College Admissions Essay: An Meaningful Activity

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When the horsehair is one millimeter over the A string is when I wonder if my cue has been strong enough. It is too late, however, to turn back. I have started the quartet, and with the ictus of my violin's scroll, the sound is released. The first seconds of connection between horsehair and metal string are the most important. I concentrate on controlling my right index finger as every inconsistency in the fluidity of my hand magnifies itself in my ears. Under my chin the wood begins the vibration that lets me know I am connected to the sound. Only I can hear the secret nervous bounce of my bow as I speed up my right forearm and the impurities in my contact with the string that are masked by the distance between my first violin chair and the first row of audience. The imperfection is what I love. Only one note has passed, but as I relax my shoulder for the reversal of my bow, I strive to make the next one more beautiful. There is a never-ending series of notes. At the conclusion of this phrase, the downbeat brings the capital letter of a new sentence. At the end of this movement, there is another.

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