By unlocking the door to (name) past, one

sees his thoughts and actions when they first

took hold of his persona. This essay serves

as a key to that door and to my current

personality.

The first beloved books in my life were the

Sesame Street Encyclopedia volumes. At

three, I wasn't old enough to read them, but I

always wanted to have them read to me. In

fact, I memorized the ten volume set so when

my parents would skip some pages I would

ask them to read what they skipped. After

learning to read on my own, my favorite book

became the anatomy volume in the Charlie

Brown Encyclopedia. Courtesy of a

supermarket book offer, I was the only

kindergartner who knew about fertilized egg

cells. As I grew older, I continued to read

largely because reading taught me so much

outside of what we learned in school.

Since kindergarten, my extensive reading also

originated my various interests, especially in

science. Living within walking distance of the

library, I went there every day, enabling me to

dabble in a different subject during each visit.

By the fourth grade, I had read all the

chemistry books containing fewer than 200

pages, by the fifth grade I was reading about

Einstein's Theory of Relativity. During that time

period, I became so interested in astronomy

through Odyssey Magazine that I sold holiday

cards door-to-door in order to buy a telescope.

Reading also helped me in school. A little

ingenuity didn't hurt, either. For example, as

part of my third grade reading grade, I needed

to do some independent reading. Every sixty

pages in a book counted for one star of credit

and in order to get an "A, " I needed fifteen

stars. I was greedy and saw this as an

opportunity to shine far above the rest of my

classmates. Instead of reading many short

books, I devoured 300-page sagas by Laura

Ingalls Wilder. When everyone else got

eighteen stars, the little banana with my name

on it had 45. This inner drive and competition

still motivates my work today, but

unfortunately, no one gives out stars anymore.

Despite this desire to do my best, I was quite

normal, except for a slight perfectionist's twist

to everything. I too owned a cabbage patch

doll, but it was taken away because I cared for

it excessively. On one Halloween, I dressed

up as Dracula just like a dozen other kids, but

I wanted my hair to look so realistic that it took

a week to wash out all the gel I used. Finally,

much like any other child, I fantasized about

adventures, but I took fantasizing one step

further. I recorded my make-believe

adventures on tape so they could be critiqued

afterward.

One of the few things I was not a perfectionist

at was my writing. Due to a lack of

self-confidence, I would plan papers well in

advance but put them off until the very last

minute. This habit continues today, accounting

for the transition-lacking

stream-of-consciousness style found in

almost all my writing. I just hope it appeals to

Cornell admissions officers.