I am a chameleon with my choir. “Oh my son...” I cannot ever be a father, mourning the death of my son. But on stage, I can. Even delving into my “googled” knowledge on the story of David and Absalom, I strive to forget who I am for three minutes, and think in the perspective of David. Our collective eye contact blinds the powerful stage lights. Applause, Switch. Relying on jazzy tune for boldness, I manage to pull off a sultry look on my face. Putting my perpetual awkwardness aside, I confess my love to the audience; “you are my centerpiece.” I savor my hazy conviction that the audience loves me back. But I can hear my friend, snickering at my unnatural state. Choir has taught me that my viewpoints and knowledge must be flexible. By singing the stories of many characters immersed in their perspectives, I learned the importance to value others' standpoint, even if it meant putting aside my point of reference. Choir has become my intellectual motivation. My developed attitude to consider others' angles has allowed me to be a student of diverse knowledge. During debates in class, my classmates tend to restrict their positions according to their upbringings: religion, politics, socioeconomic class, and etcetera. However, choir has taught me that even if I am a devout catholic, my views can be vulnerable to the perspectives of others' worldly views. It has taught me that I can consider both positions of the two American political parties. Just as singing, clothed