Healing

I've long discovered that the best way for me to heal is to help others heal. That, however horrible it sounds, the "best" thing which could happen to me when I'm crying, completely lost, and feeling hopeless, is for a friend to call me in tears.

My friends mean more to me than my life, because if it weren't for them, I might not have one. Because being able to help them in any way means more to me than almost anything else. Because their problems are more important than my own. Because helping them takes my mind off my own worries, so that when I come back to them, they seemed much more manageable. Because my friends will always, always come first.

So thank you for calling me when you're going through tough times. When you need someone to talk to. Thank you for trusting me with your worries and your frustrations. Thank you for letting me help.

The only promises I would ever break are ones to myself.

The only person I automatically don't trust is me.

Earbuds

In light of having misplaced mine.

***

Every day, he takes out the cheap earbuds and sees that the wires have tangled into a mess at the bottom of his backpack, and every day, he spends the next ten minutes carefully rewinding them into some semblance of order around his hand-me-down Walkman. 

Then he sinks back into the library couch, sighs, and feels the warmth of the afternoon sunshine dance across his skin. There is music playing in his head (around and around, forever there) and he does not notice when his eyes drift shut, and, in a quiet corner behind the bookshelves, he slumbers.

When he awakes, he does so slowly, because he doesn’t want to think about what comes next (he winces at the memory of countless nights spent locked away in a room with no windows, the cries of those around him – another girl came in today) and he works hard to remember that he takes what he can get.

He wishes, sometimes, that he could sleep on that library couch forever. (I would never get back up—and is it wrong to say that may be my one hope?) 

The music stops. In the back of his mind, he can hear the cries of the parentless children and he cannot ignore them any longer. 

So he picks up his Walkman and painstakingly wraps the earbud wires around it, all the while praying that someone would come and take him away. (where? anywhere, far enough to forget) But his plead remains unanswered, and he drops his talisman of peace inside the tattered pack, strides out the library doors, his steps weighed down with anguish. 

(Mama, mama, aren’t I so brave? Look at me—look—
—Mama?) 

By the time the sun peeks over the horizon, the earbuds have dropped to the depths of his bag, whirled and confused and never quite right. 

(Please don’t leave—!)

Getting Used to Things

"You should be getting used to orgo tests."
"I know it's sad, but stuff like this happens, so we just need to get used to it."
"You'll get used to it."

But no, no I don't. I don't get used to taking tests. I don't get used to giving speech, performing on a stage. I don't get used to the fact that horrible things happen in this world, and that the world moves on so quickly that those embroiled in the event are left behind.

I don't get used to things.

And while it sucks when it comes to taking a test, or when those nerves come before a performance, or to witnessing world disasters and not being able to move on like others do, I guess it can be a good thing as well. I don't get used to sunny days and gorgeous weather. I don't get used to being able to call friends when I need them. I don't get used to late-night phone calls, or waking up to texts in the morning, or long walks under the stars, or coasting down a hill on my bike. I don't get used to hugs, or shared secrets, or smiles. And maybe not getting used to them isn't the right phrase, but it means I usually don't take things for granted. Each one is still a miracle for me in a way. And I guess this is why I'm able to "set" my default mood to happy, and my day to pretty good. 

Maybe I don't get used to things, and maybe that's not a bad thing, because that means that in my life, the good things will always outweigh the bad.

Hakuna Matata

Sugar petals linger on the thought of childhood – 

Meeting Mickey Mouse at Disneyworld, old friends to dance and play 

Singing of time and priceless joys, fly back I wish I could. 

Blissful days on playground swings, seesaws of dented wood, 

Imaginary friends and wistful things and fingers stuck with clay 

Singing of time and priceless joys, fly back I wish I could. 

Fairy tales and princesses, Little Red Riding Hood, 

Toys R Us and gleaming crowns, whine to get my way, 

Singing of time and priceless joys, fly back I wish I could. 

Journeys to the beach and camping trips, never misunderstood 

Playing in snow and drinking cocoa, waiting up for Santa’s sleigh 

Singing of time and priceless joys, fly back I wish I could. 

Banging on piano keys, trek back to where I stood, 

Chasing butterflies with no life worries is where I want to stay 

Singing of time and priceless joys, fly back I wish I could. 

Planning tea parties and costume balls, living life as we should 

Piggyback rides and field trip fun, skies that were never gray 

Singing of time and priceless joys, fly back I wish I could.

Communiversity!

Morning was spent rushing from place to place and leaving events early haha. Got up a bit late for helping TASA set up, but went regardless. Lots of can-opening, chopping ai yu, and mixing in huge gallon jugs. Super delicious though! xD 

Got to orgo review late, left orgo review bit early. Went to Matt's arch sing, prepared more ai yu, and wandered around Communiversity for a bit. It was pretty fun, lots of food and random booths and happy people. =] Reminded me a lot of the Art and Wind Festival back home. Grabbed dinner, which was surprisingly good, then went back to do work.

Rest of the day was spent orgo and COS-ing. Funfunfun. Pretty stressful and I definitely felt (and still sort of feel) overwhelmed. I... can't even begin to express how unprepared I am. Ah well. Not sure I would change anything if I could. There are more important things in life, although I do need to get better at my balancing act (I never had a good sense of balance...) Back to studying for a bit, then bed. =]

Happy Birthday Matt!

One final birthday wish - probably the last one you'll get this year. ;P It's so weird to think that a year ago, we were prefrosh getting lost and feeling almost overwhelmed by Princeton. It's also weird to think that I've only known you for a year haha. You've been such an amazing friend and I'm so grateful to have you in my life. I love you, and I hope you had a wonderful day. =]

Class of 2016 Boat Cruise!

The boat cruise was absolutely amazing. The skies were clear and the weather was gorgeous, so we had a stunning view. It was just a great time hanging out with friends, with everyone looking super amazing, enjoying life and feeling blessed.

Fall 2013

CHM345 - Biochemistry

PHY103 - General Physics I

MAT202 - Linear Algebra with Applications

ECO310 - Microeconomic Theory: A Mathematical Approach

CLA219 - The Roman Empire, 31 BC to AD 337

Pretty excited for next semester! It was a bit of a bummer having to move my biochem precept (the one I had was Tuesday at 1:30 but closed by the time sophomore course selection opened), but it's a pretty decent schedule. No more 8:30 class! It's going to be difficult, as always, but I'm getting out of intro courses into being able to actually pick what I take! (Okay, that's an overstatement, I definitely didn't take some intro courses this year, and physics/math for next year are still pretty basic.) In any case, hopefully it'll go well! There are so many great courses here, it's always hard to choose. =]

"They give you a silver spoon; keep it shining."

Chemiluminescence

This was like the best lab day ever. Got out in time for late meal, no lab report (just discussion questions), plus the lab itself was the *best.* 

I did the blue one first, knowing it would probably be blue, not expecting it to glow too much. And when I added the reagents together, it was pretty much what I was expecting - a dim blue tint, nothing too exciting. Then Professor Gingrich comes over, asks if I'm disappointed, and I tell him I am a little. He beckons Lisa, my lab TA, over, and asks her to add "pixie dust" (imidazole). By this time, a different TA, Patrick, has meandered over to watch my reaction as well (and with good cause). She adds it, I'm expecting it to glow a little stronger but still pretty faintly. But no, I shook it, and the vial lit up like a lantern. I promptly let out a "Oh sh-" and proceed to freak out. I then rush back to my lab bench to do the other two.

By this time, Jason (my lab partner) has finished his, so I rush back over to see the vial light up a super bright orange. I then freak out because I figured out I had enough product left to do three more, and tell Jason to hold off the rest of the reactions until we can set them all up and do them all at once (he didn't have as much product so we were going to just use mine). I'm pretty sure all of the lab TAs and Professor Gingrich were greatly amused by my excitement, because Patrick comes over as I'm readying the given fluorescers (orange, green, and blue) and asks if I'd like a pinkish red one as well. 

Readied all four of the reactions, reacted all of them, and bam. 

I definitely told them that this was the best day of my life. And that's probably an exaggeration, but it's a pretty excellent day now. =] And honestly, I'm pretty sure my lab TAs were almost as entertained by my reaction to the reaction as I was by the actual reaction.

This is part of why I love chemistry.

Fine

Don't worry, because I knew what you meant when you said everything would be fine. Because I've been through it too many times to retain that "naive hope." Because I mean the same thing when I say things will be fine, and that you'll be fine. Because I know that fine is never just fine. Because I use it so many times, the only definition that make sense any more is the meaning you gave.

I never liked it when he told me he was fine. "How was your day?" "Fine." "How were classes?" "Fine." And I'd press him for more details, and eventually they'd come, but conversations rarely started without a "Fine."

And it bothered me because my own version of "fine" was so different from his own. That my "fine" seemed to be so different from everyone else's. Because my fine meant more than just fine. Because my fine wasn't just a backup answer. Because my fine meant that I that I was struggling, that I was fighting hard to see the hope that wasn't evident to me, but that despite this, I knew that this was just another test. Because I would keep going and get through it, and whatever was holding me back at the moment wouldn't be in the future. Because my fine didn't mean that I was okay, it meant that I would be, eventually. It didn't mean that I wasn't failing, wasn't struggling, but that despite this, I knew there was a bigger meaning and things that were more important. My fine wasn't neutral.

And people knew this, if they didn't completely understand it. That my default mode wasn't "fine." Because my default was "pretty good," and my days were never "bad." At first they would ask me, "Why? What made your day good?" And they found it weird that I never really had a particular reason. And they found it even weirder that even on days I got back a failing test grade, bruised myself in guard, tripped and forgot things, I still called it a pretty good day. Because, I thought, just one good thing would be enough to counter most of the bad things which happened. Because one blessing, however small, gave enough hope to get me through most of the troubles of the day. And after a while, I guess my friends caught on a little. Because when I responded to "How are you?" with "Fine." some of them would ask "Why just fine?" And I would know that they knew, that they had realized my fine meant more than just fine.

So don't worry about telling me it will be fine, because even if your definition of fine doesn't line up with your meaning, mine does. 

I know that fine is never that simple.

Today

6:52 am. She looks into the mirror, tugs a strand of hair behind an ear, and sighs. Yet another day. Walking to the bus, she grabs a muffin for the ride, and steadies herself for the onslaught that she knows will come. She settles into her seat at the very back and watches as others stream on, laughing and smiling, all ready for another day. She pulls the ear buds from her pockets, undoes the neatly coiled wires, and switches on her music.

Today is your day.

She stares out the window, sees cars passing by and a few joggers on their morning workout. She wonders what their lives are like. Where are they going? What do they have planned for the day? What are their stories? She smiles as she sees a couple, the guy’s arm casually draped around the girl’s shoulders. She closes her eyes for a while and imagines how perfect their lives might be. Pretty soon the bus driver is yelling at her to get off, and she does so, slowly and reluctantly. As she heads to her first class, she pauses in front of the doors and steels herself. She switches up the music and walks in.

Today is your day.

And immediately, the names start. Loser. Hey freak! She tries to ignore them. She knows they aren’t right. They can’t be right.

You deserve a chance to shine.

But throughout the day, it gets a little harder to not care. Notes scribbled on her desk. You’re worthless. A letter in her locker. Everyone would be better off without you. And the words flung at her, pounding, pounding in her head. Disgrace. Selfish. Hopeless. And she turns her music up louder, trying to drown out the voices, the voices telling her that she’s a waste of space, a sorry excuse for a human being. It can’t be true, it can’t be. She does well in school, she tries to help others, she’s a good person – she is, right? – so they can’t be right. Remember, you don’t deserve anything you’ve been given.

You knew that you deserved it ‘cause you’ve been through a whole lot.

And she’s glad to be back on the bus, back in her world, staring out the window. She loses herself in the lives of others, making up stories for the people she sees outside, making their lives so much, so much better than hers.

‘Cause you knew there’d be a day you’d have your way.

But she goes back home to the same type of hell. How are you so stupid? A tear falls down her face as she works on her calculus homework. You’re a disappointment to everyone around you. And she locks herself in her room, shuts out the world, blasts music so loud it’s almost loud enough to hide her own thoughts.

Even in your own home it’s a battle zone, ‘cause everything you did wasn’t good enough for them.

And she fights those battles, a brave soldier, journeying on despite her wounds, these gaping holes in her heart where those harsh words cut to her soul. But she keeps on going, bleeding, bleeding, just trying to keep her head high, a smile on her face.

You’re smiling on the outside but inside it’s cold.

And she curls up in her bed at 2 am, making herself as small as possible among fluffy blankets and stuffed animals. And she cries, tears streaming down her face, staring through the window at the moon, trying to find the serenity that was the norm a few years ago.

And you prayed every night hoping for a better day.

And when she finally falls asleep, her dreams are peaceful. In them, she’s accepted, and loved, and happy with her place in the world.

But come morning, those dreams are shattered. Her eyes flicker open and after a few minutes staring at the blank white ceiling, she drags herself out of bed to face the world once more.

And that’s why you’re amazing, you never gave up.

But after a while, hours, days, weeks, months, she does give up. She cuts herself down, she believes those voices, and with the same determination that she approached every day hoping for a better day, that night she decides it’s not worth it.

The choice is yours so now or never.

And in the morning, she’s gone.

And at her funeral, everyone cries. Her friends, her family, her teachers, mentors, coworkers. And yes, they had called her things, but they called her beautiful, and kind, smart and selfless. They called her a role model, their role model. They told her she was a wonderful person, that she was going places, that she was always so positive. They told her what a great friend she was. They told her how lucky and how blessed they were to know her, and how she had a beautiful soul. They told her how they admired her willingness to help others. And they saw the smile on her face since it brought smiles to their own, and they loved her happiness and energy. They told her how they loved her.

And they all cried because none of them saw it coming. Her only tormentor was herself. Each and every one of those voices was in her head. Each and every one of those voices was her own.

And as the only song on her playlist played in the background, everyone looked to the sky.

You look good up top from down below.

And maybe it does hurt a little that they don't ask if I'm okay. But you know what? That's okay, because just one is enough. And there's always one.