By Aden Mendoza

I lay on the floor of the family room in the purple dusk, the rough, brown carpet scratching my legs, as I pour over the book of charts. Nearly half my size, it appears as though the cavernous tome will swallow me whole, enveloping me in the knowledge between its covers, moving me like a portal. Astounded, my small hands turn the large, glossy pages and I view the beautiful, terrible pictures, reading the long medical terms which seem bursting at the seams, barely able to contain the complex meanings behind them. The nervous system alone uses so many words, each with so many connotations, to describe an evolutionary wonder. And yet, even in my young mind, I realize that these descriptions and depictions can never come close to describing the sheer mystery of humbling knowledge contained in one single part of the human body, that this vast spider’s web that is the reason for the whole of the consciousness of our species has trapped me, and surrounded by the web of knowledge, I am humbled, hoping to understand something, anything, from the vast array of wisdom.

The book was a portal. Initially a symbol for the end of my childhood, that helped me understand the birth of my brother, and the end of blissful ignorance at the start of my schooling, it became my glasses.  Through the lens of the book of medical charts, I learned to see the world, trying to understand the vast scholarship that is spun throughout our universe, and chastening myself in the awe inspiring realization that it is infinite. I became a curious young man with a passion for learning, a passion for trapping myself in webs due to my own lack of sight, and climbing these webs, traversing the twines to try to know enough.

Yet, as any scholar knows, there are never enough discoveries in the world to stop us from educating ourselves yet again, through motivation. The endless web is spun, respun, and extended by the spider of the universe. As learned men and women comprehend but one single line of the web, they are humbled to see that the web has grown even longer. I wish to empathize with these learned ones, and become meek in the process.

This is why I wish to follow the lines of the web of high school to be trapped in college. I wish to absorb what I can barely fathom, through the teachings of brilliant, skilled traversers of the web. I wish to seek new lines, new pathways, new twines in this search, this infinite, overwhelming web. As the dusk of childhood came with the web of the book of charts, the dusk of high school leads me to the sobering web of college. I welcome this ability to learn, ready for the process that will take me to the vast web of career. I am a blinded spider, crawling the webs in the hope of finding their edge, yet always knowing that the edge does not exist, that true knowledge is humbling in its infinity.