An end-of-the-year party

I keep thinking back to an end-of-year, or rather end-of-the-decade, party I went to last Friday. My friend from middle school hosted this party and invited our friend group. While parents hung upstairs to socialize, we were able to hang out in the basement. It was amazing to catch up. 

I learned about the classes my friends are taking, their school newspaper, orchestra, their cross country experiences, and the other people in our grade. They asked me about boarding school and how it differed from my day school experience. We talked about new movies coming out and seamlessly transitioned to watch a funny SNL clip while nibbling on some delicious chocolate mousse.

What takes me by surprise every time I think back to that night is how easy it was to hang out with my old friends. In all honesty, before the party, I feared we wouldn’t get along like we used to since high school took each of us separate ways. Some left the friend group. Some new faces joined. Some left the school. Nonetheless, when we reconvened nothing held us back from socializing. The fluidity of our conversation almost made me question whether we’d ever been apart in the first place. 

Going to this party helped me realize that I always have a place amongst this group of friends regardless of how time has contorted my perception of our friendship. Most importantly, I’ve experienced the power of maintaining friendships and the potency of human connection. One of the difficult things about life is that it’s like a train. We hop off at a stop and we meet people there. However, it appears that once we hop onto the train to discover new adventures, we may never reconnect with those old friends again. 

I believe it requires a conscious effort to go back and find time to meet up with old friends. It’s like hopping onto a train to rendezvous at a new stop. Human connection is by far one of the hardest things to maintain due to the nature of a life’s path, but I’m grateful to be getting practice now. This only makes me wonder how much harder it will be post-college after we all find ourselves in different cities. But maybe that's just the nature of life. Nevertheless, I'm grateful to have been able to catch up with my old friends and to feel as if I belong even through the challenges of time and distance. Thank you.

2019

2019 is almost to a close. Every year flies by faster and the boundaries between years seem to bleed into the next. Years used to remain contained within itself, almost like the closing of a book. At New Year’s Eve, it would be time to store that book onto the bookshelf. It hasn’t felt that way this year. What happened last year remains constant in my present-day life; the book seems to have acquired new pages and grown longer. 

While winter is a cold time of year, I don’t actually despise it. I enjoy this time of year because of the festive lights which compromise the early darkness and I enjoy the smell of pumpkin spice at Starbucks. While the streets empty out earlier in the winter, people return home to warmly lit houses where they can be with their families. This time of year is also a time of reflection. 2019 didn’t feel like an entire year. It felt too fast. Everything fell into place quickly and changes were difficult to make. It was also a year where second-guessing repeatedly lead to mistakes. Nike’s motto “Just do it” would accurately describe the way I felt about my work ethic. 

I feel I matured this year. When I say “matured”, I don’t exclusively refer to having grown older, but rather I understand myself better. I believe there comes a time where everyone solidifies who they want to be and move away from different “phases” of childhood. There’s this saying that every teenager goes through the rebellious stage before they grow up. While I didn’t exactly go through a rebellious stage per say, the concept of exploring my identity involves venturing out onto a tightrope. I think this year, I’ve found myself walking off that tightrope onto solid ground. In discovering who I strive to be, I’ve grown more comfortable in my own skin as a byproduct. This new comfortability with myself is what I fluidly refer to as “matured”. 

This year, I began caring more about etiquette. It’s something I’ve never cared quite as much about until this year when I realized how etiquette is a sign of respect for oneself and others. I’ve become more mindful this year. 

Finally, I feel I’ve become a stronger writer this year not because I’m receiving more positive feedback on my essays but because I know what good writing looks like. Or rather…feels like.  The words and ideas of Yuval Noah Harari, the author of Sapiens, articulate so fluidly it’s as if Harari’s analysis is a revelation I’ve personally worked through. Clear writing speaks to the reader almost to a personal level. Harari left no room for misinterpretation of his ideas, which is how I feel I’ve been able to connect with them. This is something I hope to accomplish in my writing. 

So here I am. About to move onto a new decade at the age of 17. In all honesty, no matter how grand a moment this may feel, I do not think I will remember it 50 years from now. 2019 marks the end of the decade and therefore the end of many trends. Music tastes, style, and fashion will inherently change in the new decade. Whatever it may be, I cannot wait to see what 2020 brings. Cheers to the new decade.

Our greatest happiness

"Our greatest happiness does not depend on the condition of life in which chance has placed us, but is always the result of a good conscience, good health, occupation, and freedom in all just pursuits." -Thomas Jefferson

While one shouldn't need to actively pursue genuine happiness, happiness is no accident. 

When I've barely tasted the world

It occurred to me that I’ve barely tasted the world. In high school, I’ve found myself increasingly consumed in the life that’s right in front of me that sometimes I forget there’s a world and a life outside of what I’ve seen. 

My life, as it rightly should today, consists of classes, studying, working out, eating, and going to the occasional dance on a Saturday night.  In all honesty, this is what my life has consisted of for the past 17 years. I joined some girls in my dorm this past week and from the start of the conversation, I could sense just how much more of the world they had encountered. One girl, whom I enjoy talking to a lot, spoke of going to clubs in Hong Kong, going out with friends at midnight, and traveling around Italy by herself. She spoke of all the people she met, all the wild (and perhaps slightly rebellious) things she did, and her experiences. I have a low-quality poker face and I don’t think I hid my surprise well. 

Going to clubs? Going out at night? At home, I have never left my house after 10 PM. I swear. I’ve never even gone outside in the dark by myself. I’ve never been to a club. I’ve rarely spent a night not at my house or at school. I’ve never even traveled by myself. 

I do not feel like I’m missing out on anything, as I quite enjoy the predictability of my current lifestyle. It’s merely been enjoyable to consider all the things I haven’t done in my life yet, a break from the to-do list in front of me. Sometimes it’s hard to imagine a life where I don’t have to do homework or study. Perhaps it’s gotten so ingrained in my lifestyle that I can’t imagine what I would do if I didn’t have a pile of papers to write or history texts to read. I suppose this is what people refer to as the “high school bubble”. It is the years where students become so ingrained in work they forget another lifestyle and other things exist. 

In that same conversation, my friend also told me about how many more types of people exist in this world…more types than I can imagine. Boarding schools attract a certain type of student and sometimes we forget that other people exist in this world. I’ve become too familiar with the people I interact with on a daily basis that I find myself utterly clueless to the people my friend talks about. My friend tells me that, like all my limited experiences, I’ve already met a very limited number of people. Though Andover’s campus in unequivocally diverse, nothing compares to the level of diversity I’m bound to encounter when I enter the real world. 

In a way, I’m curious whether college will bring about more firsts. Perhaps one must wait until after school to truly experience another lifestyle and meet more types of people. Or perhaps I will never experience the glamour my friend describes in her independent adventures. Even though I sometimes feel as if I’ve met many kinds of people and experienced a lot of things, my friend warns me that I have much more to see. Another really important realization I’ve had is that due to my limited experiences, my perspective about many things is also quite narrow. Perhaps if I experience more, I will become more empathetic towards others. One thing I can almost guarantee through hearing my friend’s experiences is that movies aren’t totally inaccurate :)

17

Although I’m merely one day older, yesterday, I added an additional year to my age. I’m 17 now, a number that feels miles more grandiose than 16 for inexplicable reasons. My age falls on the upper end of high school and I’m one year from adulthood. Even though I near independence, I still sometimes feel like a twelve-year-old. It's when I see an actual 12-year old that I realize how far I’ve come. Sometimes I see middle schoolers socializing around a small table in Starbucks, sipping their drinks with their pinkies pointed towards the ceiling, a moment where I realize I’m actually 17. 17 straddles the middle ground between the middle school Starbucks refreshers and the adult parties with wine, leaving me curious about what this time really means.

What a wonder age is. It’s effortless and in a blink of an eye, I find myself more than halfway done with high school. I can’t wait to see what this year holds for me. Thank you to my parents and my friends who have made this past year so wonderful. 

Upper fall reflection

My upper-year fall term has officially ended and returning home, I feel the imminent end-of-year holiday spirit. This is my favorite time of year. Even though the days are short and the nights long, I sense people’s spirit when I walk outdoors. When I go to stores downtown, I see the inklings of holiday decorations. Something I feel I write about almost every year around this time is the angle of the setting sun. It casts a warm, golden glow at an ideal 45-ish degree angle around 4 PM, perfect for taking photos or simply enjoying the atmosphere on a jog. This time of year feels like putty. The spirit of the holiday season almost molds itself into various holes in my life at the time being. I’m grateful for the upcoming season and spending much needed time at home with my family and a TV. 

I’ve been reflecting upon this past term. One thing I find interesting about upper year is the “hype” around it. In previous years, when someone told me they were an Upper, it consternated me with respect and utter impressiveness that they were merely alive. As an underclassman, I legitimately thought upper-year would kill me from day one. Yet here I am…writing a blog post about the hype. Having survived my first term, I can safely say that upper year does not have to be as bad as what I anticipated as an underclassmen. I think a stigma always exists for people who aren’t living in the moment described, in part because we play a passive role when we hear stories of struggle. For me, hearing about upper year always sounded a lot worse than actually being in it. The long nights, all-nighters, and zero free time felt all too real and going into my upper year, I feared a similar experience. 

I remember talking to Uppers in my dorm who liked to remind underclassmen that they were Uppers. While for some people the “hype” of Upper year really does exist and comes to fruition from day one, I think this experience varies by individual. I believe the continued legacy of the upper year hype arises from those who experience it most. It’s through individual experiences that stigmas around certain years come to be. For me at least, this fall term has gone better than my last fall term, where I couldn’t go to bed until at least midnight every night. Having been on this campus for two complete years already, I’ve also found places both on and off-campus to hang out. This has helped me destress and concentrate at critical moments.

Last week, I talked to some trusted seniors about their experiences, concerned that maybe I wasn’t pushing myself hard enough. They warned me that perhaps the hype hasn’t hit me yet, a fact that hadn’t escaped my thoughts. Yet one of my friends on the soccer team told me she felt her upper year was just like any other year of high school with a greater emphasis on performance. For her at least, the “hype” of Upper year didn’t hit either. Upper year, more than any other, is very formulaic and in a way, tedious. I think the strict schedule and routine helps me stay focused and prepared. I know when I’ll have free time, I know how much time I need to allot for a particular assignment, and I now know my personal limits.

This term, I’ve been striving to focus more on the process of learning rather than the outcome. I’ve found that this has helped me enjoy subjects I used to not enjoy in the past. I think I will continue to work with this mentality next term. In focusing on the process of learning and in the topics themselves, I’ve found a genuine purpose to my studying rather than just following the syllabus. This term, I feel as if the new schedule has worked in my favor and I’ve really enjoyed my newfound free time from work. Though I’m only ⅓ of the way through the year, it has gone by quickly thus far. I’m eager to take on what’s to come, likely in some blizzard storms. Cheers to winter term. 

Ageism truly exists

Ageism truly exists. I’ve heard referrals to the term most often in workplaces, occurring in scenarios where a manager is younger an employer for instance. I’ve refused to believe that people formed judgments based on someone’s age up, but this term has taught me quite differently. 

For the first time since I’ve been at Andover, my age leans towards the older side. We call that upperclassmen here. I didn’t believe it until I became one, but people really do treat upperclassmen better. My high school’s social scene is quite similar to that of many others even though we’re a boarding school, so I would like to assume that I’m not jumping to any dramatic conclusions or making small-sample generalizations. I’ve been trying to distinguish whether the number or simply extra years of existence on this Earth engender this nouveau degree of respect. But I’ve noticed that new students who come in as upperclassmen encounter the same level of treatment as returners, indicating that it is indeed age rather than experience that dictates treatment. 

When I say that upperclassmen are treated better, I feel it boils down to more than just respect. It’s genuinely a new feeling which I haven’t experienced before and I’ve noticed that people from all grades treat my friends and I differently, not just the lowerclassmen. The seniors say hi to us without hesitation, a line I’m assuming they wanted to keep clear when they were in our shoes last year when we were lowerclassmen.  People do more than just be nice in your presence. I’ve noticed that younger students hold conversations for longer because they want to talk with older students. They volunteer more readily in club events in my opinion. They are also more accepting of our flaws than older students.  

I think 10th grade was particularly difficult before I was sort of stuck in that time when I was older and more experienced than freshmen but not quite old enough to blend in with the upperclassmen. For me last year, I remember that being a particularly confusing time. I couldn’t fathom why the girl who was one year older stopped talking to me and saying hi. It struck me that age had played a role when she started waving to me again and conversing small talk this year, her a senior and me a junior. I’m also reminded of the time when a club leader didn’t make it to a meeting. His explanation to his younger co-head was: “I’m an upperclassman. I’ve got a sh*t ton of work to do!”. I've been trying to work through why some upperclassmen perpetually use age as an excuse. Perhaps creating distance with age commands for more respect.

I think it’s important for older students to recognize this new power that come with ageism, for better or for worse. I believe a large part of it has to do with how one utilizes age as a platform. Teachers expect more our of behavior and the librarians become angrier when upperclassmen stir up noise. When I think back to my experience as a lowerclassmen, I remember my respect for AR, a girl who was two years older than me in my dorm. AR was a gamechanger in my sophomore year. She didn’t judge my youth or perceived innocence and she made me feel important and valued. She’s the type of upperclassmen I strive to be. I remember asking her for advice about life and she never belittled my desire to learn. She spent time with me, disregarding the fact that I was younger than her. She’s the type who doesn’t see age as a barrier and use it as a rationale for ignorance or belittling. She recognized everyone’s value, never using age as an excuse from responsibilities.  Thank you, AR, for showing me who I could be. As I’ve written about before, with age comes responsibility. With this responsibility and power, there are innumerable things we could do. I've strived to look past these barriers of age and seek to learn something from everyone. In doing so, I want to break down some of the stigmas and intimidations younger students may have towards older students and I hope to garner respect from my peers through not my age but through my actions. It's in these ways that I believe we can tackle ageism. 

Loneliness

In EBI, our class repeatedly recircles to the topic of friendship and loneliness. To be alone. A curse and a gift on this campus. Walking alone can become awkward when one passes by a large group of people coming from dinner as I walk into the dining hall. They look me in the eye. I look back, my eyes saying yes, you bet I’m going to dinner alone. Or on the sidewalks when I pass by a large group of people, all of them laughing and having fun. Me, taking out my phone to de-awkward the encounter. In truth, our smartphones have blossomed into more than just the black or silver boxes that detract us from productivity, keep up connected to the web of information all at our fingertips, or help us communicate with friends; smartphones diminish the necessity of social interaction by making us seem “occupied” when we’re on our phones. Maybe I’ll know a couple of the members in the cluster, but when I take out my phone, I make the conscious decision to avoid discussion and to avoid that awkward sensation of being alone. 

In all honesty, I used to be okay with being alone. I was very much proud of the fact that I could walk from building to building, eat meals, and study alone comfortably. My views have changed and I have mixed feelings about being alone. When I’m alone, some of the worst characteristics in me manifest. Self-detriment for one. Frustration another. Emphasize of flaws, a third. When I’m with others, I’ve discovered my mind no longer has time, breathing space, to bring myself down with negative thoughts. I’m too occupied in a conversation about other people’s days and ideas that the burdens of my own feel lighter. 

The idea of being alone. After our discussion in EBI this past week, I couldn’t help but notice every single symptom of loneliness that I seem to possess. There is something odd about my social life growing up. My peers speak of staying at home alone during breaks every day as an oddity. They talk about hanging out with friends, going to the movies with them, just hanging out at each others’ houses. Though I don’t mention this in class, I spend most of my breaks staying at home. I infrequently meet up with friends. I’ve seen breaks as an opportunity to recuperate after a term of work for almost my entire life and get ahead on work. After all, breaks are usually less than two weeks long and I find it difficult to schedule times to meet up with people. When my peers speak of the vivacity of their friendships and their outings, I can’t help but wonder the frequency of these days (the way they’ve spoken about staying at home makes it seem like several times every week) and whether an element of exaggeration influenced their storytelling. I’m genuinely curious about how others spend their time at home. For me at least, it’s alone. 

Growing up an only child, perhaps I simply don’t know what it means to be lonely. I’ve never questioned my social life or considered the notion that I may be lonely. I’ve just never had anyone else to hang out with casually. When I’m not put into a scene like a school where I can instantly surround myself with people by virtue of the nature of the school environment, I’m okay with being by myself at home. I now wonder whether I truly am, by my peers’ definition, lonely. Regardless of the answer, I strongly believe that though lonely, we’re never alone. 

Things I love Lately

It’s been one of those weeks where schoolwork drowned out most of my time. I haven’t had much time to reflect on how my life has been going lately, as I’ve been scrambling to put together papers, tests, and projects. My tension and around-the-clock work schedule has finally quelled a little bit so I’m taking this time to appreciate some of the newest things I’ve tried and want to share with others. They’re small. But it’s the impacts of these small things I repeatedly refer to, which ultimately keep me going during a stressful week. 

Google Chrome’s Momentum extension

I’ve honestly seen people with this extension for a while. It displays a beautiful landscape photo, the time, a mantra, and engages viewers by posing a “Focus of the day” question. I love the photos displayed, which change every day. They’re natural, brightening, and beautiful. They leave me eager to open up my browser every day, observe the photo and reflect on my focus of the day. Sometimes I’m surprised by the bright blues of an ocean, other times I’m stunned by the golden rays of a sunset. I read the quote displayed on the bottom of the screen as well as the daily mantra each morning I open Chrome. It’s a beautiful, serene image to see before I dive into a hole of work.

the sunshine in this one is gorgeous. Yesterday, I had a picture of a cove with ocean and rock. Quite stunning too!

Barry’s Bootcamp

I attended my first class today in Boston! Advertised on social media and recommended to me through word-of-mouth by multiple friends, I felt compelled to give this workout a try. The “Red room”, as they call it, drew me in immediately. Paired with loud, upbeat music, I trusted myself to make it through the workout. 50 minutes, that’s all it was. I found the treadmill work pretty similar to my usual workout, which comprises of running. The floor work, which involved some light weights, proved the challenge. But the people next to me high-fived me and demonstrated the moves when I couldn’t understand, making my learning experience quite seamless. I somehow finished the workout on a strong note. Sweat dripping down my forehead, I rinsed off in the shower, feeling my body decompress with the heat. My body felt amazing after the workout for several hours and my mind felt alert from all the interval training. Definitely, a place I will be revisiting. 

Baguette with Butter

A small but meaningful memento of my trip to Paris this summer. Of all the foods we ate in France, baguette has been the easiest to obtain and enjoy on a regular basis. Honestly, when I sit down to enjoy some baguette with butter, I think back to those mornings this past summer, sitting in the glass-walled lounge of the hotel enjoying my breakfast with my family. I think back to the sunlight from the morning pouring through those glass-walls. My mind remembers hearing the clinking of glass cups and the tinkling sounds of silverware emanating from the tables around me, filling the lounge with a delicate jingling note. The serenity of those mornings arises when I sit down and eat some of the foods I enjoyed during those delicate moments. They’re memory now, but they keep me grounded in the notion that I have a life outside of school.

 Formaggio's stocks this awesome tasting butter imported from France! Love this with my baguette.

What’s been on your mind lately?

To get started

"The secret of getting ahead is to get started" -Mark Twain

When I saw this quote, I was immediately reminded of advice from my freshman year math teacher. He believes taking the first right step remains the secret to success in solving difficult math problems. I've found the implications of this piece of advice to stretch far beyond the scope of math, applicable in writing and social problem-solving. This week has been difficult, primarily because the heft of assignments has augmented with the term coming to a close in a month. Let me live by this quote for this upcoming week as I tackle a test and two papers.

The doors to our inner and outer worlds

I lost my voice this weekend. It was the first time in my life that I’d completely lost my voice. Yes, I’ve experienced sore throats and croaky responses. Yet my voice this weekend presented so pallid a volume that virtually no sound came out of my mouth even when my throat contracted with the equivalent power used to produce a scream. When I woke up on Saturday morning, my throat felt different. It lacked lacked tension and felt more like an open tunnel. As I warmed into the morning, my voice returned ever so slightly…even to get me through Saturday. Yesterday (Sunday), I struggled to even whisper. Thankfully, I’m slowly recovering.

I didn’t realize how powerful my voice was until I lost it. I suppose one can make that argument for just about anything. However, it wasn’t until I lost my voice that I realized how often I use it. Having to cherry pick what to say and filter out things that weren’t importance proved a struggle. Dinner last night with my family was quiet. I couldn’t contribute much to the conversation, which helped me realize how much vacancy my voice fills in conversations with others. Perhaps in the presence of others, I also tend to occupy a large portion of conversation time, something I must strive to be more aware of. In losing my voice, I gained awareness of my talkativity.

Yesterday, when I attended a Mock Admissions activity, I had many ideas and questions that I wanted to share. When I raised my hand to speak, my voice croaked out a winded response, detracting from what I’d intended to convey. With my voice gone, replaced by whispers and short, tiresomely forced out responses, the things I said lost persuasiveness, confidence, and emotion. One’s voice can express so vast an array of emotions that only when one loses this power can they fully grasp its heft. 

I’ve known the importance of my voice in my past, but it wasn’t until this past weekend in my 16 years of life that I’d actually completely lost my voice. In the past, I’d protected my voice before I gave speeches or presentations. I would drink lots of water before going on stage, not eat anything salty, spicy, or too sweet before to protect my vocal chords, tricks my singer friend shared with me. I strive to do a more thorough job, as I almost cried in the shower last night thinking back to being unable to self-advocate for simple things such as what I wanted to eat for dinner. I realize how our voices are not just for self-advocacy though; they enable us to collaborate, advocate for others, and stand up when things aren’t right and our voices serve as links to the greater society.  When I lost my voice, I could no longer talk with a stressed friend in the dorm, I had to take a more convoluted path to answer someone’s question about where to find Italian restaurants in Boston, and phone calls were completely out of the question. 

A voice can mean different things for an individual. For some, it’s their life. Singers and artists are a great example. For others, they use it as a means to expedite what they do. Motivational speakers or teachers. It’s the direct platform that enables us to contribute to society while advocating for ourselves. Our voices represent the doors to both our inner and outer worlds.

Séduire and changing identities

My class has been reading a contemporary classic this term called Monsieur Ibrahim and the Flowers of Coran. It’s a short story, merely 68 pages long, about a motherless boy named Momo who grows up with a drunk, career-wise unsuccessful father. At the age of 11, Momo steals money from his father’s piggy bank to pay prostitutes. While most of my peers initially felt this inappropriate, we delved into a conversation in class about the lack of a maternal figure in Momo’s life that fuels his desire for affection. This sparked the topic of our french essays: identities. How do our identities manifest? What fuels/pushes certain characteristics, while diminishing others?

In writing this essay, I was reminded of a post that I’d written over two years ago about personalities. I was reminded of the two sides of me: the side perceptible to everyone and the one that manifests internally or with a select group of people. I reread what I wrote in that post from two years ago. Next, I thought about who I am today, my identity, and how people perceive me. It’s very different. It’s not just Self 1 that has evolved; who I am on the inside, Self 2, no longer aligns with what I’d written two years ago. Here’s to an update on my identity.

Externally, I project reservation. I abandoned my outspokenness in exchange for a more demure persona. It’s inaccurate to say that I’ve lost my ability to speak my mind because I haven’t. I simply choose not to overtly disagree unless I feel an inexorable inability to suppress my opinions. As I wrote a few weeks ago, I’ve found power in agreeability, which I’ve decided to capitalize upon unless something tests my fundamental morale. Secondly, I never liked being known as a know-it-all, a name people sometimes doted me because I achieved reasonably high marks in my classes. High school, however, inherently changed my ability to know everything because there is geniunely always someone who is very familiar with every topic out there. While I may understand a bit about xyz, someone else in the room is bound to understand pqr better than me. I no longer speaker upon things I’m unfamiliar with. I like to avoid pretending to know something I don’t. Perhaps I’ve learned the hard way of pretending to understand something, only to be completely outsmarted by another person in the room who understands the nuances of the issue and 40% more knowledge to base their claims upon. When I get into these conversations, I simply say, “I’m not very familiar with this topic, but from what I know…”. 

Internally, I’ve lost some of the boisterousness and loudness I had years before. It’s been replaced with something I value more, sarcasism and humor. Time has become the most precious thing in high school and as a result, I’ve budgetted my time in ways that have minimized opportunites to be loud, party, or listen to music. Perhaps I’ve only temporarily lost my energy and maybe it will return again at another point in my life. 

I firmly believe that identities inevitably evolve overtime. Perhaps this explains why the line distinguishing who I am on the outside versus the inside is no longer as vivid. In french, the word séduire means to appeal to. My teacher asked the class quelle identité vous séduit? Which identity appeals to you? As of now, I don’t know. Will we ever know though, for if we could predict how our identities would eventually change, I can’t imagine what notion would justify the process of change. I believe the constant feeding of new possibilities in our identities, driven by media, TV characters, etc, fuel that change. 

In enjoying what we do

Some food for thought from my absentminded thinking over the weekend :) 

There’s an unequivocal power that arises when one enjoys what they do. It’s this surge of energy that ripples through the system, like a lightbulb turned on, when one enjoys what they're doing. 

It’s a no brainer that we do things better when we enjoy them. I’ve managed to find ways to enjoy things I usually dislike by focusing on small details that draw me to other activities. When I studied physics, I focused on that small victory of getting a question right, reminiscent of that small victory when I hit a deep corner shot on the tennis court. When I get a cramp during my run and when nothing but stopping feels right, I try to remember how amazing it always feel after. I concentrate on that feeling of accomplishment at the end, followed by the notion that I overcame another (mini) obstacle. When I have boring notes to take, I try to make them colorful, add little jokes, or tell a narrative to help me remember. It honestly makes note taking miles more enjoyable and effective. 

It’s these small adjustments in my mental game which I’ve discovered have helped me enjoy things I may otherwise dislike. I’m almost artificially targeting pleasure. Is that wrong? Is it narrow minded to only do things I like? Perhaps that’s a yes. But whether it’s wrong to single out aspects for enjoyment because I struggle to do things I dislike well...I’m not sure. Perhaps this is in itself being open minded. Maybe if I succeed in finding ways to make the unenjoyed enjoyable, the scope of areas in which I can excel will grow exponentially. 

My newest habit

“Chains of habits are too light to be felt until they are too heavy to be broken” -Warren Buffett

Habits. A noun. Repetitive actions. 

Habits sort of have this weird connotation of bringing about harm when people throw the word around carelessly. Nevertheless, they also having the power to induce positive change in one’s life. My friend once wisely said that we pick up new habits every new year of school as we adjust to our schedules, meet new people, and adapt to new teachers. That, and seeing Buffett’s quote, triggered memories of some habits I’ve had in the past. 

One year in middle school, I picked up the habit of playing music in the background whenever I studied. I thought it would help me study more effectively as some studies have shown. Seeing many of my friends throw in their earplugs during study hours only ascertained this notion. Later, I found it took longer to get work done so I dropped that habit. Last year, I unintentionally picked up the habit of showering at midnight. I showered when I had completed all my work, and therefore midnight deemed itself the perfect time. I have since stopped this habit and our new schedules seem to support earlier shower times. In middle school, I also developed the habit of taking class notes in color. These extra second spent changing pen colors made my notes so aesthetically pleasing that it distracted me from processing the information to focusing on the artistic feel of my page at the end of class. Circumstances, schedules, and new understandings drive new habits. 

I’ve picked up a new habit this year. Perhaps “habit” is not quite the best description as it’s more a matter of meeting my athletics requirements. This term, I’ve been participating in AM Basics, which is a morning running program. My school considers AM Basics a “life sport” because there is no interscholastic competition. Life sports also meet for just 30 minutes every day, versus the usually 90 minutes of interscholastic sports. 

Our group of 10 begins running at 7 AM, forcing me to get up early in the morning. I’ve always been a morning person…I study better in the morning, I’m happier in the morning, and I sort through my daily to-dos in the morning. Morning Basics first and foremost saves a lot of time in the afternoon, a time when I prefer doing homework or even napping.  AM Basics may be my next best habit because it enables me to get breakfast at Commons. The school created this new schedule with a late start, 8:30, every morning to encourage students to get breakfast. Nevertheless, I’ve found that on Wednesday, when there is no AM Basics, I still do not eat. Upon observing my own patterns for getting food in the morning, I’ve discovered that time for breakfast is not created by a late start but by an intentional decision to make time for it. AM Basics helps me make that decision since Commons opens when the sport ends. Finally, getting through a 30 minute run early in the morning is one of the most refreshing feelings I know. I’ve found that the hardest part of the whole process is waking up and getting out of bed. Walking out the door after just rolling out of bed occasionally involves being slapped in the face by the chilliness of the morning. What motivates me most is the feeling of accomplishment afterwards. The energy and adrenaline I develop from my run push me through the academic day more smoothly. 

AM Basics. My (soon-to-be) newest habit of the year. There’s an unparalleled feeling of being the only one awake on campus at the dawn of morning, matched by a crisp, shocking morning breeze that has drawn me into the sport. While I can’t officially call morning runs a “habit” quite yet, I’m honestly considering going on runs in the mornings on the weekends too. Tootles to more AM runs :)

How you made them feel

http://www.ox.ac.uk/news/2019-01-08-century-and-half-reconstructed-ocean-warming-offers-clues-future-0

"I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel." -Maya Angelou

Thank you, Abigail, for sharing this with me.

Start Somewhere

I stared at the pile of physics papers on my desk that I hadn’t touched for three weeks. Equations, textbooks, my notecards, all inundating my little desk beyond sight. Three weeks ago, I thought I would be done with these papers and materials but an upcoming test last week called for review. When my parents brought me all 5 of my giant test prep books, I could remember reading through all of them but I couldn’t quite recall the details and the chapters I had struggled most with. Sitting at my textbook flooded desk last week, I was startled by all the material I had covered and anxious about having to review it all. 

“Where do I begin?” I asked my parents. 

Having taken a three-week break from all my notes and textbooks, the material and even the notion of having to study it again felt foreign. This also made me realize the difficulty of getting back into the groove of something, whether that be a sport, studying, playing an instrument, or even socializing. Getting back into the groove of something is so difficult that at times, it feels easier to avoid restarting. 

I’ve been reviewing physics for one week now. I try to get in a period of studying in the morning or in the evening when I’m done with work. The weekend has also proven to be really effective scheduling time. I remember this nuanced feeling of overwhelm and denial. A part of me wanted to avoid studying altogether and another wanted to start but didn’t know where. The feeling of foreign material dissipated after about a day or two of studying. 

I think the most important thing I’ve learned through this experience of revisiting things is to start somewhere and to take the first right step. I didn't exactly know where to start, so I reviewed my flashcards with equations. This ultimately lead me to recall topics I struggled with. In retrospect, I realize I spent quite a bit of time trying to find a way to review without actually reviewing. I tried to find a crack in the wall that I could squeeze through to get back into the swing. I realize now that there are no shortcuts. The only thing one can do is to start somewhere and take the first right step in that direction. The rest flows more smoothly afterward. Areas of struggle began to emerge in my memory and I could focus on those areas. 

Nike’s most famous slogan, “Just do it” comes into fruition. What they’re advocating is to dive in rather than muse around the perimeters of the problem in all things life. The feelings of overwhelmth is one that I can't forget and I will remember this experience for the future when I feel this way: start somewhere and take the first right step. 

The Nouveau Ambiance

Campus exudes a nouveau ambiance when I return from summer vacation. The crispy summer to fall transition weather provokes a sense of freshness and rejuvenation. Perhaps it’s the long break from school or perhaps it’s the confidence we each start off with during the school year thinking this is the year, but something about returning to campus always excites me. 

This year I am an Upper (junior in most high schools). For the first time since my time at Andover, my age falls in the older half. I’ve met some 13-year-old freshman and having three extra years on me, that feels like quite a long time ago. Walking around campus feels different. I feel almost…larger. The assertiveness and confidence of older students pervade through even the most trivial of our actions, such as walking through Commons surveying dinner, hustling through the library to find a place to study, or conversing with faculty on the pathways. While the strength of one’s confidence contributes to the appearance of one’s physical size, I’ve noticed the average Upper is bigger than the average freshman. Of course, two to three years play a huge difference in a teenager’s development. 

As the saying goes, with age comes responsibility. I feel the heavier weight of not only my performance in classes but the strength of my influence on younger students in the ways I behave and talk. I remember staring at the older students in awe my freshman year. I admired their braceless, perfect smiles. I admired their comfortability walking around campus independently. I admired the way they behaved in classes, asking questions until they understood everything perfectly. Perhaps this feeling is quite universal as one assesses campus social norms. 

Walking into commons yesterday, I felt eyes on me. Maybe it’s because I was dressed head to toe in running gear, but something felt different. The eyes felt similar to the way I regarded older students during my first week at Andover. Curiosity? Intimidation? Quite difficult to pinpoint. Being on the other side of those subtle almost subconscious stares feels different and quite honestly, the responsibility of being an older student on campus scares me. 

Butterflies fly in my stomach as I look towards this year from this side of the shore. I indubitably expect ups, downs, and stress. On the shore, it feels pretty safe. I realize though that as soon as I step into the water, I may begin to feel turbulence. So here we go anyway…onto Upper year.  

Summer 2019

It’s been one heck of a summer and it’s definitely been my busiest. 

I’ve been away for the past week in Beijing. My plane landed yesterday afternoon and I just got to school and unpacked this morning. Now that I’ve settled down a little bit, I’ve found some downtime from a busy back-to-back summer schedule. I think the most important thing I’ve learned this summer is how almost everything is a decision. It continues to amaze me how much control we have over how we act, how we perform, and how we produce. Putting in the time and effort while regulating patience goes a long way, particularly in studying. 

While I’ve certainly always had something to do this summer, whether it be studying, planning, or traveling, I lost time to be with myself. I haven’t observed, reflected, and read as much as I would have liked. It still stuns me to think that there will never be another Summer 2019 and that whatever I’ve done will stay forever under the title of Summer 2019. The years seem to fly by without a trace and the times between them are beginning to blur. This morning, my dad and I walked to the car rental shop to pick up a truck for move-in day. For a second I thought I had been in that office quite recently since the arrangement of the chairs and the employees were familiar. Yet when I paused, I remembered that the last time I had been in that office was a year ago. Sitting in the same seat I sat in while waiting made a year old memory feel not so distant and served as a reminder for how quickly time passes even when it’s not on my conscience. 

This summer in 10 words:

London

Paris

Positivity

LaunchX

Studying

Starbucks

Treadmills

Family

Stress

Beijing

While this summer has been particularly busy, it has definitely been a summer I would do over again. The constant agenda and list of to-dos kept me occupied and productive. I’m sitting alone in my room right now and I’m ready to jump into junior year. 

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Some photos from Beijing ;)

A Post of Thanks

Last Tuesday I got my wisdom teeth removed. The procedure is not news: 85% of people get them removed during a lifetime. I even have some older friends at school who had already gotten them removed during the school year. Nevertheless, the popularity of the procedure still failed to abate my fear of surgeries. 

I don’t like needles. Furthermore, I had never been put to sleep by anesthesia before. For a week before the surgery, I kept wondering what would happen the anesthesia didn’t work on me. I could almost imagine myself sitting on the dental chair 30 minutes after the injection still happily chatting with the doctors, their heads shaking, wondering why I wasn’t falling asleep. Gracefully, this didn’t happen. I think I was out in about 15 seconds. 

While the surgery itself passed as if it never happened, recovery has been more painful and real. I’ve been taking penicillin 4 times a day, every six hours since my surgery. This requires a dosage early in the morning. My mom has been guiding me every step of the way through my recovery. I’m thankful for my her for waking up each morning at 6 AM to bring those 2 mLs of bitter red liquid and a chilled glass of water to bed so that I can sleep in.  I am thankful for my mom for cutting the watermelon into smaller chunks so that I could consume it more easily. I’m thankful for my mom for talking with me as I sat in the bathroom with a hot towel on my bruised jaw. Thank you, Mom, for making my recovery that much more smooth.  

The Nature of Agreeability

Most of us have been taught from a young age to stand up for what is right and to speak for ourselves. We practice self-advocacy, expressing our opinions, and disagreeing when things don’t go right. This is good in all, I’ve discovered lately, until we try to start having conversations. 

There is a 40-page book that explains how to develop better people skills. Written by Les Giblin, a former member of the military, one of the first techniques Skill with People suggests is to adopt an agreeable nature. When I first read that, it made total sense to me. After all, we like when people agree with what we say. But then I thought about it for a minute and suddenly things weren’t so clear. What if someone says something racially charged? What if they spill out the wrong facts? What if they keep repeating something that is factually incorrect? I struggled to find instances where disagreeing was appropriate. 

Some things hinder agreement. I’ve noticed that passion often gets in the way of being agreeable at least for myself. Sometimes it feels as if I’ve simply done too much research on X to comfortably allow another person to drop the wrong facts. 

I’ve been observing my friends, particularly the ones who I get along with the most. There’s one friend of mine whom I met this summer and being agreeable is his strength in social interactions. He’ll never say “you’re wrong” and he’ll rarely correct you. I’m sure we’ve all spoken wrong facts but he’ll never cherry-pick or point out the small stats we mess up, focusing instead on the bigger picture of the conversation. Every criticism and suggestion is given lightly, inviting the recipient to judge whether to accept, decline, or just keep moving on in the conversation. His suggestions stick for receptive people and slips for those who are more interested in telling their story out. But his agreeability is subtle. You wouldn’t even notice him being agreeable unless you analyzed his word choice. 

Other times, when I’m walking in the city with friends, it’s difficult for all of us to agree on where to dine. 

Person 1: “I think eating here would be great!”. 

Person 2: “Yeah I think so too. Maybe we should keep walking around to see if there’s anywhere else”.

Even a conversation simple as that could indicate that a Person 2 didn’t want to eat at the restaurant. Instead, they avoided offending Person 1 by suggesting another plan. The people around me are some of the best role models I know. They’re eloquent in disagreement and they’re sensitive not to offend. They’ll avoid saying flat out, I disagree, sounding dubious about a suggestion instead. 

When I thought about Les Giblin’s point about being agreeable, I can see how wise that piece of advice is. My confusion perhaps lay when/where it is appropriate to disagree. We’re taught to stand up for ourselves against mistreatment and cruelty. We should disagree–in fact, fight–for morally disgraced actions. Disagreements against large scale cruelty drive society forward and change our morale for the better. Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, and the civilians during the Russian Revolution righteously expressed their disagreement with the way things were in society. And that makes sense. 

I’ve learned that petty disagreements are what tear relationships apart the most. After all, who likes to be corrected or have an argument about which shelf Whole Foods stocks the chocolate bars? I suppose being agreeable is being less picky about others. It’s about holding oneself to high standards without imposing excessive control over others. Agreeability is almost like skimming over the details so that conversations move forward, directing focus towards the bigger picture of the conversation. 

“As long as you live, never forget that any fool can disagree with people. It takes a wise person, a shrewd person, a big person, to agree – particularly when the other person is wrong”.

Friendship is an ongoing decision

We had been best friends until middle school took us separate ways. Z and I hung out frequently, we told each other just about everything, and we supported each other as we grew. My elementary school best friend and I have stayed fairly close since we parted ways in middle school. We text each other and stay up to date with each other through social media.

Z and I meet up once or twice every year during the summer/holiday seasons when I’m back from school.  I met up with Z yesterday afternoon, an event that sparked this post. Even though we no longer attend the same school (and hadn’t been since 4th grade), live in different towns, and lead separate lives, our physical distance has not affected our friendship as it does for many. 

Very few of my friends are long distance. Perhaps a part of me has found it difficult to maintain close relationships when I can’t interact regularly in person. Certain events bring me together with another person: school, camps, athletics, etc. But I’ve discovered how a lot of these friendships wither with time. Getting back together with Z yesterday afternoon reminded me of the endless possibilities even in a long-distance relationship. I’m in close relationships with a couple of other friends whom I still see once or twice a year. They, along with Z, have shown me something important about friendships: it’s an ongoing decision. 

To be friends, to have a relationship, even to love, are ongoing decisions that one makes when a tree falls in the middle of a road. It’s after a lighting storm and the tree is split from its stump. The rainwater makes the dirt on the pathway muddy. It’s difficult to trudge through, but at the end of a storm, two people stand before the fallen tree. There are ways around this tree and the mud. There are also ways to passively wait. Those with whom I climb over the tree remain close friends; distance, differing interests, and time have little effect on the spirit of the past. I am lucky to have a couple of close friends whom I’ve been able to keep through our once-a-year get-togethers, texts, and social media.

Unfortunately, we don’t always manage to find the strength to climb over that tree. When we fail to do so, we can only passively wait for fate to bring us back together. This is the biggest reason why I’ve lost connection with some of my friends. Whether it’s the little strength that we began the climb with or the little faith we have in successfully climbing over the tree, I don’t believe there is any inherent catalyst that drives friends apart. Neither distance nor time is powerful enough to break apart a friendship if both parties proactively make the ongoing decision to reach out when they haven’t connected in a while or spend a few hours together once a year. Friendships require time but they also require proactivity and the desire to stay together. 

I suppose ongoing decisions and proactivity extend well beyond merely friendships. They are the core of life. Merely finding the impetus to wake up in the morning after a hard night only to go back to school, work, etc. is an ongoing decision. Making the ongoing decision to problem solve through difficulties and work for the betterment of ourselves helps us make the ongoing decision to stay alive. Take this as a grain of salt as I’m a high schooler and I still have much to experience in life. What I do know is that the friends whom I’ve kept connecting with after our lives took separate turns have jumped over the fallen tree with me. 

The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides

I bought this book earlier this year in preparation for an assignment in English class. I never got around to reading it until my flight to London. The Silent Patient by Alex Michaelides packs in mystery, crime, and suspense, perfect for the plane. It successfully highlights the importance of confronting the mistakes of the past and he creatively weaves in niche Greek mythology.

_____

Alicia Berenson, a renown modern artist, is found one night in her apartment having shot her husband five times in the head with a gun. After Gabriel Berenson dies, officials send Alicia to the Grove, an institution on the outskirts of London where she refuses to speak. In fact, she went silent since the day her husband died. 

Theo Faber is a psychotherapist who hears of Alicia Berenson’s interesting case. He joins the Grove, hoping to meet and ultimately help Alicia speak again. He sets up therapy sessions and works relentlessly to help Alicia. He travels to her exhibitions, speaks with people who know her, and reads about her works of art. The jury is convinced Alicia murdered her husband, but Theo is not. He finds patterns and connections from literature and Alicia’s life to her artwork, which he supposes represents her feelings and emotions. 

Theo returns home one day to find sexual emails his wife had sent to another man. Theo’s life at home begins to fall apart. Determined not to leave his disloyal wife, Theo finds his therapy sessions with Alicia to be therapeutic for himself too. As Theo battles Alicia’s desires to heal, he finds himself buried in a mess. 

_____

The Silent Patient began with a slow start. As with most mysteries, all the characters and events seem quite random until the end nears. The plot quickens as you go along and the chapters remain short and fast-paced. I definitely consider this a successful on the mystery aspect. The endings of many mystery novels appear random in light of what happened in the plot, often tying to a small detail mentioned once. The Silent Patient addresses details, plot, and characters mentioned throughout the entire book; the ending truly “clicks”. 

London + Paris

I haven’t been active on here for a little while; I’ve been traveling for the past week and a half or so. Last night, I landed in Logan after visiting London and Paris. 

For the most part, I want to say European countries differ greatly. Each of the major cities I’ve visited in the past two years outfits unique architecture, cuisine, and culture. Lisbon architecture consisted of walls plastered with tile, each unique from the last. Lisbonions regularly indulged in two popular foods: Natas and different flavored pot pies. Greece prided itself in its white plaster architecture and colorful roofs. Although located on the Mediterranian, the Greeks did not consume quite as much seafood as I expected, focusing instead on lamb and chicken. 

Of the four European countries I’ve had the opportunity to visit, I believe the lifestyle and culture in England are most similar to that of the States. Shops remain open throughout the entire day (yes, shops close midway through the day in Greece and reopen at night) and dinner time felt similar to that of Americans (6:30ish-8:00). I loved London’s parks and tourism. We lived across the street from two major parks. I felt refreshed after walking through them to access various parts of the city felt refreshing. Trees line the sidewalks so the sun didn’t beat directly on pedestrians and the road was a mix of sand and concrete, producing various textural sounds when we walked. 

In London, we visited some properties belonging to the royal family. My favorite was Windsor Castle by far. The interior of the castle blew me away. Rooms decorated from floor to ceiling in gold, red velvet furniture lining the edges of the rooms, and 500-year-old mirrors still hanging where someone originally hung them. 

I also enjoyed walking along Thames River. Although a murky brownish yellow color, Thames was the vein of London. The London Eye and modern tourism stood on one side. Connected by the Tower Bridge, Parliament, old cathedrals, the shopping district, and the royal family residences occupied the other. After spending three days in London, I feel pretty confident about navigation. The city’s layout is fairly simple and the neighborhoods often had a distinct purpose (some filled with cafes, others for shopping, governmental for others, etc.). My family took the Eurostar to Paris afterward. 

Paris is by far my favorite city. I’ve never been to a city with the same pizazz. From an honest standpoint, just about everything in Paris is appealing to a tourist. From being the easiest country in the EU to buy tax refundable good to exhibiting the grandest squares at a frequency I’ve never seen, Paris buzzes with an excitement that leaves visitors curious about what’s around the corner. The Tour Eiffel was grand. There’s a huge–probably 1 square mile–space dedicated just for viewing. Different altitudes make for different views. At the uppermost level, tourists stand by the National Academy of Dance. This was the perfect place to take pictures of the full tower. Directly below, grass covered a large rectangular span of land, allowing the thousands of daily visitors to relax and sit directly in front of the tower. Fountains sprouted with water at timed intervals, making for the perfect photoshoot. 

Rotaries, bringing together 6-7 streets, fill the city (eg. Arc de Triomphe, Tour Eiffel, etc.). What intrigued me the most about these rotaries was not the traffic itself, but the building directly facing it. These houses were like isosceles triangles. The narrowest part of the buildings directly facing the rotary and became wider as one walked further away from the center. Cafes often occupied those triangular properties at the tip of the rotary. This sort of city layout, though less space-efficient than the grid-like organization of major US cities, gave Paris a unique taste and feel. 

I must be frank, I’m not the biggest fan of traditional French food. While I enjoy duck and various breads, I’m not the biggest fan of creamy foods. Unfortunately, my family did not get to eat at many restaurants during our trip. Our schedule becomes a little wack during vacations so we usually skipped lunch and ate at a cafe in the afternoon. Nevertheless, France has diverse food options. I found many of the cafes serve foods that were a blend of traditional french and more modern french foods. 

I’m home now, but I miss Paris. The late-night buzz of the city, eating dinner at 10 PM, the architecture of the city…all of it is truly stunning. It’s a city I would revisit again and again and again. 

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Some photos from my trip…

Buckingham Palace

Windsor town

Westminster Abbey side view

Westminster Abbey front view

London bus

View from the London Eye

Tower Bridge

London Panorama

Bond St. London 

Tour Eiffel behind the fountains

Tour Eiffel at night

Palace of Versailles 

Panorama of Versailles jardin

Versaille jardin b+w

Versailles jardin color

Apollo @Versaille

Versaille flowers

Sainte Chapelle stained glass

Tour Eiffel flashing at 10 PM!

View from Arc de Triomphe 

View of Champs Elysees

Musée Louvre

Another Arc by the Louvre @sunset

View from the Tour Eiffel @sunset