What it Means to Be Me by Sascha

What it Means to Be Me by Sascha - May 2017 Scholarship Essay

Ex-musician meets Desert Biologist. Of course, they don’t tie the knot until I am eight years old. Where else would The Professor marry The Pupil? Death Valley. Inappropriate relationship? Maybe. Successful? Absolutely. And here I am the amalgam of both worlds. When I’m not competing in surf competitions, I’m watching John Ford’s The Quiet Man. When I’m not gazing at Michelangelo’s The Creation of David, I’m a prima donna performing in Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta The Pirates of Penzance. When I’m not buying fruit at the farmer’s market down the street, I’m playing Mozart’s Piano Sonata in C major on the Schafer & Sons in my living room. When my impulse, like my mom, was to confront the anti-Israel protesters in York, England, my sensibility, like my dad, convinced me to remain silent.
It wasn’t planned since my birth that I become a lawyer or a doctor. I haven’t taken SAT prep classes since kindergarten or been groomed to ace tests, but the importance of education was nevertheless an invariable constant throughout my childhood. My interests resemble gas molecules in a system while the temperature consistently increases; they are all over the place. Whether I am reading about the Egyptian gods of the underworld or standing at the base of the Parthenon, whether I am chanting the Torah’s depiction of the creation of world or studying the behavior of ground squirrels in the Mojave Desert, this is my norm.
Our trio operates under a full disclosure agreement; we don’t have secrets. From financial problems to mom’s depression to dad’s predisposition to heart attacks, there is no fine print. I know others may think we are “distinct”, but our oddness was never odd to me. Quite the opposite, it’s my superpower. I’m oddly curious. If I’m walking down the street and I see a bird, I’ll go home and look up everything about it. Did you know that southern California’s House Sparrow is related to the Common Sparrow found thousands of miles away in eastern Asia?
I’m sixteen, and even though I have more birthday years than my parents have anniversary years, I’m not searching for something to complain about. I’m lucky, I’m darn lucky, and I know it.