The Idea of an Essay, Volume 3

Narrative & Memoir 43 Lethargy Versus Literacy Timothy VanWingerden Amidst the noise of the crowd, my heart began to race as I heard the muffled sound of a piano. I started to walk towards the source of that faint sound, and as the sound became clearer, my mind became blurrier. I was at the lower level of an enormous convention center surrounded by the hundreds of high-schoolers who received an invitation to the National Fine Arts, just like me. While I continued to walk closer to that sound, my lungs felt as if they would implode. I approached a large noise-cancelling wall, the only object separating me from where I would present my piano performance. I could feel the hard, cool ground as I sank into the floor withmy back up against the wall. Anyone else would be calmed by the majestic sound of the piano on the other side of the room, but as I sat against that wall, the music I heard seemed to emitting some sort of toxin that deprived me of the little sanity I had left. I couldn’t help but imagine the three professors who devoted their life to teaching music, stare me down for four solid minutes while I embraced the inevitable vulnerability that a performance like this would entail. As I sat against that wall, I looked back at the steps I took that lead me there. I thought about the many hours devoted to practicing, and the drive that was needed in order for me to succeed. Reminiscing further, I could recall a time when I wasn’t ambitious or self-motivated. Flashing back to the eighth year of my life, I could hear my brothers and cousins yell at me, “Quitter!” they shouted. I just walked away from the competitive chalk four-square game, something I was accustom to doing. The four-square was sketched the best a group of eight year olds’ could draw it, but occasionally my older sister would make it for us, using the geometry that she learned from school. It seemed that every time we drew the perfect four-square, it would rain the next day erasing everything except for the memories. We sketched it on the pavement where the cars were supposed to park; it was drawn beside the towering pine trees