The Beginning

Here we are, starting on yet another year and this time, everything matters. And guess what, I'm scared. I'm scared about looming grades, the formidable GPA, frightening APs, and the monster of them all: the SAT. Almost everyone in college or beyond tells me that this year makes you or breaks you. Naturally, as we all try to be optimists, we hope our lives rest on the previous.

What happened to those frivolous days when I need not worry about homework or tests or even class? What happened to the days when an hour or so was solely dedicated to naptime? My mind was constantly on a fun random puzzle, an excitingly useless game with friends, or simply asleep. I miss those days.

Sometimes, I wish I could turn back the clock, invert the hourglass a couple times like Hermione in Harry Potter, but if I did, I wouldn't change anything. Perhaps, prolonging that innocence and that youth could be the recipe of dreams, but we all have to grow up one day. And as we grow up, more is expected from us and hopefully, with each year comes great wisdom. And before long, we'll go to college, grow up to be unique individuals, succeed. I wonder where we'll all be in 5, 10 years.

Late at night, as I studied for an AP US History test the next day, consumed by every conceivable specter of stress, I promised myself that once in a while, even at the worst possible moment, I deserve a break.

I think it's time for all of us to take one long, deep breath cause junior year has just begun.

For the Love of Music

The flurry of sophomore year had placed piano last on my long list of activities: debate, basketball, school...Beethoven's voice no long filled my mind at midnight, but rather the voices of calculus and chemistry always lingered. There seemed no end to my study, my homework, my tests: only a ceaseless cycle of overwhelming stress.

Even my last days of summer dwindled down to SAT prep, where critical reading, writing, and mathematics were constant reminders of my anxiuos need to improve. One night, in one of rare moments to catch a breath, I sat down on that leather bench and proceeded to strum a few bars of Lucky by Jason Mraz, a personal favorite. I found myself piecing together the bits of popular music by Mraz, Avril Lavigne, Taylor Swift, and Colbie Callait. Closing my eyes, I could almost hear their individual voices, alighting on just the right notes of music, my fingers weaving through the rests and beats. So excited, I even flipped through my old books and renewed my childhood love for Chopin in the midst of nostalgia.

After an hour or so, I settled down to peruse a pre-lab for chemistry class and almost laughed as I found myself strumming my fingers on the surface of my desk.

Once in a Long While

It's been a year, a year of living, laughing, and loving. A year of wearying struggles but worthwhile memories. A year since I last saw any of my closest friends from Cosmos '08.

Last weekend, I had the lucky opportunity that many can't say they've savored themselves: to see one of my closest friends from science camp, summer '08. When I left behind my friends that weekend in the Davis summer heat, despite promises to see each other again, I knew bitterly that our individual schedules would rarely find perfect time for a cohesive reunion. But hey, nearly one year later, I found myself hugging and jogging down the crowded, smoggy streets of San Francisco with Jasmine Leyro.

Unfortunately, our friend Nate couldn't make it to our little meeting to catch up, but sitting, talking, sipping on a Jamba Mango-a-Go-Go seemed to wholly complete one of my last few summer days. As we sat there at a plastic table in a fast food restaurant, hearing the cashier take orders in the loud bustle of the open kitchen, I suddenly realized something. For the first time in over a year, I wasn't busy putting together a project, writing up a paper in the wee hours of the morning, or musing over a voluminous novel. I was sitting still, watching all the business happen around me. For the first time in a long while, I was the listener. Listening to the chit-chat of a mother and her 5-year old at the table next to us. Listening to the life stories of Jasmine as she smiled with a scintillating glow. Listening carefully to my own thoughts, something I didn't do too often. Not only did I get to see and to talk to my close, dear friend, but also, did I get to hear and to listen to myself.

So, thank you.

Just Another Day: My First Vignette

A light breeze whispered through the branches. A quiet stream trickled by, licking the rotund edges of a few scattered pebbles. It was a beautiful day. The silence of the early morning with the staccato of chirping here and there seemed to awaken some kind of peace within me, long lost in the hustle bustle of life. Sunlight glistened on the still lake water surface where sparse bubbles rose intermittently, the meager signs of the lively underwater world hidden from view. It was like I'd stepped into an artist's painting; Monet's, Picasso's, or DaVinci's greatest masterpiece. The tapestry was so perfect, almost as if I could brush my fingers through the floating clouds in the azure sky. The grass beneath my toes tickled to my mild amusement, the fresh scent enveloping in a gust of wind that whirled around me.

Who knew such subliminal beauty could exist in the smoke and smog of crowded Chicago?