Chaos is a force beyond mere mortal comprehension. When it strikes, it strikes without warning, with no intent, leaving behind a state changed, and the mortals affected often in turmoil. But on very rare occasion, the changes heralded by chaos bring joy. It was one such moment that allowed me to even exist. My mother's pregnancy was a true miracle, and would be the only successful one that she would have in her all-too-short lifetime.
I was born in Japan to a salaryman and a stay-at-home mother, both from humble families of modest income. At the age of three, chaos appeared again, transferring my father's job overseas, and thus our family was uprooted to a new home in Atlanta, Georgia, USA. However, the significant raise that came with the transfer meant more obligations, and my father's job had him almost perpetually out of town from then on. Life plodded on, and nearly all of my time was spent with my mother.
As I entered grade school, my mother decided to enroll me in the Kid's Chess after school program to stimulate my mind, thinking it might teach me to think, thus helping me excel in school. As it seemed to please her, I dove into it completely, striving to make her smile at my success. I taught her how to play, and we always had a game in progress around the house from then on.
As the years passed, a sharpness overtook my mind and I began to dominate my peers at both chess and academics. It was in 5th grade that my talents for chess started raising eyebrows. I was poached for the state chess association and began competing at-level with my peers across the state. And I won, match after match I won. I was praised by my parents; my successes always made my mother smile. I worked harder and harder to excel, and eventually I found myself competing at the national level. It was clear then that I was meant for great things, and my parents were finally pressured into naturalization for me so I could play for the US at the international level. At age 14, I competed for the United States at the FIDE World Chess Championship in Sofia, Bulgaria, and joined the illustrious ranks of kids that have become grandmaster of chess at age 14 or younger. And that was when chaos smiled again.
There will only be so many times in one's life that chaos will usher in joy to a mere mortal. At some point, a payment comes due. My last week of school, a mere week after achieving my grandmaster title, I was called to the front office and informed that my mother had been killed that morning in a traffic accident. I went home with the neighbor kid and stayed at his house that night, and my father arrived home early from his business trip the next day.
My life was changed forever. My father's job prevented him from being there for me the way my mother had been, so I returned to Japan to live with my father's parents, my grandparents, while I finished my secondary education and my father continued to work in the US. I attended the final year of middle school, and all of high school, in Tokyo at elite, private institutions, with all of my earnings from my title going to pay for it. I avoided chess and anything like it, and instead joined swim team and the kendo club, throwing my all into physical activities so I didn't have to think much about how I had come to this place in my life.
As in primary school, my ability to eclipse the other students' performance persisted through secondary school. I excelled at both academics and my chosen sports, although I refused to compete in tournaments. My club advisors could never understand why someone would throw themselves so completely into something yet not want to go as far with it as possible. No one at either school ever did discover my former life that felt to me, even now, ages gone past.
Upon graduating high school, I returned to the United States, planning to live with my father again, this time as an adult, while enrolled at Georgia Tech in the Mathematics program. But chaos reared its reptilian head before me again. My father was hospitalized during the summer before I would start as a Freshman at Georgia Tech, and was subsequently diagnosed with cancer.
College evaporated before my eyes, and I withdrew before I had even started. Instead, I fast-tracked an education degree online in less than a year while doing everything I could for my father while he hung on as best he could. Such crummy circumstances these were in which to finally really get to know the man. But reflecting on it, I can't be angry. He'd done everything he could to provide a comfortable life for my mother and I. My current enrollment at Georgia Perimeter College to finally get my Mathematics degree is a testament to his hard work, that there was even this much left over after the devastating expense of treating such a terrible, and ultimately terminal, disease.
And, well, only a few more semesters remain before I can finally achieve that which I've desired for so long now. I'm part-time at GPC right now while teaching math for my third year at a nearby high school. Next semester, Summer semester, I'll be full time at GPC, taking as many credit hours as feasibly possible, and then after two more part-time semesters and one more full-time semester I'll graduate.
But first I have to make it through this free-elective anthropology class. I was interested in the subject, so it seemed a good fit when I signed up for it. But, I didn't realize how much extra time it was going to end up absorbing. Somehow, despite my already busy schedule, I was talked into helping a large group of students who are struggling with the class in the evenings. I'm still not sure how it ended up this way. This is the third night this week that I'm probably going to be up past midnight for no benefit of my own. I have papers to grade and lessons to outline. What am I going to do?