Current blog: http://www.the-streame.com/
Current science blog: http://coffee-break-psu.blogspot.com/

Adventure.

This summer has come off to an amazing start. From CFA roof, to Doherty roof, to Kennywood, to roof pong, to midnight football, to High School Musical, to Camp Rock (yes we are very cool), to Pamela's, to Frisbee, to Fuel and Fuddle...I hope it will be like this for the next few months.

Work.

I can't believe the first week of summer is already gone. With my job, internship, and a messed up sleep schedule, the past few days seem to have flown by so quickly. Today was the busiest day of the week: after having only three and a half hours of sleep last night (I wasn't tired so I decided to stay up cleaning, packing, and fixing the goddamn mini fridge), I woke up at 7am for work. I stopped by Subway, like I have every day of this week, and got my $3 Breakfast Combo -- a 6 inch sub with ham, egg, cheese, lettuce, onions, and tomatoes, plus a free coffee! I then spent the next four and half hours making mailing envelopes, doing inventory, cleaning kitchens and conference rooms, replenishing supply closets, and running other such errands. I really like it at the Office of Computing Services. Everyone who works there is so friendly and welcoming and I've really begun to take pride in being part of the office staff.

Anyways, after I got off work at 12:30 today, I caught a 61D to Oakland just in time. I got off at Fifth and Thackery and made a beeline for Five Guys, but I arrived one second too late and ended up behind a long line of summer camp kids. Walking out of the store, I spotted a little bagel shop across the street, where I very happily purchased a $2 bagel with cream cheese (using money that I actually worked for myself has made me extremely frugal, if you haven't noticed. I had leftover pizza for dinner later in the night, too.) I then made my way to Allen Hall, where I met up with the professor I am interning for this summer. From 1:00 to about 5:30, I worked on various assignments that he gave me. To be honest, I was a little nervous at the start of the summer to be working with such an influential and intelligent professor on the Sloan Digitial Sky Survey, which I knew virtually nothing about, but I have actually been able to learn a vast amount of information in just the past week alone and am feeling really confident about the rest of the summer. I am amazed by how the gigantic (and beautiful) telescope in New Mexico uses plates plugged with optical fibers to locate specific galaxy clusters. I am in awe of how light traveling through the early Universe created baryon acoustic oscillations which have left imprints in the cosmic microwave background radiation, resulting in the spatial distribution of galaxy clusters we see today. I am intrigued by how exoplanets too far away to be seen can still be detected by the Doppler Effect they create on the spectrum of the star they are orbiting. I am excited not just to learn more, and not just for the rest of the summer -- I am excited to seriously pursue a career path in physics and astronomy. For the first time, I am no longer worried about what will happen after college, because I have something I want, something to aim for, something to work towards. Having motivation makes all the difference.

Freshman Firsts.

As I sit here in my dorm I hear the unfamiliar voices of my floormates' parents outside my door. Storage boxes line the hallway and cars with open trunks line the streets, ready to be loaded and driven home. I wish I was going home too, but I'll be staying in Pittsburgh for a summer internship. While I prepare myself for the exciting months ahead of me, I am simultaneously thinking back on the months that have just passed -- the months which made up my freshman year of college, the months that came to an end yesterday afternoon as I handed in my last final exam.

I still remember August of last year, when I sat on my bed at home and looked around myself at my unusually clean room. The books were stacked neatly on their shelves, the table cleared off and covered only with the glow of an old desk lamp, the violin stand tucked into a corner and the violin against the wall, the closet almost empty, and the suitcases, which I tried to pack my whole life in, waiting near the door for the moment I'd move out. I was nervous to leave the town where I lived for my entire life, nervous to leave the parents who loved and supported me through everything I did, nervous to leave the friends who I shared so many unforgettable memories with. And yet, as orientation week rolled around the corner, I was thrown into a world of complete strangers, unfamiliar surroundings, a bed that was too high, bus routes which confused me, and food that was much too salty. Everything became a blur of "What's your name? What's your major? Where are you from? What dorm do you  live in?" I felt as if I met more people in that one week than I had met my whole life. It was crazy.

It wasn't long, though, before I began to say things like "I'm going home now" when I was headed to my dorm, or before I began to eat every meal with a regular group of people -- the people who are now my best friends. Classes were hard, there's no doubt about that, but it was through those hours of frustration trying to figure out problem sets together that I became friends with half of the people I am close with today. Life began to settle into a regular pattern. Pretty soon, I was figuring out who I going to live with next year, locking down a job and internship for the summer, and making a Four Year Plan with my academic adviser. Then came Carnival, then two weeks of hell as I spent every free moment coding my term project, then finals week. And just like that, my freshman year was over.

I learned some things this year. There are the simple things, like learning how to keep a checkbook, how to take a bus to South Side or the Waterfront or Squirrel Hill, how to fill out tax forms, how not to get drunk, and how to fly home and back to Pittsburgh by myself. But then there are the other things: I learned how much I depend on my parents, I learned how genuinely good people all my friends are, I learned how small my accomplishments are compared to those of some other so talented people here, I learned what trust is and what it means to abuse it, I learned how important it is not to waste money, and I learned how often it is that people make mistakes. I learned that things never turn out the way you expect them to -- freshman year sure didn't -- but I also learned that once you accept this, happiness is never far away.

Renaissance.

I wish I was more cultured. Sophisticated. I'm sitting here now in sweatpants and my hair down, but every once in a while I dream of wearing an elegant gown with a criss-crossed corset design in the back. It would be strapless, perhaps light pink, and I would have my hair up - although a couple of loose, curled strands would still be allowed to fall in my face. My eyes would be bright and full of life, my lips curved in a polite smile. I don't know where I would be or who I'd be with. Maybe at a ball, maybe having afternoon tea. We would talk about Monet's lily pads and Van Gogh's tortured soul. We'd compare the architecture from the Baroque period and the Gothic period. We would discuss impressionism and realism. Beautiful music would fill the background, and I would know exactly who the composer was. Sometimes, when I have watched too many superficial movies or filled too many of my conversations with meaningless gossip, my life feels rather trivial. Silly. I ought to sit down with a proper cup of coffee and read Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence or take out a sketch pad and draw something beautiful. Now that would be a better use of time.

By the way, I self narrated all of this in an English accent. But even in my head, I don't think I could get that right.

2012.

I have only one new years resolution for 2012 and that is to keep things simple. This past year has been weird, hectic, and much too complicated. It had it's great moments, of course - prom, graduation, probably one of the best summers of my life, my first semester at Carnegie Mellon, and making new friendships that will last a lifetime - but it's left me with some regrets as well, some mistakes that I hope to never make again, disappointments that I should've seen coming, and guilt that I have only myself to blame for. I mean, you definitely learn from the trials of life, and ups and downs are inevitable, but I've found that when I stay true to myself and the values and morals that my family has taught me, life tends to be easier, simpler, and better. So this year, I don't have to strive for perfection or set a million goals for myself to achieve; I just want to keep life simple and keep the mirror clean - so when I look at my own reflection, it's the girl I've always been.

Winter Break.

Something about tonight has left me inexplicably teary-eyed. I can't quite place my finger on what it is I'm feeling right now - sadness? disappointment? confusion? - but whatever the emotion, it has left me with a bruised heart, the kind of ache that pulses dully below the surface, harmless if untouched, but reaching deep into the past. It's just strange to come back home for winter break and discover that the people you held dearest to you, the people you believed would be your closest confidants long after high school, have changed - maybe not obviously, but in little ways that mattered to you. I love my friends, I admire them, I look up to them, they make me who I am...so I guess it's upsetting to see them with changed attitudes that conflict with my own morals. Will we walk away from each other? Who will be better off? What if this is just the beginning, what if we're still young, what if years from now I won't even remember the names of the people who, right now, I am so scared of losing?

Driving.

The wind slashes at her car as she drives through the night, barely making yellow lights, flying towards nowhere. There is no one in the passenger seat; her only company is the voice on the radio. She steps on the gas and speeds away under the delusional idea that the faster she goes, the quicker she can catch up to the girl she used to be.

Of Mice And Men.

I think I've been living my life wrong. See, I have this crazy imagination -- I let my dreams run wild, get caught up in the beauty of how infinite the possibilities of my future are, then crash into a wall the second the tiniest flicker of doubt enters my mind. Not the doubt that I may not succeed -- the doubt that I may be wasting my time going after something I don't want. It's not that I'm fickle -- just curious. Open minded. Eager to live my life, but confused about how I'm supposed to be living it. I know what advice any sensible person would give me: enjoy your life and stop worrying so much. You're still young, you have plenty of time to figure out what you want and who you are. But what if I make a mistake? What if I go down a one way road that leads to a life that I could never be proud of? I know I'm being dramatic. I know that the future can only be planned up to a certain extent, and that even "the best laid plans...often go astray." But we only have one chance to live, and I guess I'm scared that I won't get it right. I can only hope that my tendency to dream too much will one day land me where I'm meant to be.

Hope.

Tell me, what is hope? One of my favorite quotes has always been Emily Dickinson's "Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul." In my eyes, hope was that shining beacon, that glimmering North Star that would sparkle unwaveringly as the lost traveler's guide. But yesterday, someone said something that shattered this beautiful image: "Hope is for people who don't know what they're doing." And as much as I didn't want to believe it, he was right. People only resort to hope when they feel like they are not in control of their own futures anymore. But how can the one thing that keeps people from giving up also be the proof that one has given up?

Graduation.

I've been meaning to write the inevitable end-of-the-year graduation post for a long time, but I kept putting it off. I guess a silly part of me thought that if I never wrote it, we'd never really graduate.

This past Sunday, I attended Maggie, Sherry, and Melissa's senior recital at the Unitarian Society - my old preschool. As I walked up the steps, my mind flashed back to the picture of Tim and me as little kids, holding hands while prancing down these very steps. Staring out at the playground, the vague, blurry scene slowly came into focus as my eyes traced the contours of the wooden play sets, restoring the memories that the past twelve years had pushed to the back of my mind. As I reached the door, I smiled to myself when I remembered how I bawled my eyes out and refused to walk through that same door on my first day of preschool.

Yesterday, I went on an interesting little adventure - after Tamarack with Greg and Victor, lunch at Stewart's, playing ping-pong at a stranger's house, chilling in Amalan's sister's room, and getting water balloon-ed in Jesse's backyard...we somehow ended up having a little picnic (if that's what you call four people eating sushi in a playground) at Lawrence Brook School. The slides which were once blue were now an ugly shade of green, the huge ten-tire swing was no longer in existence, the awesome zip-lines were no where to be seen, the metal poles were replaced by bright red poles, and a stupid tree stood in the place where I used to jump off swings. But the mulch on the ground still smelled the same, the bull dog face was still there, and the kids on the playground were playing tag just as happily as I once did.

Today, I woke up and decided that I was going to be productive. I went to the high school and returned the track uniform that had been sitting in my closet for months and picked up the scholarship that I got at the sports banquet. When I came home, I cleaned my room and registered for the classes I'd be taking next fall. I then wrote a thank you letter to the donor of the scholarship and mailed it off, along with an AP assessment form for Carnegie Mellon. And then I decided that I was finally going to log onto blogspot and write the post I've been meaning to write for so long.

In the last three days, I managed to set foot on my preschool, my elementary school, and my high school. I did a lot in these three days, but they seemed to go by really fast. In the blink of an eye, we'll be getting our diplomas. And just like I once cried because I didn't want to start preschool, I will be crying again on graduation - but this time it'll be happy tears.

Spontaneity.

For someone who seems to like planning things out so much, I'm awfully attracted to the element of surprise. For some reason, I can't stand re-reading books or re-watching movies, even if I really enjoy them the first time around. However exciting, suspenseful, or action-packed the plot is, always knowing what's going to happen next decimates my interest. It's not that I think my life is boring or that I don't like having some consistency, but half of the time (such as now), I feel like I'm just sitting around waiting for something exciting to happen. The problem is, this wait is getting kind of long and I'm beginning to lose my patience.

Shh.

I think it's ironic that the sharing of secrets can bring people together but the revealing of secrets will tear them apart. I used to think that it was stupid whenever we played truth or dare at sleepovers because no one ever did the dares that were actually good, and as for truths, I never really had any secrets. It seems things have changed in the past few years.

Dependence.

I'm not a misanthrope or the type who prefers solitude to company; I like being with people. In fact, I thrive off social contact. Without my friends, I am not only nobody but I am nothing. So it might sound a little strange when I say that I hate depending on others. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for cooperation; I work well in groups and I get along with pretty much everyone. I like being the person other people can rely on, but I absolutely despise being on the opposite end of this dependence thing. It's not that my trust in others has ever been abused or that I find myself being disappointed very often. I hold all my friends in a very high regard and I know that I can count on them in almost every situation. But I don't know...there's just this feeling I have. A craving for independence, if you will. I guess it's just that some people will come and go in your life. At some point you'll lose a friend; heck, I've already drifted from so many once-close friends over the past few years. Maybe I'm just afraid to invest too much of myself into others because when they leave - or when I leave - I don't know how much of myself will never be returned. It's safer not to depend on others. But then again...maybe it's worth the risk. Maybe that's what friendships are all about. I should have more faith in people...I'm just being stubborn.

My First Language.

I know a few languages. I speak English fluently, Mandarin occasionally, and Spanish when my Spanish teacher requires me to. Three languages seems impressive enough, until compared to the number of languages that are recognized in the world...over six thousand. Under normal circumstances, this figure would cause me considerable alarm, but fortunately, there is one language I know that I left out before, and it happens to be the single language that is universal: laughter.

More than the sound of breathing tides, more than the sound of clicking horse hooves, more than the sound of a golf ball at impact, I love the sound of laughter. Sometimes it's the obnoxious guffaw that follows an inappropriate joke made at a lunch table of immature teenagers. Sometimes it's the delighted chortle of a five year old girl who has just discovered a new hobby of wrapping your hair around her fingers. Sometimes it's the soft chuckle of an ardent lover as his lips brush past your ear. Sometimes it's the chorus of harmonizing pitches as a family joke is told around the Thanksgiving turkey.

No matter who, what, when, where, why, or how, laughter doesn't need letters, nor characters, nor accents; it can't be written, but can be spoken by all. Laughter is the one language that everyone can understand, but the best part about it is that it's easy to learn.

Rearview Mirrors.

Whenever I come to a stop at a red light, I glance up at my rearview mirror. One time, I saw a girl wearing a Santa hat with her left arm slung carelessly out the window. Another time, I saw a mother with a stern face, looking straight ahead, silent, while her daughter sat in the passenger seat texting away. Sometimes I'll see a young couple: the boy will lean over and give her a quick kiss on the cheek and the two will smile. Once, I saw a wife talking on and on, for the entirety of the red light, her thick eyebrows moving erratically with each word, as her husband sat to her right with his chin resting against a propped up arm, bored out of his mind. Occasionally, there will be a dog, its proud head sticking haughtily out the window, tongue hanging out from the side of its mouth. It's really interesting, these little windows into people's lives. It kind of makes me wonder what the driver in front of me sees when he looks in his rearview mirror. A lonely girl singing to herself in the car? A tired athlete in her varsity jacket, her hair a total mess? Or maybe I'm just a face obscured by a pair of sunglasses, a total stranger who is nobody to the rest of the world.

We're Going To Be Okay.

Once again, I am writing when I should probably be studying physics. My recent introduction to tumblr has awakened the creative mind that went into hiding during these past few busy weeks, so I've been writing a poem a day and not really doing much else. As fun as tumblr is, though, I think I'll save the thoughts that really matter to me for this blog.

Reading Jon and Amy's posts about regret made me sad. At first I thought I was sad because I too had regrets, but then I realized that I was really just sad because the fact that we are all now reflecting on our pasts is a sign that our lives as high school students is actually nearing its end. I guess a part of me thought I'd sleep in this same room for the rest of my life, wake up at the same time every morning to go to school, hang out with the same people on weekends, wear the Uggs that I've worn all winter for every winter there ever is.

I always thought the past was concrete and the future was unpredictable, but now I realize that the past is just as big of a mystery as the future. We'll never know what opportunities we should have taken, what decisions we made poorly, or who we would be now had we done some things differently. We could torture ourselves with a symphony of what-ifs, but the orchestra would be out of tune and the band would play too loudly. I'm not saying that I'm 100% happy with who I am right now, nor do I think the turns my life has taken are anything less than strange. Here I am, sitting at my desk on a Sunday morning, ignoring the cough drop wrappers to my left which I should probably throw out, as well as the finished cup of tea to my right that I should bring downstairs, looking ridiculous in an entire outfit of green because my track sweats are just so comfortable, typing away on my blogspot while my AP physics midterm review sits unfinished in front of me. I don't appear to be a very impressive person from the scene I've just described. I can't play the harp (though I'd like to learn how), I haven't published a book (though I hope to achieve this sometime before the end of my life), I can't juggle (despite how randomly awesome I think this talent would be, and despite how many times my brother has tried to teach me), nor can I breakdance or do karate (I always thought these would be particularly impressive for a girl), I only know three languages (and I'm not even that good at Mandarin or Spanish), I'm not naturally intelligent (my brother got those genes), I'm not famous (who can pronounce my last name right anyway?), and the only things I really know for sure are that I love my pet dog very much and that I'm leaving my house in approximately two hours to go to the library. My point is, having regrets won't change the past and worrying too much about the future won't ensure that you become who you want to be, because chances are you're not even sure about who that is right now. Just be happy with who you are, understand yourself, and trust yourself -- I really think we're all going to be okay.

Snow.

This morning after I finished breakfast I peeked out the window and, noticing that the weather seemed pretty decent and not too dangerous to drive in, went to my mom's room to tell her I was leaving for school. "Is it snowing?" she asked. "Nahhh." But then my mom looked out the window and suddenly out of no where there was this crazy snowstorm going on outside and the snow was already starting to stick. I told her it was fine, that it was mostly rain and not snow anyways, but she insisted on driving me to school.

I guess I was feeling a bit annoyed that she wouldn't let me drive (because we teenagers think we're so cool, obviously) but in any case, we left the house at around seven and were driving through the flurries when I realized she was actually right in not letting me drive. After we turned left from Gage Road onto Sullivan Way, the car continued sliding to the left and wouldn't stop. My mom responded by steering to the right, but then the car turned to the right and wouldn't stop turning either! This lasted all of about ten seconds probably, and there were no other cars nearby, but it was actually the first time I had been in a car so out of control before. Anyways, my mom spent the rest of the car ride to the high school ranting about how dangerous it was to drive in the snow. She was talking so much that I was actually worried that she wasn't paying attention to the road and that we'd get in an accident or something. When we arrived at the high school and I was getting out of the car, I realized she would be driving home by herself in the snow while clearly in a flustered mood, and suddenly got really concerned and told her to be careful driving home. I guess I know how she feels now, whenever I want to drive and she won't let me. Next time I won't get annoyed anymore. Next time I'll appreciate the fact that she cares.

TV.

Sometimes I feel like I'm watching my own life as it plays across a television screen. The problem is, someone else has the remote.

Shooting Star.

I remember the first time I learned what a shooting star really was. I guess I always thought it was really a star falling across the sky, something beautiful, something that glowed with the reassuring power to grant my wishes. The way I feel right now is the way I felt the day I realized a shooting star is really just a meteoroid burning through the atmosphere, an ugly boulder falling to its demise.

I tend to be too trusting, inevitably setting myself up for disappointment. I've always had incredible faith in humanity, but little by little this faith has begun to erode. In the past few years, my perception of the world around me has increased in pessimism, but in the past few weeks, I've been losing faith not only in the world but in myself. I've always prided myself on having good morals and always doing the right thing. I think it's become so much a part of who I am that people even expect it from me, but it pains me to think that they might be wrong. I feel like I've been making some bad decisions lately, that these bad decisions will become mistakes, and that these mistakes will define who I am.

"People are gonna disappoint you. I get that, I kind of expect that. But I don't know, what if you get up one day and realize that you're the disappointment?"