Crimson

In a library, where only a single candle was lit, one could see many upon many shelves of books stacked up against each other. The book shelves seemed to go on forever as if there wasn’t a roof to the library, and they seemed to stretch on for eternity. After the first few book shelves, one wasn’t able to see anymore after that, but there was a sense that many more books lie ahead – waiting to be read.

Out all of them, I picked that one.

It seemed to call me for some reason. There were books that were colored beautifully and there were ones that were twelve inches thick. Yet, I chose the one that seemed so ordinary. It sat just second shelf from the ground, stacked up against an ultramarine book and a book that was pastel pink.

It just seemed to call out to me.

I gently pulled the book out, and the others tipped over slightly, like a domino being ruined. All of them ending in a seemingly quiet ‘thump’ but the echo trailed forever.

The cover was plain, but at the same time, it was beautiful. The hard bound leather was worn out, but all together, carefully used.

And I opened up to the empty pages in the book.

After flipping through a few more pages, I found that the book wasn’t blank. The words written within were the secret to another’s life. Another person’s story – their pathway, their past, their present, their future.

The beginning pages were wrinkled and the ink was smudged. It looked as if tears had been shed upon them. It seemed damaged, though; the stories were still crisp and ripe. It was still legible.

I sat there, carefully reading every single word, carefully flipping through the pages. I sat there by myself, where that one candle was lit, the flame gently swaying back and forth, flickering on and off every so often. That didn’t bother me though, I continued reading.

I heard a voice echoing the words which I read. It was gentle and soft. Soothing – it made me feel at peace and peace was something I haven’t felt in so long.

It seemed to have spoken to me.

The words unveiled their secrets to me. What came to me was a new and fascinating world, a world that I hoped to be a part of.

The book spoke to me of its past. The voice spoke of its life, the obstacles, the loves, the tragedies and the comedies. It spoke of untold fears and hopes. It unraveled hidden desires. It sang a song that not one other person could ever hear – no one but me.

With a voice, came a face. With that face, came a body. With that body, came a soul. With that soul, he appeared into my very own book, my own world.

Funny, how it all started with a simple, hi.

A Dream is not but a Dream

Her Legacy

Art is constantly in every individual’s life, whether it’s through television, music, painting, or even architect. It’s all around us. You’ll see posters decorated on all four corners on the classroom wall. You’ll see the graphic designs on television advertising Target or you’ll even hear the gentle strumming of the electric guitar on the radio station playing your favorite song. Whether people realize it or not, everyone is influenced by art.

I know I am. Art soothes me when I’m stressed. Art keeps me warm during the bitter winter. Art is what I read when I am bored. Art is what I live for.

It all started off with my grandfather, then my mother and then it came down to me. I am the third generation in the family tree of artists. As a child, my mom taught me that there were many different forms of art and she encouraged me to pursue in that field. It didn’t take too much encouragement, by the time I was four, I was grabbing crayons and doodling all over the white kitchen wall and marble dining table.

As a child, I’d always enjoy watching cartoons, particularly anime(Japanese animation). I was fond of the big eyes and super human powers like Sailor Moon. It wasn’t until when I was in fifth grade that led me to think about pursuing life in the art field. I started drawing anime similar to Sailor Moon and in no time, I found my passion.

Entering sixth grade, I found my best friend who had the same interest in me. Ever since our introduction in art class, we’ve been inseparable. The two of us have been in the same art class ever since then. We always have a lot of things to talk about, mostly because out interest are so common and we could talk about so many things.

It’s silly thinking about it now, but the memories are still there. Now, we talk about our futures together – about the colleges that we’ll attend and though the changes of us going to the same college is slim, we promised each other that we would both apply to the same art college when time comes for us to apply.

To this day, my mother still encourages me that I should major in the art field – though, if I were to major in the art field, I’d have to double major, otherwise I’d ‘starve’ myself, or so she says. To this day, I still plan to major in the art field, and my future looks brighter with every passing day…

His Legacy

For seven years, I have created a variety of sound from the little wooden instrument called a violin. For seven years, I learned that to music isn't just for leisure and entertainment, but it is an expression of the human soul. The violin, the bow, each an extension of my arms, working together in harmony to express myself to the world. But there is just once problem with this paragraph; it is focused on Me, Myself, and I.

A player can practice, get better, and be the best in his/her orchestra. He can be an All-Stater or an Outstanding soloist, and all are amazed at his talent and gift.  But yet, sometimes great players are part of a weak orchestra. The saying goes, "You are only as strong as your weakest link." Great players can outperform anyone in a solo, but when in an orchestra, they're amazing performance will be hindered by those weaker than them. Always competing and striving to be the top, they neglect the weak and continue their amazing performance, but still, the orchestra is still only strong as its weakest.

Orchestra is a team. I cannot exist with one person. Even a few would only be an ensemble. An orchestra is a single unit, a battalion, working together to perform one task. As a team, the weak should be led by the strong, but the strong should not just only lead, they need to aid. If the strong did not aid the weak, then the gap continues to grow until the orchestra is no longer one unit, but multiple single-man units. The strong are hindered by the weak, and so that gives all the more reason for the strong to bend down and give aid, so that the weak could rise up with the strong, and the unit thrives.

This is what I realized this year. I've been working for myself. I've acted on my behalf leading to many mistakes of selfishness. I wanted orchestra to be successful so that I would feel good about myself knowing I helped, but I should have wanted the orchestra to be successful so that the team would be satisfied that the hard work of cooperation not individualism led to success. We can't be successful if I am yet another is not. We all rise together, and we fall together, but we make the best of it.

After seven years, I finally learned the meaning of working as a team, a complete unit. By now, I believe it is a little late in my experience, but hopefully, others will realize it more quickly than I did, and that they will live up to cooperating with one another, to be another family, to lend a hand to those in need and pull them up, and to be one single unit, and not many single bodies.