step 1

As I have slowly settled into a somewhat steady rhythm here on MIT’s campus, I still often get asked by upperclassmen and family back home about the acclimation process. The answer I usually give goes something like this, “The workload is decently manageable so far, but maybe that’s only because the semester is just kicking off. I’ve made a sizeable amount of friends, and I’m eating well, too.” And that’s the truth, which is somewhat anticlimactic, maybe? Everyone expects some big change to happen since the transition into college life is supposed to be one of the most drastic ones we’ll ever experience, right? Yet, everything seems so normal. Right now, I could take a look around my life, sigh, and nod, before telling myself: “Yes, this is exactly what it’s supposed to be.” There’s something in my brain, or maybe in my heart that tugs at me though, the idea that I should be FEELING something more, something… SOMETHING. But no, everything is peaceful and everything is calm, and it doesn’t feel like a storm is coming either. I guess, that’s just the way it’ll be. 

an apology and some more

Okay, so I have a confession to make.

This summer I heavily encouraged my friend Doodle to start her own blog.

And she's been doing so well. Yet, her last post was at the same time as my previous post, June 28th. Today is July 20. AND I FEEL SO BAD for only having just read it now. 

Like c'mon Jerry, you're the one who supported them with this endeavor, how could you not have checked their page for over three weeks???!?! 

I wonder how many times she has thought about telling me, but bit her tongue to wait until I noticed cuz that's the type of person she strikes me to be. Hmm, or maybe not? She has been pretty busy these days. Okay, I'm just making excuses. Damn, and I wonder how many people she has shared her blog with. WHAT IF I'M THE ONLY READER... 

Sorry Doodle. I'll try to atone in some way. 

Also, I have all these drafts of blogs that I was going to write about. All half-baked products, unfit for the world's eyes. But who am I to say what the world wants to see? 

I'm the writer so I have some power of what gets put out there, right? With so much content being churned out, constantly, it's both sublime and tragic that gems will get buried under mountains of media, but the mountains themselves are quite the phenom themselves, aren't they? 

They say there are two sides to any matter. Is that really true? 

It's a fun little game to always try to see the other side. 

Let's see... Your freshly made McFlurry just went splat on the ground. That sucks, doesn't it? Your hard-earned money just went to waste. But your health will thank you? Or the ecosystem that inhabits the ground where it splattered will thank you? You've nourished billions of tiny less-than-microscopic bacteria, and they'll thank you? Ehhhh do bacteria even eat McFlurries? I've probably gone too far but you get the point. 

By the time you reach some kind of positive conclusion, you've forgotten all about the initial pangs of pain and sadness, and emptiness in your hands and stomach. And then they strike again. Sigh.

See you tomorrow, world. 

 My journey on SPEED

Speed typing is one of my favorite pastimes. It consists of typing out the displayed prompt as fast as you can while making sure you minimize your mistakes because otherwise, you’ll have to go back to correct them before the program lets you continue. Typing speed is calculated through WPM or words per minute where each word is approximated to be around five or six characters. I feel like some strategies I’ve gained from practicing speed typing can also be applied to other aspects of life as well. 

I’ll give you some context first. I first started to get a sense of typing back when I was in elementary school. Back when I first started, I was still struggling to type without looking at the keys and was using only my two index fingers, my WPM was probably around 20. 

It took me about a year to be able to type most things without looking down at the keyboard. Just this change brought up my WPM to about 70 when I was in seventh grade which was my mom’s record too when I had her try it out. The idea is that you should always maximize your resources, be resourceful. Think about what you can use to help you instead of just going in blindly through trial and error. 

The next big breakthrough was in 9th grade, this is around the time when I first passed 100 WPM. The idea is that instead of typing each word letter by letter, you should type them in short bursts of several characters at once. Especially, since certain phrases are very common such as prefixes and suffixes like pre-, dis-, uni-, re-, -tion, -ity, -ment, -ness. By familiarizing yourself with common occurrences and practicing how to deal with them quickly and effectively is key to becoming better, not just in typing, but also in whatever you do.

Another idea is that typing fast doesn’t just come down to how fast your fingers move, but also your accuracy. I’ve noticed that when I try to focus exclusively on speed, my accuracy tends to falter which leads to, ironically, even slower finishing times. Keeping this in mind has helped me maintain composure when under time pressure which has helped me many times outside of typing as well. This is also what helped me break the wall of 110 WPM. 

A recent breakthrough that I’ve noticed came from reading ahead. When you’re typing and you’re about to finish a line, you already need to be reading ahead to the next three words so that your fingers don’t stop typing while your brain is trying to process the next words. This is much easier said than done since you need to train yourself to type the words a couple of hundred milliseconds after you read them instead of instantly which actually helps your speed. The lesson we can take away from this is to always think a couple steps ahead since your immediate reaction won’t be nearly as fast or good as a planned one. Applying this strategy is what boosted my speed even higher which makes my record a whopping 148 WPM.

Of course, the higher you get, the harder it’ll be to improve. Although my record is in the 140s, my typical average speed is probably around 105 WPM. However, the key is to never stop improving since consistent practice is always necessary and the improvements are there even if they’re not noticeable in the short term.

 Where I'm From

I am from blackboards and numbers,

From the white chalky dust and the squeaky expo markers.

I am from the university’s natural science libraries and the chemistry department’s offices,

From the single-player games I dominated and the entertainment I invented during solitude.

I am from 365 days of daily blog posts,

From the satisfying click-clacking sounds of my mechanical keyboard.

I am from round metal chopsticks and large tempered-glass lazy Susans,

From spicy Chinese reganmian and freshly made piping-hot tostones.

I am from my father’s collection of ties and my mom’s shoelace tying technique,

From my friends’ deepening voices and changing interests.

I am from the English I write at school,

the Spanish I shout during sports,

and the Mandarin I speak at home.

I am from the smell of sunshine of my grandma’s laundry,

From the scent of dirt and nature of my dad’s garden on the balcony.

I am from the magenta flowers that bloomed around my piano professor’s fence,

From the intricate classical pieces that I have been trained to dissect and analyze.

I am from a family of nomadic learners,

From questions that blossom out of seemingly ordinary phenomena.

I am from my experiences and all the people who contribute to them,

From a life that I would not exchange for the world. 

 Stoic

Free-verse Poem

Phlegmatic.

That’s a word which I believe suits me quite well.

It’s nice,

Sometimes.

In trouble, you seem calm. 

Through trials, you bring composure. 

It’s a wonderful quality, truly, one which I value.

Yet, sometimes people yearn for some emotion

They yearn for a reaction and spend time and effort to procure one

Let’s say, for instance,

A surprise party!

Festive occasion, is it not?

Friends and family organizing behind the scenes…

All for what?

Just for a snapshot of time in hopes to capture your confusion-turned-felicity.

The moment never arrives. 

Sorry.

 Today, my friend flew

"It was not the type of way I wanted to fly." That's what my friend Dino had to say about his experience. 

We were walking back to our traditional Japanese Airbnb and we stopped by our favorite konbini store, 7-Eleven. 

I finally got the chance to have my friends try the amazing frozen chocolate banana chunks that they have and they certainly did not disappoint. 

Oh also, we tried the make-your-own smoothie cups where you just get a cup of frozen fruit and put it into their blender and it serves it for you in your own cup. I bet that I could down the whole thing in 5 seconds. They didn't believe. So, I did it in 3.5 😁

On the way back, we saw a playground. Good urban planning, I'd say. Psi started sprinting toward the swing set, gaining momentum pretty fast, and swinging pretty high. 

I finally caught up to him and gave him a couple big pushes to the point where he was airborne for a solid 2 seconds before completing the pendulum motion downward. 

Then, Dino also got on a swing and started his slow ascent. I decided to help him. Dino is a bit smaller than Psi, so my pushes gave him more height than they did for Psi earlier. He was literally flying and falling with every back and forth. Yet, despite his expertise as an actual pilot (yes, he can actually man a plane by himself), he got scared of the height and let go at the bottom, his bottom hitting the sand first. 

I took one look at his bemused expression and began laughing hysterically. I couldn't stop for a solid minute or two before helping him get up. 

Dino made me pay for his meals for the next two days.

 The mystery of muscle memory

Muscle memory is an extremely interesting phenomenon for me. As a pianist, I’ve always been amazed at how my fingers would engage in a tango with each other as the harmonious melody was sewn from the percussion that I had previously learned. There is a saying that goes like "thousands of hours of practice for a few minutes of the spotlight". This is especially true for musicians. 

A piece or a song can only be executed perfectly after hundreds of repetitions, and this is after you originally learn just the notes of the composition. I have some friends who are excellent at sight-reading and can play a song as long as they have the score in front of them, but since this is just like reading a book, it’s hard to memorize every word in exact order even though you can read it out loud well the first time.

I can memorize my pieces after many repetitions, and after I learn them well, I no longer need the original score to play it. However, it’s not like I can remember exactly which is the next note after a certain one. The only thing I remember is the melody, and my muscle memory does the rest. My hands somehow just know exactly where to place themselves after every chord. For me, it’s as similar to an out-of-body experience as you can get. Watching my hands prance around in sync without my consciously thinking about the next things to play, it’s marvelous. 

Yet, sometimes your muscle memory fails you. I remember I was attempting to play a song that I’d learned at a friend’s house when my hands suddenly stumbled. They lost their place and couldn’t find their way back, like a chugging locomotive that had veered off course due to one missing piece of track.

The environment and your thoughts also affect you as well. Sometimes I get back home to my familiar piano that I’ve learned all my pieces on, and once again, my fingers spring back into action like their knowledge of the piece was suddenly thawed by the warmth of familiarity. There are also times when I’m trying really hard to remember what’s next, and it just doesn’t appear. However, when I’m not thinking about it at all, they somehow know the place they’re supposed to be at the time that’s just right.

This is a topic that most people probably don’t think about all the time since it happens mostly unconsciously, so if you just keep it in the back of your mind during your daily tasks, you might find magic happening right in front of your eyes.

They're not contacts...

All the way through elementary school I wore glasses. My signature look was with these orange square-framed glasses and my mom still occasionally pulls some out of the depths of her photo gallery to remind me of what I was like when I was little. However, this would’ve made it a bit more difficult for me to play sports since there’s always a fear of breaking them upon a hard impact with the ball. Thus, we were on the lookout for other ways to fix my vision. 

We explored some other options first but eventually, there came a day when my parents learned about the existence of orthokeratology, or ortho-k for short. Ortho-K involves the use of specialized and custom-fitted contact lenses that one wears to sleep which temporarily reshapes the cornea to improve vision. Essentially, myopic people have their eye shape distorted when compared to those with perfect vision and this deformation is what causes their impaired sight. These ortho-k lenses basically serve to squish/mold your eye back into the proper shape to restore vision. 

As you can probably imagine, this squishing will not cure myopia. It only temporarily relieves the condition but as soon as you stop wearing it, the effect will wear off as your eye springs back into its natural position. Typically, to have near-perfect vision for a day, I’d have to wear it for around 7–8 hours the night before in order for the effect to last that long. There comes a problem though, sometimes at night I simply fall asleep instantly and forget to wear them. In doing so, I’m essentially depriving myself of proper vision for the next day and every waking blurry moment is one where I’m reminded of the consequences of my actions (or better said, inaction) the night prior. 

People who know me from back in elementary school would sometimes randomly ask, “Hey, I see you’re not wearing glasses anymore… Did you switch to contacts?” And most of the time I’m too lazy to actually explain why they’re not contacts because then I’d have to get into the entire process behind it and even the science sometimes so it’s simply not worth it if I have something more urgent on my hands. In another case, if I forgot to wear it the previous night, I’d have to wander through my next day without being able to see what most teachers write on the board and the worst thing is when teachers call on you to read something and you just can’t see it so you have to ask them to zoom in, zoom in, zoom in a bit more… However, that doesn’t happen too often because I can get through most of my classes without ever needing to look at the board by asking my classmates beside me or by just attentively listening to the teacher. After all, they always repeat what’s already on the board. 

But if it comes to a scenario where I’m forced to admit I can’t see, somehow they always know to hit me with that “Can’t you see? You need to get some glasses.” Ouch. And once again to not have to take up class time to go through the entire process of orthokeratology, I’ve learned to simply smile and nod to hope it glides over. 

So, now you know why “They’re not contacts”. 

 Boxed Thinking

It seems that nowadays we often have our thoughts enclosed within a certain plane of consciousness. Perhaps consciousness isn’t the right word to use.

Novel ideas. I’ve always had a debate on whether or not a combination of two pre-existing ideas is considered something novel. Bread and cheese, grilled cheese. Novel? Perhaps. 

But deep inside us, we’re always striving for something big. Something TRULY novel. Not just some merger of two other ones. A real invention. And then we think. We think and think and think some more after we’re tired of thinking. But why does it seem like it’s harder to think of something when there are no limits to our ideas?

Right now, I am aboard a shinkansen bullet train going at over 170 mph towards Kyoto, our next destination. On the last train ride, I had this exact page open on my word document, yet I didn’t write anything. I just couldn’t think of anything more to write about regarding this idea. Ironic, isn’t it?

There’s been a friend I’ve been getting really fond of lately. Let’s call her Doodle. I gave Doodle my blog a few weeks back and as she’s been reading it and discussing it with me, she suddenly had the thought of starting one herself. I heavily encouraged it.

Currently, she has one post. Earlier today, Doodle told me that she was shy with her writing. I wonder why, because from chatting with her, I know she’s full of funny ideas and super entertaining to talk with. Even if we just copy pasted our text conversations into blog format, I think it would still be entertaining to read.

Doodle said that my writing was “so eloquent and smooth”, yet I find that quite surprising considering how I never do any edits to my writing. Everything you see is my raw first edition. It’s a stream of consciousness because I usually do each post in one sitting, just typing away. Our thoughts go all over the place all the time, so how could it possibly be smooth?

I just had a thought. What if we imagine ideas to be these rough, uneven rocks. The more they run around in our heads, the more they flop around in the washing machine that is our mind, the smoother and more refined they become. Smooth stones skip further than rough ones.

Mmm, not always. You see when it comes to skipping rocks, besides picking a good stone, there is also technique in the motion itself. There needs to be enough spin on the rock when you flick your wrist at the release point to glide across and the angle at which the stone enters the water should be roughly 20 degrees above the horizontal for optimal skipping distance.

What I’m trying to get at is that ideas are a starting point. Good ideas alone won’t get you very far though. Yet, executing a poor idea well can yield fruitless results as well. Only good ideas paired with proper execution can go the distance. 

 A Bittersweet Venture

The idea that a person learns better when there’s someone else nearby is one that I’ve been a firm believer in. I felt like this was the perfect time to write about this topic and my personal experience with it since a similar one was just brought up by our teacher today in class. 

Our teacher talked about the zone of proximal development (ZPD) which refers to the difference between the tasks a learner can complete without assistance and the ones they can reach with guidance from someone more skilled. Tasks within the ZPD are optimal for a learner to grow in that subject area since they are neither difficult enough to completely stump the learner nor too simple such that the learner is not getting any value after putting time in. 

If you were to think about it in terms of a figure, you’d have 3 concentric circles like the one attached below, and my goal when I’m tutoring my students is to explain and break down enough concepts that when we reach the problem sets, I’ve expanded their green circle enough so that it covers all the topics and skills that appear in the problems. 

It’s quite a bittersweet job. Being a tutor, your ultimate goal should be to guide a student to the point where they no longer need you. On one hand, I really like teaching students who pick up the materials fast, but those kinds of kids are also the ones who stick around for the least amount of time. Tutoring a student who learns things a bit slower is more of a long-term project, yet the gratification you get when those kids come up to you with a wide grin on their faces is just unmatched. 

To keep your place as a tutor, you must have things left to teach. This truth has acted as motivation for me to keep venturing into unfamiliar territories in front of my students, in order to double back and guide them later. You learn to remember each realization you have while learning the new material, and try to inch your students toward those understandings when you instruct them. Seeing the lightbulb inside your student’s mind suddenly flickering on when the gears lock into place is another one of the joys that just drives me to keep tutoring and helping as many as I can reach.

 Kites

January 26:

The other day, I drove my mom to work in our red Toyota. Usually, that’s where my journey would stop, but that morning, I finally got my driver’s license which I had postponed getting for almost two years. 

Embracing the newfound freedom, I drove around picking up some friends because Toro had suggested that we go to Pollo Tropical (quite underrated), and the rest of us had no better ideas anyway. 

I picked up Psi first. Psi is the most unbiased when it comes to rating driving experiences since he hasn’t gotten his license yet, just like me before that day. “Where to?”, I asked as he climbed into the passenger seat. “La casa de Dino” he said. One of the best features of the car I was driving was that it has this little screen as part of the car that lets you connect your phone to it through Apple CarPlay. Right there on the screen, you can see a pretty detailed map showing you the directions so you don’t have to worry about your friends feeding you the wrong information which leads you to a highway into the mountains with no exits for the next 10 miles. 

We called Dino a couple of times, no answer. When the call finally went through, all he had to say was, “I just woke up”. Toro was last because we had originally planned that he was going to get there himself, but plans change, and there we were, en route to his house. 

I must say, I was a very decent driver considering I didn’t make a single wrong turn even though I had never gone down those roads before. After picking up Toro, we finally made it to Pollo Tropical. A few remarks: quality food, good portions, affordable prices. Everything you could really ask for in a fast-food restaurant. 

We sat there for a while because Toro always takes 10 more minutes to eat than the rest of us. You’d think that Toro would have gotten faster at eating after being with us for so many years, but somehow he’s kept true to his 53 chews per every bite (trust me, I’ve counted). 

While deliberating our next move, I let them know that I needed to go to Viejo San Juan in two hours to pick up my mom from work, and that’s when Psi had the brilliant idea to just go there instead. 

When we arrived, I dropped them off at my mom’s store so they could go in and visit while I went to find parking in Puntilla. They had never seen inside a warehouse or a retail store, so they were quite amazed at the huge mountains of boxes of merchandise that we had organized. It felt nice to have some pairs of fresh eyes to remind you about the wonders you grew accustomed to. 

We walked to El Morro afterward. Dino bought a piragua. A blue one. I bought a kite, the cheapest plastic kind, “8 bucks for an experience”, I said. It took me a few minutes and a few failed attempts, but I finally discovered the trick to it and our kite flew high, higher than any other kites in sight. I let them take turns holding it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a young boy near tears and his kite lying in defeat in the tall blades of grass. His mother tried to comfort him, but she didn’t know how to help him either. I walked over and offered my assistance. He smiled when the kite caught wind and learned how to surf the gusts. I smiled too.

 In Preparation

“Good morning,” she said as she greeted me, her voice echoing in a mostly empty apartment. 

“Good morning, mama,” I replied, still only half awake.

“Today is a special day, it’s your grandpa’s remembrance day” she said softly. “We’ll go visit him at the beach today.”

“Okay. I still remember when we went years ago to scatter his ashes on the waves. Why did we do that?” I questioned.

“It’s what he always wanted. He loved the water; he loved the ocean. Back when I was still a little girl, he would take your aunt and I to the public pool, and he could literally sleep for hours whilst floating atop the water. We all thought it was like magic. His final ask was that we let him be one with the ocean after he was gone.”

“He is also close to grandma, right? And with my aunt in Germany too?”

“Yes, he asked us to divide up ashes into three separate parts and to scatter them close to where our family lives. He’s with us here in Puerto Rico. He’s also with grandma at the North Lake near our hometown in Wuhan, and with your aunt in a lake next to her house in Munich. Home. Home is where the family is. No matter the place, no matter the time, his booming joyous laughter could make any unfamiliar environment feel like home.”

“Do you still think about him every day?”

“It hurts to remember that he’s gone. But I would never want to trade away that pain and forget the beautiful memories he’s given me. I hope I’ve done a good enough job as a mother, and you’ll also think about me every day when I’m gone.”

“I… I will.”

“After I’m gone, I want you to also let me be in peace in the ocean. Next to baba.”

“That’s… not something we should be talking about now. You’ve still got… a lot of time left, mama…”

“You never know what can happen. Best to be always prepared for when the time comes. That’s why your dad and I always let you try everything, for you to learn as much as you can from us. We want you to be able to take care of yourself completely if you’re ever alone. We’re sorry we didn’t give you a brother or a sister to accompany you when we’re gone…”

“It’s okay mama. You’ve given me more than enough.”

Boredom Busters

Throughout history, boredom remains constant

What to do, where to go?

The question prevails, the search consistent

I play, I work, I do nothing

So much to do, yet somehow always seem to abort

So many choices, I’m stuck, paralyzed

I forage for novelty, hunting entertainment for sport

Chasing dopamine, an unconscious race

Games are invented, hypothetical scenarios are cast

My mind, the limit to my repertoire

But there are still restrictions, and my attention doesn’t last

Could red or blue be my solution

Yet in real life, the colors often cause me confusion

Tick tick tick, my ideas pass by

Pluck pluck pluck, I pick out a few

To study, to train, to cook or bake

No matter what I choose, one thing always holds true

I chase my smile, the commonality through all

After all, isn’t joy all that matters?

They say to follow your heart, but I disagree

Everything I try, it always ends in tatters. 

P.S. I'm going to be posting a bunch of things that I've written for my English class this past year in the next few posts. 

An idea and some gratitude

There’s a way of living as if treading upon eggshells

Not my style, but I’m also not a fan of ringing bells 

And so, slowly, an idea developed and unfurled: 

An appreciation for carefree moments in a cautious world 

In retrospect, perhaps there’s a method to refinement 

Take upper and lower bounds, then squeeze them for confinement 

It’s all about finding that sweet middle spot 

Speaking of which, I’d like to dedicate this poem to Rama, Beam, and Foxtrot 

Guys that have truly helped me out a lot 

I’ve admired you, been inspired by you, and you’ve been my watering pot 

Fox, we’ve never settled for store-bought DIY masters, 

we knew we’d always make it out 

Beam, the crazy laughter we found yet never sought 

The random walked-into-a-bar jokes, occurring all throughout 

Rama, we’ve finally done it all, 

taking risks just to thicken the plot 

The ending always seems to come too soon, 

but I guess, it's time to checkout.

This is a poem I wrote for my English class this past year (12).

 promise i'm not crazy

I’m back. There’s 9 hours and 18 minutes left on this flight.

I just finished watching Fight Club. It was a good movie. I’m not sure what it was trying to tell me, but at the same time, I think I understood.

Once you face the most intolerable pain you can possibly imagine, then you begin to look at the world differently. You’re no longer scared of anything because you’ve already faced and survived the worst. That mindset is scary. Scary, but I understand how it can be used to plow through life as if it were nothing but a dry sandcastle. People who take on this mindset become, untouchable. Untouchable and surely, uncontrollable. Uncontrollable, not even by themselves. Unless? Unless we find a way to harness it?

I think that’s what it was trying to say. It showed us an example of someone trying to harness it and everything falling in shambles as a result. Though, it might be fun? To absolutely lose all restraints and live carefree, not bound by laws or strictures or people upholding those laws or strictures. To be. Eventually, I think we’d come to our senses and realize it wasn’t actually worth it. Or maybe that’s just me. Maybe it’s just not my life. Maybe I’m just the type of person who’s meant to theorize such concepts but never enact them. Maybe I’m only meant to read or hear of others doing the craziest things, the freest things? Are crazy things really freeing? Or is it just us being tied down to what we think is freedom. Does freedom have to mean breaking manacles? I don’t know. One thing I do know is that, it’s freeing to admit you don’t know. It’s freeing to not have an answer for everything. Perhaps not everything needs an answer. Perhaps it’s enough to just coexist without searching for an underlying reason.

I can’t come to that conclusion. Not yet, at least. Will I post this or will my readers think I’ve gone mad? HAHAHHAH yeah, I’m definitely posting this. 

extemporaneous poem on plane

 Good morning, it is currently 3:52 AM, June 11, 2024.

I am on board an airplane with my grandma headed from SJU to EWR Newark. It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog like this. The thing is, when we checked in earlier, I asked the lady at the booth seats that were spacious and close to the bathroom as per my grandma’s request, and surprisingly, here I am, in the row right behind the bathroom with extra leg space. Usually, it’s a challenge to write anything on airplanes because my laptop can’t fully open up due to the seat in front blocking, but I don’t have that problem here so I thought it’d be a waste not to write anything. I was GOING to watch this anime called Freiren that I had downloaded at home, though I used my special move, “Restraint!”, and now I’m typing away.

I wonder, what is it about writing that is so intriguing to me? It’s funny to me how most times I plop down in front of an empty document without a single thought in my mind and then as my fingers move, the thoughts also pop up in my mind in sequence, as if reading a book. You start with nothing, BUT YOU’VE STARTED, and so that’s something already, yea? That’s the right thought process, I hope.

That “I hope” is exactly why ideas are meant to be shared. Ideas can be sparked by a single person, but reinforced by many and it becomes an ideology, a plan of action, a lifestyle. This would make it easier for any individual to implement it directly into their own lives especially after seeing so many examples of success and using them as reference.

There was an idea I thought of lately. Competition. What distinguishes healthy from toxic competition?

I was on a plane coming back from ISEF 2024 when I had this conversation with my friend Lugo. That was a great conversation. You know an exchange is meaningful when you can still remember the logic and conclusions you came to together weeks down the line, maybe years down the line.

Now, to answer the aforementioned question, we believe it is the mindset that changes the nature of the competition. Healthy competition would be employing an “I want to be better than you” mindset rather than an “I want you to be worse than me” mindset.

On the surface, the end result is still the same. Yet, the nature is entirely different. What we want is to be motivated by our peers and to strive to become better together. It shouldn’t be a fight to pull each other down until we’re both down in the dumps with one eating trashcan pizza and looking down on the other gnawing on a smelly banana peel. That’s a weird analogy, but I think it kind of works, so I’m going to leave it.

What is worth to be put into words and what isn’t? It’d be incorrect to say that only “good” things should be put into words because we need to challenge the existing to ensure its verity. Plus, times are changing. What was true yesterday may not still be true today. I think that’s the biggest mental obstacle for our elderly nowadays. The fact that something that was their entire life is now completely useless in modern society. BAHHHH I’d be pretty mad too probably. I went off-topic for a second.

The idea is that it’s good to fail. To fail and fail but never bail, you’re blazing a trail. You don’t want to derail, just keep hammering the nails, conquering the ocean like a big blue whale. Leave the husk that was your former tail in the dust and set sail. Set sail, look beyond what you once believed to be jail, look beyond the gale storms in your path, and hail the fact that there is no “right” path. So, stop looking pale when you fail.

Willpower is such a magical thing. I wanted to write a poem and there it is. In all its glory.

They just announced 30 min until we land in Newark. From there, we’ve got a 6-hour layover before our flight to Japan. I’ll see you then. 

THE SPEECH

Sometimes I find it really fun to wonder what kind of person each one of you views me to be. It’s interesting to think about how each person will form a slightly different or maybe vastly different perception of you because, after all, they’ve only seen fragments of you at a time. 

Today I stand before you as the valedictorian of the SJS class of 2024, but many of you have probably never seen me absolutely exhausted and drenched in sweat after volleyball practice with our coach Pirito, and you’ve probably also never seen me hammering the black and white keys of my piano in frustration in search for some release, some freedom, some catharsis, or even, how I laugh gleefully after destroying random strangers on this obscure internet game that probably less than 10 people here have heard about. 

So, the point I’m trying to make is that we are an ever-changing jigsaw puzzle. People see only a couple of pieces of you at a time, and they try to form the entire picture of your being with the limited information they have. So then, as long as you keep focus on painting a beautiful picture on the canvas that is your life, then no matter how much others fixate on a smudge or corner of your canvas, you know yourself that what you have overall, is beautiful. Then that’s enough. 

Now, a different conversation has sparked. What can we use as motivation to paint our picture? I’m going to go even more basic here. 

I think there’s a pretty universal problem when it comes to all of us. And that’s the motivation we need to get out of bed in the morning. Sure, you can always opt for setting 20 alarms in 5-minute intervals, but that’s a pretty torturous way of going about it, and you are definitely not going to be in a good mood when you finally do get up. So then, how should we do it? 

I’m going to share with you my own method. 

During the pandemic in 9th grade, I developed a deep fear of death. Luckily for me, between online classes, there was a lot of time to think. Day and night and day and night, I would be just thinking about darkness and the void. 

Thankfully, my family was great at these types of conversations and were very open about talking, too. My mom would always say, I’m not scared of death. I’m only scared of what would happen to you and your dad without me to take care of you. My dad would say, everyone dies. Just do something worthwhile while you’re alive. 

I think they’re both right and that everyone can have their own take on the matter. Everyone SHOULD have their own take on the matter because it’s the one common truth for us all. 

After a bit, I came to my own conclusion. I imagined myself on my deathbed, probably in some hospital room who knows where, and I’m looking up, blinded by the bright white lights above me. If that was my last moment alive, what would be going through my mind at that moment? 

Big stuff, right? Family. Contribution. Integrity.

So then, most of the things I stress over daily are, vastly, insignificant when I put myself on that deathbed. Because I’m not going to be thinking about those things. I’ll be thinking about the things I’ve done, the things I’ll have left behind, a legacy if you will. My own mark on this one world that we all share. With life, there’s a realm of possibility. It is the most basic prerequisite for you to make anything happen. 

And so, when I wake up in the morning, all I have to say is, “I’m alive.” Then I roll out of bed and we’re off. 

What I’ve found to be a great thing about this world is that there is no overarching truth about what it means to be alive. There is no meaning to life, and I don’t mean this in the way that there is no point to life, but rather that there is no definition to it. That makes it nice. We get to decide our own meaning of being “alive”.

I think being alive has a lot to do with risk-taking. Imagine a TV show where every single day, the protagonist just does their own thing, taking the safe route, and so, they are living, biologically living at least, but who would actually want to sit through and watch a series like that? If you think back to your own favorite shows, I’m sure all of them have some type of conflict and risk involved, and the excitement unfolds throughout the process of resolving it. That’s the fun part, and the fun part only comes with that initial risk. It’s okay to be scared, and being scared is part of feeling alive, and we want to feel alive. 

They say to chase your dreams. I think that’s too broad of advice for comfort. Life isn’t only for chasing dreams because life isn’t a checklist. Life isn’t linear in the sense that it’s just goal after goal after goal, and then that’s the end. There’s a lot more depth between each stage, and stages can overlap and intertwine and be unpredictable. Being alive is adapting to it all, soaking in the process, thriving in the process, flourishing in the process. 

Thinking back to what my parents said, I know I need to become strong and capable enough so that my mom won’t be scared that I can’t take care of myself when she’s gone. My dad always taught me to do the hard things. Do hard things and challenge yourself, challenge yourself to better understand yourself. 

Thank you mom, thank you dad, for your company these last 18 years. Thank you for nurturing me into the person I am today, and thank you for giving me space to grow on my own. 谢谢你们为我做的一切。

Also, I want to acknowledge that my grandma is actually here with us today. She flew in all the way from China, a 40-hour trip with layovers, just to be present here today. She doesn’t know English, so let me thank her in Chinese. 

外婆，谢谢你一直不断的教我，谢谢你对我的信任，谢谢你大老远跑过来参加我的毕业典礼，我爱你。爸爸妈妈我也爱你们。

Thank you to all the teachers who have taught me and also to Saint John’s, an institution that I’ve learned to call MY SCHOOL. Thank you for the opportunities and for the memories. 

Lastly, I just want to thank all of my fellow graduates sitting here today. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if not for you all. I take great pride in being a part of this class. We’ve got some truly amazing people up here today, and the fact that it pains me to say goodbye serves as proof of my words. I wanted to let you know, even if we don’t call often, even if we’ve never called, if someday one of you did call, I promise I’d answer. 

There is no need to say farewell because I know you’ll fare well even if life isn’t fair or well, be ready to be unsteady and go out there my friends, go out there and make your own marks in this world. And stay alive. 

Thank you for the time. 

 light pollution

Haha, it's kind of funny how I'm writing my second consecutive post at around the same time as the first one (2:19 AM). 

Now, I promise it's not because my sleep schedule is messed up, but rather, I've got an excellent explanation for today. Mmm, so since I'm graduating real soon, my grandma came all the way from China to live with us for a few months leading up to the ceremony. She came around mid-February, and her visa only allows up to six months, so in the summer, I'm taking her back. 

Today, we decided to take her to visit the bioluminescent bay in La Parguera. Fun fact: There are only five bioluminescent bays worldwide, and Puerto Rico houses three of them. That's pretty awesome, isn't it? These are basically bodies of water inhabited by these microscopic organisms called dinoflagellates that have this glow-in-the-dark effect when agitated by movement in the water surrounding them. As you can imagine, you can't really see them with any other light source around, so you need to be in a secluded warm-water ecosystem with as much darkness as possible to see them shine the best. 

La Parguera is about 2.5 hours away from where we live, so we got out of the house at around 4 PM, but somehow, we were in traffic ON THE HIGHWAY for about 30 minutes going at snail pace because they were fixing the roads. An original three-lane highway turned to one lane at some point which was downright unfortunate. But then, after, everything smoothed out, and the views as we drove along were absolutely unmatched. The clouds, the mountains, the mist, everything just looked so sublime. OH AND the road itself was actually really smooth, unlike the bumpy pothole-abundant roads that we typically have over here. (I broke a PR btw, finally got to 110 on an open stretch heheh)

The bio bay itself was the same as usual. Nothing too exciting, but maybe that's just because I've been a few times already. You get on a boat and drive out into an area where you can't see any manmade lights and it's basically complete darkness except for the moon. The moon was very pretty tonight. The dinoflagellates don't emit a whole lot of light, and after all the hurricanes we've had over the past few years, there's less of them than ever, so you can also bet that it's dimmer than ever. 

The beautiful full moon was a trade-off for not being able to see the microorganisms at their brightest because, well because of light pollution. Same reason as to why we can barely see any stars in the city. Far too many city lights take away our ability to perceive the natural lights of the world. Only in darkness can we see the stars. This is something that I've been thinking about lately actually, not in the literal sense, but more metaphorically. 

When a lot of good things stack up, it'll be very bright, but it'll be hard to pick out any individual to call the best. Over time, they'll all start to feel the same, average, even. That's scary, isn't it? Will we lose track of good things because there are too many of them? Will we lose track of good friends because we make more? Will we forget meaningful moments because we constantly make new ones? Isn't it scary that we'll no longer be bright in an ocean full of stars? 

I can't answer all of those questions. However, I will say a few words on the last one. Probably many of my fellow graduates this year will have the same fear of no longer being standout cynosures when they get to their university in the fall. "I'll be a no-name college student, just one of many. I've lost all the progress I've built, nothing then matters now. I have to start anew and this time, I don't know if I can climb to where I once was because everyone is amazing." That's a thought process that's pretty easy to fall into. 

One thing worth noting is that even if there is light pollution, that doesn't diminish the fact that the stars are still there. The stars themselves don't fade, even if they are harder to notice. So don't feel discouraged if your work goes unnoticed for a while. As long as you keep your flame burning passionately, then one day, you'll be seen. 

I wanted to discuss the ISEF trip, but it looks like that will have to wait for another post. Thank you for reading, and bonne nuit.