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Monday, October 20, 2003Two Rooks and a Bishop (my admissions essay)Pawn e4. First move on a clean board, a new beginning with a new path leading to the unknown. Take control of my center, limit the space of my opponent, open up new opportunities for myself, learn to work in rhythm with every piece of the board. "Don’t surround yourself with yourself, move on back to squares" (From the band Yes-All Good People), but most importantly always remember that it’s just a game, and the only real strategy is to play my best while enjoying myself as much as possible.Isn’t it amazing how well chess relates to life? I am currently involved in chess lessons with International Master Jesse Krai, and although some of his theories of "Grasp the feel of the board", and "Feel kinetic energy between the pieces" are a bit beyond my comprehension, I find that I can take these crazy hoodoo-voodoo sayings and apply them to my life. They also make for great fortune cookies! I remember the turning point of my chess career, the day when it became more than just a game, and transformed into a leading streamliner of my creative talents. It was the final round of the K-3 New Mexico state championship, and going into the game I was undefeated with a score of 4-0. I was fairly confident throughout the tournament, keeping my game solid and waiting for my opponents to make an untimely mistake, at which I would pounce on them and destroy their defenses to claim my victory. I was 9 years old. And very, very competitive. The names for the final round were posted, and to my demise I found that I would be playing Danny, a boy that I had played many times before in many different tournaments…and lost every time. Resigned, I reproachfully told my Dad (who was then my coach) about it, and about my inevitable loss of the game and the championship. He told me this: "Don’t play the person. Play the board", and walked away. Somehow at the age of 9 I took this complex idea and somehow digested and applied it: I played the board. I was no longer facing this looming fear, this unsurpassable obstruction, I played a simple game of chess against a 14’’x14’’ wooden square checkered with 64 black and white squares inside of it. And I won. Next thing I knew I was holding this gigantic trophy that was twice my size, holding it over my head and beaming as the crowd applauded. Now I look back on that day and realize the true significance behind it: the task of casting away the cloak that fear hides behind and throwing it into the light to see its true form. There are so many responsibilities in life, and when compiled together they form this monstrosity that looms like a mountain in the distance, intimidating and unsurpassable. But even mountains can be broken into stones, just as a frighteningly ingenious little boy called Danny can be broken into a game played on 64 little squares. One of the core strategies to chess, "taking control of the center", is now key in my development as a person. For instance, during the last couple years I have been searching for what I stand for, the central theme that ties the miscellaneous strands of chess, racquetball, acting, genetics-geek, juggling circus clown that I passionately call "Me". The end result? Who knows? I’m still 18, I know several adults that still don’t know exactly what they stand for. Right now I am busy "Grasping the feel of the board" and helping myself to cookie crumbs along the way.
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