Okay. What the heck. I thought people were doing pretty well and then all of a sudden Baby Theo comes along and takes 1st right out from under Benton's nose. Come on, she got more right than all my compadres? I refuse to believe it. Anyhow ... I think some of you guys need a little update on who exactly the real Gordon is. Thus, here is my almost finished product of my college essay for ... well, college. But for now, it's for Lit.
"Simplify, simplify, simplify," intoned Thoreau. If you were to follow Thoreau’s advice and scale back your possessions, what would you keep, and why?
In my quest to limit my possessions to a mere few objects, I find myself repeatedly conflicted over choosing between those I find dearest and those I find most essential to survival. In the struggle between necessity and sentiment, the latter would most likely emerge the victor. Being a bit of a romantic, I cannot envision any future without any reminder of my past and items I attached values and memories to.
The piano is, to me, much more than an instrument of musical capability. It unleashes an expressive potential, becoming an outlet for every emotion I’ve ever felt. No piece can be played the same way twice, no note articulated in the same manner, each chord representing a flurry of intense feeling. I use the piano not necessarily to perfect my technique, but oftentimes to submerge the room in a river of harmony, to rant out my frustrations in a series of fortissimo cadences, or perhaps just to stimulate the senses with a simple melody. The joy of performing is also the pleasure in pleasing others. A feeling of accomplishment overwhelms my senses each and every time I look into my audience, whether it is a dim auditorium of strangers or merely my parents smiling at me from the living room sofa. A leapfrog of fingers over the black and white is all I need to provide a release from the stressful realities of a hectic life—and if at all possible, to provide others with such an experience as well.
I also have a peculiar fascination with the physical world. I once took a photography class in summer school and was introduced to the phenomenon of capturing a single instant in time as well as the ability to transfer that phenomenon onto a thin piece of paper. When the class ended, I searched for a way to continue my interest without causing continued expenses on my parents’ part. I implored them to purchase a digital camera for me. Though it wasn’t the most professional form of photography, it did afford the same results at a cost-effective price. When they did, I was ecstatic. By my second day as a photographer, I had taken over a hundred pictures, ranging from street signs to trees to garden hoses to even the sun. My fascination with photography stems from the idea that photographs are a window into a world where time has all but stopped.
Above all things, however, I cherish my name. Juliet may spend her days wondering what’s in a name, and while it may be true that a rose by any other would retain its everlasting sweet fragrance, a name to me represents my identity. With two short words spoken, my family and friends think of that tall Asian guy who likes to sing, make silly remarks, and play tennis. They not only visualize my face, but they hear my musical rendition of The Bare Necessities and feel my odd sense of humor tugging at the corners of their lips. My past and all that makes me who I am is tied to me by nothing more than a thread, a thread that bears the words Gordon Koo in indelible ink. What future can spring from a nonexistent past? To be deprived of my name would be to cut away from me my identity and my past and to cripple my future.
A world stripped of important objects is of course accompanied by unavoidable changes. Life as we know it would forgo any familiarity it once had. In a world that leaves me with but a piano, a camera, and my name as sole possessions, I will depend on these few precious items that can salvage me from the obscure future that awaits me.
Keep in mind that this essay is subject to change, much like the demands for a relatively elastic good as price varies. Goodness, I like this a lot essay better yesterday.