Khan 1

Omar Khan
Ms. Gardner
English 10 Period 4
19 January 2015
A Library of Thoughts
In third grade, I discovered my library. I sat in Mrs. Beckmans class, cramped in the
book corner, protecting myself from all of the girls so I wouldnt get cooties. I distracted myself
with a book about a cat that could talk and juggle and sing. It had been written by a doctor, so it
must have been non-fiction. The room buzzed with voices of enthusiastic kids shouting out math
answers and slackers next to me talking about the latest Call of Duty. I pulled a new book out of
a shelf when someone asked a question from the math worksheet I had finished in half a second.
What is ten minus three and a tenth? he asked. I thought about that math lesson our
teacher gave us about fractions as I pulled out a book from the shelf. It seemed as if I pulled out
my math knowledge out of a shelf at the same time. My brain is a library! I told him the answer
in exchange for twenty Beckman Bucks, and began storing. I soon began putting in ideas,
thoughts, memories: everything. This is the way I think. Alone in my cavernous library.
My library has books about everything Ive learned since that moment in third grade, that
math book that I first pulled out. It has plenty of empty pages begging to be filled in, and plenty
of pages written with past experiences. When I feel sad, I read a happy book. When I take an
algebra test, I check out a math book. These books are not written in words, but rather in senses:
smells, sights, textures, tastes, sounds. This is how I remember things, by temporarily re-living
the moment. All of the math equations, the seemingly random science facts, patterns that nobody
bothers to notice. I shelf them all.

Khan 2
I never became interested in the science behind the brain until I reached high school. One
night, as I heard crickets chirping quietly outside my window, silver poured onto my desk,
illuminating the diagram of the brain I gawked at. I had been fascinated by the mechanical
intricacy, the meticulous organization of it all. I asked the teacher, Ms. Holly, during class the
next day about the method of sending impulses to stimulate other motor neurons.
Well, yes, the differently charged sodium and potassium ions are what cause the
electrical signal. But that isnt until next semester. Why are you reading this now? she asked,
and in a rare display of emotion, I could have sworn she looked. . . curious.
I flipped to the wrong page in my textbook and saw this diagram, I replied quickly,
pointing to the picture. It interested me, she shrugged and resumed staring at her monitor with
a blank face until the end of the period. I continued to read about the brain, continued to think,
continued to wonder. What would it be like to be in another persons brain, in another persons
library? What kinds of books would they have? What language would they be in? Would they be
written in words, or would they be written in smells, or pictures, or sounds, or feelings? Maybe
windows that others could peek into? Would they even have a library at all?
Sophomore year required many trips to my library. All of the elements I memorized, all
of the vocabulary words I knew for a day or two, all of the Spanish grammar lessons. Although I
had more difficult classes, one class stood out from all the others: second period Algebra II. I had
always plunged headfirst into mathematics, but had never really gone beyond. I never asked why
something worked. I never thought about the actual meaning of numbers. One day we had a test,
which consisted of two portions: a calculator and non-calculator portion. I had always challenged
myself to not use a calculator during math, so I didnt take mine out, smiling as I saw everyone
else pull out their electronic brains, while I decided to use the one God gave me. However, when

Khan 3
presented with a problem that asked for the maximum and minimum value of a cubic, I had no
idea how to start. I swallowed my pride and slowly took out my calculator. But I knew as soon as
I went home I would figure out how to find those numbers, to think like the calculator. As soon
as I got home I went to work. Relentlessly slaying paper after paper and idea after idea, desperate
to find a formula I trudged on through the transition from one day to the next. There were times
where I had been tempted; my eyes darted to the computer for answers, I wanted to give up. But
as I found myself hiding the computer in my closet under a pile of clothes, I knew I had to do
this. I took a sip of my water and a bite of my bagel, both stale from hours of work. Glancing at
the clock through sleep-deprived eyes, it read 4:19 am. I knew I had to sleep. I layed down and
slept to the symphony of numbers. I woke up, and showered myself in more math. With a fresh
mind I got what I wanted: my formula. Ecstatic, I tried to show my dad my victory, but he
couldnt understand my reasoning. Only my answer. Not my mind. Not the book. My books were
foreign to him. However, I realized that books can be understood by all, but notes were legible
only for those who wrote them. My library had been false. A library is filled with books, but
mine had been filled with notes that I had copied from other peoples work. I felt proud as I put
my first book in. That first math book I put in. But as my library became more full with books, it
felt more empty. I thought about life without my library. Without my brain.
What would we do without our brains? The ancient Egyptians removed the brain during
the embalming process but, unlike most of the important organs, did not preserve it in a jar for
use in their next life. Why would they not think the brain is important? Did they did not know of
its actual purpose because they didnt have the necessary tools? But others didnt either and still
inferred its importance. The ancient Greeks were polytheistic, one of their Gods being Minerva,
the Goddess of wisdom. Its said that Zeuss head ached, so he asked another God to crack his

Khan 4
skull with an axe. With one mighty swing, Minerva emerged from Zeuss head; the Goddess of
Wisdom and rationality, born out of the head of the King of Gods. But why did the Greeks
associate the brain with rationality? What is rational about the random strings of thought, the half
written ideas, the odd scenarios that our brain conjures?
I personally believe in one God as I am Muslim, though this does not make the existence
of the brain any less strange. How does all of that gray mush contain all our knowledge? All our
memories? All our passions? For intuitiveness, emotions, and creativity are what make humans
unique: almost divine. What have we done to deserve such a sacred reward? Why has God given
me a library? I have no idea. But I do know one thing: I wont waste it. I wont reject my gift
from God Himself. I will use it until its books are tattered from overuse and withered from age.
My library is a gift. It allows me to remember so much, to organize the randomness of my mind.
I dont know why Ive been given this head start on life, but Im grateful. As I laid in my bed on
sleepless nights, thinking of my gift I once felt isolated, but soon I realized I had not been alone.
Far from it. About seven billion people off. God hasnt just given me a gift, He has given all
humans a distinct ability. For some He gave a natural talent for music, or a divine hand for art, or
a beautiful mind for mathematics, or a witty mind for English, or fast reflexes for sports.
For others, a library of thoughts.