I entered this competition to see if anyone would recognize some of his or her own feelings in my writing. Between two cultures there is so much lost in translation; and I wanted to bring to light some details that are often overlooked. From writing this essay I’ve realized that identity is amorphous, and can only be defined as the space between culture and experience.

My appreciation for language stems from my grandfather, who was the only fluent English speaker in the family. I admired his flawless elocution, his heavy New York accent. He was a multi-lingual beast sometimes, roaring in a frenzied Spanish, teaching me Chinese characters in the cool summer breeze, speaking to me always in Korean so I would not forget where I stood among the motley brew of people called Americans.

Grandpa was a rebel. We slept past twelve, we ate when we were hungry, we discovered what made us happy and we went after it (hence the frequent trips to convenience stores for lottery tickets and popsicles). He made it okay to break the rules. He said it was impossible to truly succeed in anything without taking risks, and he let me taste the thrill of crossing the line so I would not be afraid to do it alone.

So I write to remember my grandfather: his philosophies, his stinky brown loafers. My approach to writing reflects his approach to life, which is to be spontaneous, to go with gut reactions, to find the arrow of life in order to draw the tangents.

Other than that, my short term goal in life is to attend Yale University in a few months. Once there, I want to write fiction, prepare for medical school, perform scientific research, and take some art classes.

Fort Lee, NJ
Fort Lee High School (12th gr)

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