The purpose of this assignment was to write a short essay about how our personal statement and symbol apply to us in daily life. This answers the question ‘Who am I?’ because it give insight into my daily life and the things that I do.

Not Just Another Brick in the Wall

I’m sitting at my desk, watching the light reflected on the pinkish walls from the triangular light fixture on the ceiling, and the shadow of a lone LED strip hovering ominously over me. The clock in front of me tells me that it is three in the morning, so I promise myself once again that I will go to sleep within ten minutes. I rack my brain for much needed inspiration. One more line I think to myself, just one more. One more line is all I need before my song is complete. In the corner lies a dictionary covered with dust and duct tape. The very dictionary that my grandfather gave to my father when he left home for college. The same dictionary I used in grade school to expand my miniscule vocabulary. The allergen covered book stands its ground in the room like a war veteran. The only difference between this outdated dictionary and a more recent publication is the addition of newer words. When I build a sentence, I create an amalgamation of old and new. Why can’t the same thing be true for writing rock and roll? I can only create an original piece if I rely on older examples for guidance.

Printed on the first line of the first page is the word ‘aardvark.’ This throws me back to my childhood: a simpler time. I was just like any other kid, I would go to school, debate the outcome of the most recent episode of Arthur the Aardvark with the other children, and once I convinced all of the other children that I was right, I went home. One thing set me apart though, my love for rock and roll. Whilst other kids my age were listening to the Wiggles, I had already memorized all of the twenty-six songs on Pink Floyd’s The Wall.

etc.

More than ten years have passed since those days and here I find myself writing music as much as I listen to it. Every night I sit at my desk, hoping to pen something spectacular, but what comes from the end of my pencil is a poor excuse for a ballad. I violently thrust the tip of my pencil into the desk––another crater filled with graphite powder to add to the collection. I wonder whether my predecessors ever went through what I am going through right now. Did Robert Plant ever destroy his writing implements in anger? Did David Gilmour ever punch something out of frustration? One thing stands out in my mind above all else though: all of the greatest writers were only able to set themselves apart only after they allowed themselves to mimic the past. I can’t help but imagine what the world would be like if Bono had never adopted the soulful singing style of Joey Ramone or if Jimi Hendrix didn’t mimic the playing style of BB King. With a new purpose, I guide my pencil back to the paper.

My hand grows tired as my song comes to an end. Everything I’d learned from my role models came into practice: each song was getting progressively better than the previous one. At the end of the day though, those songs are just words. The dictionary of words remained same except for the addition of mine. The outdated dictionary had served its purpose: it created a template for every dictionary to come.