College App Main Essay
Blinded by the sudden light from an ajar door, I froze for a while. Behind, Simon was fiddling with the microphone while Donghun was still tuning his guitar. Feeling the cold wind whistling in the night air, I caught a glimpse of the mosh pit. A flush of enthusiasm bursting out from three hundred audiences reverberated across a small gym. Taking a step forward to the stage, I dived into the realm of rock 'n roll.
Five minutes ago, the school party manager plopped down next to me backstage. "I'm still not sure," she muttered, "what this party can bring to you guys." Traditionally, junior performers would disband in the summer to prepare for arduous senior life. However, our band decided to keep performing until the Christmas party. "At least I can wear this eye-catching costume once more," smiled I, pointing at my cheapie curly wig. "Well," she sighed, "I know the passion of your band, but who else would recognize it?" For a moment, I wondered whether I belong to a silent study room, not a clamorous concert. Too late. The MC shouted our name—"Here comes…BAND105!"
Through thunderous cheers, drummer Allen shouted at me on the stage. "The red one, again?" Where he pointed laid a worn-out Peavey bass amplifier. Silently nodded, I equipped my magic formula for perfect EQ setting—Bass knob at eleven o'clock, Middle at one, and Treble at ten. But the veteran amp barely gave me a chance to tame her, as usual. As I flicked the power switch, a strident sound released from her squashed other instruments. Salute to her stubbornness. "TURN-DOWN-the-volume!" Allen yelled while plugging his ears, and my heart started to tremble like a broken massager. Through gentle touches on knobs, however, I gradually dissolved my bass to the sound of our band.
After soundcheck, the show finally began. Tranquil intro consisted of caressing fingers and whispering lips. With Simon's finger-snap entered Allen and I. My wrist flicked across E and A strings, conducting the audience to sway from side to side. But my strained fingers often messed up the tempo and tune. Struggling to fret the accurate notes, I suddenly encountered familiar faces from the mosh pit. Stretching his arms under me, my roommate Kyu was there. Next to Kyu stands Jennifer. We used to share a can of soda during break times. Watching hundreds of faces beyond, I came up with different anecdotes—some vivid, some blurred. All of them deviated from everyday life and arrived in front of the stage. Surprisingly, I was the unfettered rockstar on that special stage, popped out from their normalcy. Vitalized by exuberating audiences, I found myself aiming my Fender bass toward the crowds, expressing gratitude to three hundred artists for such a wonderful performance. The melody gradually drooped to the floor, and after a moment of silence, everyone in the gym murmured. "And she's buying a stairway to heaven…"
Three minutes after, I perch on a backstage bench again. Instead of amps and a drum set, only my bass guitar lies next to scattered equipment boxes. Polishing the fretboard with maintenance oil, I gaze at a window. A gust of cold wind chills my body. All the lightings and costumes now vanish. The rock band, which I've dedicated for the last two years, disbands. The gleaming scene of today will be the faded past of tomorrow. When nothing is guaranteed, can I take a step forward to the next stage?
As I grip the neck of my bass, warmth spreads over my arms. Throughout my school life, that excitement became solace while I was regretful, stimulus while frustrated, and vigor while angsty. Scratches upon rusty strings understand all of my adversities, finally reminding the unpredictable freedom on the stage. Whatever I'll encounter, I'm going to make it, too.
And as such Rock 'N Roll stands to me: to be a rock and dare to roll.