“The lecture hall is like an elevator, you let the people inside get out before you push in, asshole!” The big dude shoves past me. Everyone else shoulders me as I squeeze past, eyeing me with indignation. I quietly lower my eyes and pretend not to hear them, my heart heavy with scorn and embarrassment. Yes, I am that jerk that always tries to get into the lecture hall even before the previous session has been dismissed. shoving to the front of the class in order to snatch the best seats. It is something I do day in and day out, and everytime I am hated for doing it. But I do it regardless, because it is something I must do in order to learn during lectures. In fact, it is something I must do in order to be able to see the lecturer at all.I have been blessed since birth with an acute vision disability, one that has yet to be correctable via modern medical technology. The doctors say that I am, by their standards and in effect, legally blind. However, I consider myself blessed because I do not have to see the world as it is. Rather, I see it how I want to. I can only imagine how mundane the world can be if everything is so clear and crisp. It takes away the imaginative aspects of interpretation. Dependency on sight as opposed to sound and feeling is like watching a movie as opposed to reading a good book. Everything is laid out for you to see; there is nothing to imagine, no room for proactive appreciation.And so, this is who I am, someone who sees the world as he sees fit. Why do I do it? Not simply because I have to, but because I would never want to have it any other way. My perspective is unique to me; I simply fill in the blurry bits with my own imagination. It is difficult in life to experience anything much more exciting than that. And suddenly I am not so embarrassed anymore about being the jerk who pushed past people in order to get to the seat in the front.whyessay-jamesluo403796594-1k.doc
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