This week I held a document from 1976. What did you do?
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This week I held a document from 1976. What did you do?
This article was going to be many things, but what it was not going to be was this nostalgic throwback to my freshman-year-fresh-out-of-high-school-self. But a Snapchat memory, some hasty scrolling back to 2017 and some three hours later, here I was thinking about how much has changed and how much has stayed the same.
Let’s begin with some context: When I was 13 years old, all I wanted to be in life was a corporate lawyer. No, seriously — beyond just watching Suits, I read LSAT prep books and even joined Model United Nations (because there was no mock trial) to get some experience formulating arguments and public speaking. Then I turned 15 and was introduced to astrophysics; I’d always loved physics, but I really didn’t want to spend my life looking at hypothetical frictionless ramps, and at that point I didn’t even really think there was more to it.
It’s potluck season. Depending on your tolerance for your roommates’ drunk friends and slices of desiccated turkey breast, that may be a good or a bad thing. But like it or not, the next week or so holds the sure promise of a Friendsgiving Facebook invite rudely interrupting the Tasty video you’re watching in class.
My mother instilled a love of traveling in me at a very young age. She had me embark upon my first transoceanic journey while I was still in the womb. In January 1999, a mere month before I was born, I – without much of a say – accompanied her on a trip from the U.S. to India and back.
It was 2:16 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. I was hunched in front of my computer in a baggy T-shirt, no pants on, furiously pounding away at my keyboard. Line after line after line of angry, black text appeared as fast as my acrylic nails would allow me to type them. I thought about how I would burn Facebook to the ground if I had a chance to as I hammered out an angry, senior thesis-worthy response to yet another insecure, straight man who was complaining in a Subtle Asian Dating post about how women deserved to be nothing but sex dolls because no “female” wanted to date him. (And yes, if you’re wondering — those men really do exist.)
These days seem like a high-water mark for minority political representation. It seems especially so for Asian Americans, with prominent Asian American figures like Andrew Yang and Kamala Harris running for president and record numbers of Asians getting elected into office. But that’s all at the top — how much does that translate to my own experience as a politically active Asian American?
I am back at it again! Self-care. Just as important this time as last. These tips and tricks never grow old. It’s just up to you what you want to make work for you. And with that, here is the second half of the self-care alphabet for you:
This week we’re gonna take a deep dive into my childhood.
Everybody seems to love puppies and kittens and animals of all kinds — they’re cute, vulnerable, funny, companionate — yet so many people have misconceptions about how humans interact with animals.
I) I grew up with my great-grandmother and the taste of her mayujie, a crepe-like delicacy from Dachen Island. I remember long nights sitting beside her, my chubby hands against hers, as she guided me in folding my first roll. And so we sat, that Saturday in 2004, rolling hundreds of mayujie at the dining room table.
I feel as though I was happier in high school than I am now, and there are probably a number of reasons for that. One I’d like to discuss, though, is the fact that I’ve stopped giving credit to my lollipop moments.
Moving off campus is expensive. Like, ridiculously expensive. For the first time in your life you have to start worrying about rent, renter’s insurance, electricity, internet and water. This is, of course, along with the one-time payments like security deposits or application fees. But that is only the start. Unless you go for a more expensive, furnished apartment or take over a room from a graduating friend, you have to buy an apartment’s worth of furniture.
Like most people at Hopkins, I had a bit of a hell week about three weeks ago. Three big projects, two tests, all within the span of about four days — if you’re a Hopkins student, you probably know that drill.
I watched from the circular window as the fields of corn and the old courthouse shrunk to figurines. I left Valdosta. And I had been dreaming of this day since I was a kid. I always craved a life in a bustling city up north or out west, and it was finally my time. Baltimore needed to get ready for the country girl coming to town.
The transition between sophomore and junior year has been far more daunting than the previous year’s experience; moving off campus, realizing CVS isn’t at my doorstep when I run out of toothpaste, having to pack lunch because running home in the middle of the day would take a minimum of 30 minutes and always having a mini umbrella in my purse are just a few of the things I’ve had to adjust to. Below, I’ve outlined 10 things that, in the past year, have really helped me grow as a person:
It was over a year ago when I visited the city of Wuxi during my study-abroad program. I was with my roommate, a student at Donghua University, the university in Shanghai that hosted the program. And we were with three of my fellow study-abroad students plus their roommates, who were also local Donghua students.
Midway through the summer, three friends from Hopkins and I decided to book our trip to Munich as we were preparing for our imminent semesters in Europe. This long-awaited weekend finally arrived, and Saturday morning, we — like Miley Cyrus almost once said — hopped off the plane at MUC with fatigue and a dirndl (a traditional Bavarian and Austrian skirt) in hand. After spending an embarrassingly long amount of time trying to find my friends in between terminals, we finally reunited and made a quick stop at our hotel. Then, high off of the thrill of sneaking two extra people into the hotel rooms, we headed to Theresienwiese, the fairgrounds.
How would I describe anxiety? Like thoughts but on steroids, on overdrive. Each one hits you like a knife slicing through your brain. Like this blackness that you swim in. You want to come up for air but you can't. It’s like your chest is made of a thousand stones and a rib cage that seems to be rigidly attached to your heart. Like something is itching inside of you. But instead of itching, it’s like someone is ravaging your insides and you can't stop it.
After writing my first piece for The News-Letter about self care, I heard so much positive feedback about it that I was inspired to write on self care again. I had just come back from a large group meeting at A Place To Talk Large, and we had explored the different objects, people, memories and places that are the most important to us in our lives. It really made me reflect on the things that make my life so great. I do love my life, and I think this love is due to my many ways for taking care of myself. I believe that you are capable of loving your life when you take good care of yourself.