5th Period Musings On The Common App

A jerk. A nerd. A wimp. Perhaps. But Stephen Dedalus has is many ways formed me or, more accurately, defined me. Although Joyce’s protagonist predates me by nearly a century, when the novel’s cryptic words made their way into my consciousness, I, for the first time in my life, was reading myself.

Born the first son of an Irish Catholic only child father, my lot was, in essence, an awkward one. I was defined by my name, George, the fourth in a row of Georges whose history could be traced to the impoverished farmers of Ireland’s County Cork. Being raised my father’s son and a Catholic were two mantles that I could not remove regardless of how hard I tore at the fabric. Enter Stephen Dedalus my senior year of high school. Diving into the character’s thoughts and dreams, I saw my experiences reflected in the glass. Someone had lived my life! Someone knew what it meant to be relied upon to carry a family’s heritage and tradition like a sacred chalice to the altar of experience.

For years, I felt I was destined to a life that was full of indulgent reflection and its corresponding melancholy. I walked the world with the heavy steps of the seriousness of an “artist,” and I failed to realize that the character’s destiny wasn’t necessarily mine. Everything seemed to fit, love for art, frustration with the powers that formed us, but I finally realized that I was always going to be George and never Stephen. I was liberated from what I thought was my autobiography.

It was at this moment that the power of art became real. When I first read the text, my path wavered, my truths became less true, but now, nearly twenty years later, I know that my encounter was more that an undulation, it was a crossroads. Standing daily in front of young intellectuals, preaching the power of language and art and passion, Dedalus’ words, “This country and this life produced me, I shall express myself as I am,” still throb in my temples. However, time has tempered the character’s impact to that of a mentor, leading me away from some choices; he is no longer the feeble hero in whose steps I’m destined to tread.