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. 

________________________

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.