I’ve never actually eaten here before. What do you recommend?"

A grin slowly dances across his face, “Okay, give me a starting place.”

“Well, I like spicy food.”

“I’ve got you,” he says confidently as he walks back to the grill. With that, he becomes an artistic whirlwind, cooking steak, cheese, and peppers into what seems to be an arbitrary pile. This food is by no means arbitrary though. As the sound of sizzling beef hits my ears, it is followed up by the aroma of fresh cooked meat and veggies; it’s a flavor thunderstorm. Besides the occasional question of whether or not I like a certain food, he puts all his focus into the ingredients that he adds to my sandwich. He signs the hidden masterpiece that he has created with a bottle of chipotle sauce, then hands me the sandwich.

“Thanks.” I say, not truly knowing what I hold in my hands.

“No problem at all, dude.” he replies before returning to the cash register to continue whittling down the ever increasing line of hungry people. I slowly walk back to the table where my friends are waiting for me and set my tray down in front of everyone. Their eyes lock onto the sandwich like homing missiles; they can tell that something is different.

“Dude, what did you get?” my friend David asks plainly.

“I… I don’t even know.” I peel back the wrapping to reveal a sandwich that far exceeded any that I had seen before it. As I lifted it up to my hesitant mouth, I expected an okay sandwich that wasn’t worth the eight-or-so dollars that I had spent on it. What I got was a heavenly blend of spicy, savory, and slightly sweet. It was the mathematical golden ratio of sandwiches: perfection only seen in nature and roman architecture. The flavor filled my mouth before I could comprehend what my tastebuds were communicating to me.

“Oh my gosh!” I said, or at least tried to say as my tongue had to choose between articulating my thoughts and tasting the delicious sandwich.

“What does it taste like?” my friends all question, as I try fruitlessly to describe the indescribable. Once I finish my sandwich, I slowly approach the counter again and wait for the unlikely virtuoso to make eye contact with me.

“How was it?” he asks with genuine excitement.

“Honestly, that was probably the best sandwich I have ever had up to this point in my life.”

He chuckles and cracks a smile, “Good, I’m glad you liked it.” We share a silent moment of acknowledgement before he checks back on the meat that he’s cooking. I look back at the entrance of the mall and notice teachers ushering the students back onto the bus. As the bus pulls away from the mall, I knew that this was a memory that I would not soon forget. I took one small leap of faith with a strange cook, and in return, I was pleasantly surprised with not only a sandwich, but a moment of personal connection with a stranger. I never realized that the simple act of buying a sandwich would lead to a life lesson. Since then, I have learned to love trying new things and being adventurous. If we all take leaps of faith, perhaps pleasant surprises will happen more often.

Word Picture

After only a few months of working full time at the so called “coffee and sunshine cafe”, I was already disillusioned with the retro décor and cheery atmosphere. Looking through fresh eyes, I too would marvel at the old leather sofas and 60’s style tables with former public-school chairs, the unfinished hardwood floors, the local art filling every inch of burnt orange and turquoise walls. I would enjoy the strong aroma of freshly ground coffee and baked goods, made from scratch daily. I might comment about the strange lamp on the counter, the one with the mannequin leg post adorned in fishnet tights and a high heel. Or, I would inquire about the sign reading “This area reserved for The Council of Elders from 6:00 am- 7:00 am. Thank you for respecting the sacred space of the Elders.” But there was no need to inquire- as an employee I knew it was just a group of old guys who would gather to drink coffee and smoke cigarettes on the back patio. It was a neighborhood place, quirky to say the least. After working there for three months I no longer paid attention to what a new customer might, but the regulars I had come to know by name, order, and mug. I had come to know and like them, expecting their presence to add some interest to my day.

Word Picture

Word Picture

Walking outside on a sunny day to go grab the mail down the street, I empty out the full mailbox and grab the newspaper. Bring it all back inside and start sorting through it to find anything that is addressed to me. I come across a giant yellow envelope with gopher pictures all over it and massive letters that spell out the word congratulations. My parents are right next to me as I open this letter that I have been waiting for a long time. Even though I know what the letter is going to say because the giant congratulations on the front kind of gives it away, I am still full of anticipation for me to be able to read the actual letter. After opening it for what seemed like forever, a gopher sticker falls out and land right on the counter along with all of these other papers. I dig through and find the one I am looking for which tells me exactly what I wanted to hear, that I have made it into the University of Minnesota.

Blog Post - Personal Narrative

In order for an author to influence their reader to really care and understand the basis of their ideas, they make them feel something as they read. whether it be fear, anger, joy or sadness, playing with emotions burns memories into our brains. Emotion is one of the strongest elements of any experience, and has the potential for incredible influence. The reason to which I bring this to attention is because through a combination of raw emotions including passion, frustration, and a drive to be the best; I have created a mental archive full of priceless moments that all have one thing in common. Hockey.

I have found that as a hockey player in my youth, I was able to discover many things about what it means to be a team. Being a part of a team allows you to extract positive characteristics and ideas from a group of people who share similar interests as you, which can be beneficial in shaping your ideologies. Furthermore, being a part of a team bestows in you a sense of respect and positivity for both your teammates and your rivals. As I said earlier, emotions are a huge part of every experience, and have incredible influential power. Being a part of a team taught me how to control my emotions, especially when they dictate my actions. For example, imagine that you want something.  This something that you aspire for replays through your mind, increasing your aspirations by the hour. When you finally get the chance to fight for that item, you may be willing to do more than you ever thought possible to obtain it. You may even act uncharacteristically, merely out of pure desire. This desperate want is created from your emotions. The thoughts of “ what will it be like not to have it? ”, and “I can’t let them have it” will rile up your desire emotions. If you never learn to control those desires, you’ll never learn how to acquire that item. Granted, in this situation I’m simply referring to the desire to win, but desire is an emotion that can completely rewire your brain, and take charge of your actions if left uncontrolled. Through dealing with desire before every game, hockey has taught me to wrangle desire, and use it positively by turning it into grit and drive, which plays a part in giving you the ability to obtain the goal you’re chasing.                                                                                        Through hockey I was also able to develop traits that have helped shape my personality for the better. One important characteristic that I was able to obtain through hockey was learning to deal with anxious feelings, and finding determination and drive when I need it most. Picture yourself in this situation. There you sit, a whitewashed room with timber trim. The floor littered with black duffle bags, each with a signature number and logo. The original smell of the room is now masked by the stench of perspiring bodies, packed into layers of equipment. Your whole body aches, and as if it couldn't get any worse, you're drenched in a mixture of sweat and melted ice. You look around the room, seeing your brothers struggling. They've collaboratively left every ounce of energy in their body out on the ice after a rigorous two sessions, yet they're expected to walk out of that whitewashed room and do it for one last period. Combined with these physical factors is the mental struggle of the hunger for a win. This isn't any ordinary game however, it’s the state championship game, against your biggest rival team. A normal person simply can’t perform at their peak in this situation, but through repeated exposure via hockey games, a person can learn how to cope with this rush of both physical and mental feelings. 

One may now be thinking, “so what? I’ll never play hockey in my life, whats the use of these skills?” The point is that the traits gained through playing in this game are applicable to more than just a hockey game. Having the ability to dig deep and “pull determination from the bottom of your empty tank,” as my coach used to say, is an important trait to have. One will find themselves more successful if they have developed the ability to push themselves, and develop motivation to finish what they started, even if its painful or tough. This motivation found within is often referred to as grit. Grit is an evolution of desire, and is brought about only when you have the ability to transform your desires into your motivation. Grit is thought to be a key element in being successful in whatever endeavor you are attempting to conquer.

Overall, this is merely a few examples of the lessons to be learned through the greatest sport on ice. With proper exposure to teamwork, sportsmanship, and hard work, one’s personality can be molded through emotion. Furthermore, the benefits of using emotion to harness drive through your desires are applicable in every act of life, and developing these abilities through youth sports has been an incredible help in countless situations throughout my life.

My First Performance

My First Performance

  When you’re thirteen years old, making sure you fit in is your greatest concern. In the beginning of middle school, I only had a couple of friends, and I would constantly be gauging  my peers’ reaction to my every move. All the kids in my classes were joining some sort of club or activity, and I didn’t have one yet. To be accepted by my peers, I knew I had to do something about it. For weeks, one of my friends was persistent that I should audition for the school musical, so I finally did just that. A few days after the auditions, the cast list was taped to the auditorium doors. Under the header that read “ensemble,” I found my name printed with about twenty others. Joining the musical meant that I had to be vulnerable onstage, which fostered anxiety just thinking about it. I didn’t know it at the time, but overcoming my fear of social rejection has allowed me to find a new, profound passion for theatre and performing arts. 

Before I joined theatre, I never would have thought that I would be singing and dancing on a big stage for hundreds of people to watch. It was so crucial to be accepted by my classmates that I almost didn’t want to participate in the musical. They could have thought I was weird. If my dancing or singing was even slightly off, surely everyone would think I was a failure. These thoughts entered my head almost everyday. When I’d rehearse, though, those thoughts would rarely affect me. Kids my age were doing the same things right beside me, and they were likely feeling the same way I was. My castmates and I were beginning to feel like a team. Finally, I had a group I felt I belonged to! For the first time, I felt real passion for what I was doing. Even though I felt safe performing with the ensemble in front of empty seats, there was still a much larger group of people I needed to please: the audience.

After months of dedicated rehearsal, the time had finally come. It was opening night. Tension quickly arose in my chest when the stage manager shouted, “places!” My hands were shaky and my heart was racing, but I reminded myself that I had rehearsed for months in preparation for this night. When my cue came, I entered the stage with the ensemble, and the accompanying music track began to play. I was confident when I would run through the songs in rehearsal, but this time was different. People were watching. There were hundreds of eyes, and I felt that all of them were on me. The hardwood stage beneath my feet was a familiar feeling, but the lights felt significantly hotter than they had been in rehearsal. Maybe it was just my face getting hot, but thank God I was wearing piles of makeup to hide the likely tomato hue my face was becoming. 

         I concentrated on performing the best that I could. I messed up only on a couple of steps and a couple of notes, and I prayed that the audience didn’t notice. I put on my best smile, and to my surprise, the anxiety somehow disappeared. The song was just as fun to perform in front of an audience as it was in rehearsal. My forced smile soon felt more natural, and I could see audience members smiling too! We finish the song in our final pose at the front of the stage, arms outstretched, jazz hands and all. Cheering and clapping erupted from the audience, which brought relief and warmth to my thirteen-year-old heart. When the song was over, my castmates and I rushed offstage. 

         The audience liked the musical number, but more importantly, I felt that they liked me. I enthusiastically hugged my favorite castmate and went backstage to prepare for my next appearance. I felt like I had just won the social lottery. From that moment on, performing wasn’t that scary anymore. In fact, I would perform in musicals for the next seven years, and it would become an undeniable passion in my life.

         I almost let my anxiety get the best of me. I was so hesitant to make myself vulnerable on a stage in front of hundreds of people. My fear of rejection was so intense, and at such a young age, I felt the world would collapse if my peers didn’t like me. Fortunately, I was able to put my fear aside and do something about it. After my first show, I started to actively chase the feeling of a live performance, instead of run from it. I started to think less and less of what my peers thought of me. I started to realize that it doesn’t matter what they think of me. The only thing that matters is that I’ve grown to love what I do. I developed tools that allow me to overcome mental obstacles in my path. Most importantly, though, I found a deep love for theatre that will never perish.

Word Picture: Sometimes, It is Best to Confront

As I walked around the VEX Robotics Championships, my eyes scanned the teams for the 1954Z Robotics team, our allies for the eighth round. A neon green sign displaying the team number we needed to find came into view and my best friend and unofficial team captain, both members of my robotics team, approached our allies for the next round. The team captain mumbled a few words back and forth with the other team captain and gave me and my friend no explanation of what she said when I asked her about what the other team captain said. This ignorance and disrespect our team captain had towards my best friend and me continued to escalate. Many times I would suggest improvements or ways of approaching a certain problem, but she continued to dismiss my ideas even though time and time again they were proved to be the more effective solution later on. I was shocked by her dismissive and disrespectful demeanor, and never confronted her about how I felt. I spent four days walking around the Exposition center, as if I was in a daze, under the bright, blinding white lights, pretending our team dynamics were superb. It was not till after the season that pangs of disappointment in my lackluster ability to stand up for myself started impacting me. Any experiences in which I had felt uncomfortable or disrespected after that situation, I confronted them or ignored them, depending on the severity, and moved on from that point.

Word Picture

Word Picture

As I walked into my first day of kindergarten I was more nervous than ever. I had just told my mom that I did not want her with me in class the first week of school. This was something I had not experienced before being alone without my parents or my brother in a new country, the United States. It felt as if I was an alien visiting the world for the first time. A daunting yet very exciting moment in my life. The only English I knew going into that first day was from the jingle Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes. The few words that are in this song did not get me far but it was a start and at least I was able to impress my teacher because she knew I was foreign. The first couple of days were anything but easy but I was able to catch on to gestures and some phrases such as, “Can I use the bathroom?” Although it was challenging I did not give up and was able to find a couple of people to hang around. One of the kids, Jack Lundhagen, really went out of his way to help me around the school and teach me things I did not know. With all the help I received along the way I was able to catch up to my classmates academically and socially.

Word Picture

As a curious young man beginning high school, something happened to me that changed the way I look at unfamiliar things. I hated going out to places that were foreign to me. I would never step out of my comfort zone to go to different places when I hung out with my friends. So, one of my friends decided to bring me to do something fun, and I accepted. At the time, he never told me that we were going to break into an abandoned military base. Confronted with the first obstacle, we scrambled over a fence and I landed in an uncomfortable position on a spiky plant, which immediately shocked me back up. Our entrance was through the window reflected by a full moon. Jamming through the window, our oxygen masks gorged the ancient dust particles in the air. Each and every one of our footsteps alerted the imaginary peril in the building. Peering in one of the room’s safes felt like someone was watching us, as a rotary dial phone hung from the table. We bolted up the eerie staircase, which reeked of dead animals, only to be stopped by a door titled “dead people inside.” It was irresistible to go in, as it was the only way to the roof. Red and Blue sirens were flashing not too far, and my body started pounding. After that, I learned that leaving my comfort zone was the best thing I have ever done.

Word Picture

Everyday after school I would walk into the locker room and change into my swimsuit. Then I would grab my swim cap and my water bottle and slowly walk into the pool. The overwhelming smell of chlorine would fill my nose, and I could feel my nerves filling me up inside, looking for a way out. I would take a deep breath and shove my nerves as far down as I could, trying not to let any escape through my eyes. Diving practice was about to begin, and I needed to be confident. I did the same stretching routine that I did before practice everyday, and warmed up with a few jumps off the board while wondering what dive I would have to work on first. At some point during practice, I knew I would have to do the dive that scared me most, the reverse. My coach would come over to tell me what to work on, and I could feel my nerves pushing on my chest. “Start with reverses,” he said. As I walked away I felt a drip down my cheek, as I tried to blink away the tears. I made a goal to make it to state, and I knew I needed to complete this dive in order to do it, so I pushed my tears away and prepared to take on this fear.

The Race Against Time

           The gun went off. I started running. Everything around me came to life. The booming voices of spectators seemed to march straight into my ears. I quickly made my way to the front in time to reach the first turn. The beginning was crucial in determining the final outcome- you either stayed in the lead or were swallowed up by the sea of cross-country runners behind you.

            Feet pounded down on the wet, freshly mowed grass behind me. The cool air of a Saturday morning wisped my hair back and forth across my face. My legs were burning as I shortened my strides to accelerate up the hill, digging my spikes into the dew-covered ground. With my lungs beating like drums, I slowly broke away from the pack, putting me in first.

“Looking strong! 6:15!” My dad shouted out as I flew past him.

Not paying close attention to the split my dad called out, I ran the rest of the course with minimal thinking as I knew this course like the back of my hand. Each stride led me closer to the finish line and closer to ending my last conference race. With the finish line in sight, I knew this would determine if I would be able to run at sectionals and state. Sprinting, I turned down the final stretch of the race and flew by the roaring crowd. Crossing the line, I knew it would be hard for my coach not to put me on varsity now.