A neon installation by the artist Jeppe Hein in UChicagos Charles M.

Harper Center
asks this question for us: Why are you here and not somewhere else? (There are
many potential values of "here", but we already know you're "here" to apply to the
University of Chicago; pick any "here" besides that one).
Inspired by Erin Hart, Class of 2016

From There to HereA Lyrical Journey Toward Self-Confidence and a Modicum of Sanity
Lets face it. We live in a society consumed by angst and self-doubt. The incessant
complaints, the whining, the muttering: Im too fat, Did he mean his right, or my right?,
Should I tip the toll booth agent? Im no different. For years, I was unable to find an effective
way to cope in such a critical world. Too old to bite my classmates and perhaps too young to
drink, I nearly concluded that there was no escape, however briefly, from these interminable
insecurities. At least not while still leaving those around me relatively unharmed. Then, came the
solution. The one beautiful solution which set my soul alight, purged my mind of sadness, and
freed me from the shackles of insecurity. I discovered the practice of singing in the shower.
The tiles gleam under soft, yellow lights. Drops of water tumble and roll, merging and
sliding down the surrounding walls. The scents of rich lavender and sweet jasmine settle like an
aromatic blanket over the scene. Puffs of steam cloud the air, warming, settling, calming.
Already, tensions recede, stresses melt, and the cascading water carries my problems away.
Feeling empowered, I begin to sing. The notes are quiet, timid at first. Then they swell, growing,
echoing, and filling the surrounding silence. In those moments, I forget self-consciousness, I
forget worry. I forget every negative thought and feeling and marvel, Dear God, Im a rock
star.
While singing in the shower I forget reason, I forget logic. I forget all knowledge of
physics, acoustics, and sound waves; I forget whatever stands in the way of my newfound
confidence. In that moment, naivety is no longer a hindrance, but a blessing. The joy that stems
from Adele-like brilliance can only be achieved through self-deception. So, I accept my
delusional feelings of grandeur, I accept my break from the pains of inadequacy. Emboldened,
encouraged, energized, I find myself thinking that if such melodic perfection is possible,

A neon installation by the artist Jeppe Hein in UChicagos Charles M. Harper Center
asks this question for us: Why are you here and not somewhere else? (There are
many potential values of "here", but we already know you're "here" to apply to the
University of Chicago; pick any "here" besides that one).
Inspired by Erin Hart, Class of 2016

everything is within reach. Far from disillusionment, this self-assured feeling allows for the few
risks I do take. Anytime I voice my beliefs, try something new, or write an essay on a seemingly
ridiculous topic, I have singing in the shower to thank.
Two and a half minutes of elation. Two and a half minutes of freedom. Two and a half
minutes is all it requires to take me from the neurotic to the norm. I believe that these two and a
half lyrical minutes temporarily negate the effects of a critical world, leaving room for happiness
in its most primitive form- happiness with oneself. It is probably the type of happiness that spurs
the world forward, keeps people smiling, and, to stretch a point, encourages risk taking and
innovation. The ultimate proof of the merits of singing in the shower may well be a counter
argument. No longer will I wonder why George Washington and his colonial brethren appear so
troubled in their portraits. I, too, would look anguished if I had to sing in a bucket bath every
day!