One defined moment does not immediately come to mind, as my determination to involve myself in the critical world was more of a casual inclination. I had always revered the previous year’s McLean Cappies with a tense and stumblingly idyllic admiration. Some doubt existed in my mind over whether or not my plow pulling, peasant-esque freshman of a self could muster the commitment and skill necessary to become a Cappie critic, and thus place myself on an even plane with the towering Seniors I saw before me. This deterred my actions to a considerable degree, and as such it was only this year, my sophomore year, that I have entrenched myself in a pallid yet passionate tomb of screaming deadlines, agonizingly early mornings and high school productions. I am unquestionably proud of myself for summiting this potentially self-constructed and notably bloated social pyramid, a pyramid which previously obstructed the sun of an enjoyable critical experience. After such an event I feel that it is important to clutch some shred of value, and to honor this belief it is with joy that I continuously remind myself of adolescent society’s ridiculous trivialities. If forced to summarize, I would say that the eventual defeat of personal insecurities and the frightfully relieving absence of last year’s celestial seniors is what drove me to become a Cappie.