Hello! I’m back from China! After two months of immersing in a very monophonic culture, I’ve realized that I’ve lost some of my English abilities – I get occasional brain-farts while conversing with native English-speakers (never noticed how FAST we speak) and can’t think of slang expressions that I want to use on the spot. It’s quite sad, actually. Also, I tried hand-writing some things last night, and my handwriting looks…uh, different (translation: bad). It’s okay, hopefully time will fix all these things.

Also, transferring flights in Toronto was one of THE worst life experiences I have ever had. Even broke down in tears in front of a (very tall and handsome) American Airlines representative. It was embarrassing, but he seemed nice enough not to further make me feel like crap. I won’t elaborate on the horrific layover experience because it brings up bad memories (even though it was, like, yesterday), lol. So I digress.

Additionally, as soon as I got home, my TOM (time of the month) came, so I knew it was going to be crampin’ time again (I have the absolute WORST period cramps on the first day. Like, every time I literally feel like puking and going number 3 at the same time. Sigh, my life is too hard). Sure enough, just as I was getting ready for bed (got home at around 1 AM, mind you), the pain started. It was unbearable. This, added onto my horrible jetlag, added onto my semi-insomnia, resulted in my getting a grand total of 90 minutes of sleep. It was great. Uh, not. My stomach (that’s probably not the correct term – uterus?) is still hurting as I’m typing this, by the way.

The trip in general was interesting and eventful. Along the way, I was able to cross off numerous things from my bucket list, which was absolutely amazing. Needless to say, I saw a lot. But the trip also made me realize a lot of things that I thought differently about before, so I will probably reflect about those things in a later post. Now, I’m going to try and fix my internal clock with a melatonin tablet (ugh). I will leave you with a beautiful sneak peek (taken by my brand new camera) of the many wonderful sights I saw.

Lugu Lake
Yunnan, China


The Boston Student ‘Bucket List’: 10 Things You Must Do Before You Leave Beantown


I’m going to come back to this! (Sorry for the absence; anything with “wordpress” in the URL is BLOCKED in China! :C)

Originally posted on Thought Catalog:

In a city where the residents and visitors are energetic running enthusiasts, I’ve often wondered when anyone has the time to stop and “smell the roses,” (or the tulips, if you’re in the Boston Public Garden), especially in a bustling metropolis where work, studies, and other intellectual obligations dictate students’ schedules. My personal experience with bucket lists is that they just aren’t – they’re more of a romanticized conception of what you WOULD do IF you had the time.

Instead of theoretical ponderings, here is a “bucket list” of ten beautiful buildings you SHOULD and CAN explore before you have to leave Boston. Feel free to run, walk, or even take the MBTA on your adventures, as the locations are listed by their positions on the public transport line. 

Go out there and explore, snow or shine. You won’t always be twenty-something living in Boston! 

10. Historic North End 

Shutterstock Shutterstock

View original 1,055 more words


So I’m just, you know, hanging out at DFW all by my lonesome right now. I board in 23 minutes. It’s kind of lonely (this is my first time flying internationally alone), but at the same time I like observing the flow of people and the chatter peacefully by myself.

Random picture of a new toner I got because I feel like this post needs some visual embellishment :)

Random picture of a new toner I got because I feel like this post needs some visual embellishment :)

A Tribute (Not) to Someone

I see the way you admire yourself in front of our sink mirror.
You tie your hair up. You quickly let it down. It’s not much better.
That mucky yellow-brown hair. You love your dyed hair.
You run your hands through it again.
You smile at yourself. Forty-five minutes pass.
I grit my teeth, still waiting for a chance to brush them.
Waiting until you stare at yourself long enough to see someone beautiful.
You are not  beautiful.
No, as far as I’m concerned, you are narcissistic.

The girl I knew before I really knew you was someone I liked.
Someone I would consider beautiful.
Now I know that, to the outside world, you only pretend
to be friendly, selfless, kind.
You pretend so that you can gain the things you treasure.
Attention, companionship, adoration. Your words are empty.
You need stimulation. Social stimulation.
So you suppress your ugly, selfish side.
You save that side for me.

Now, no matter how I look at you,
no matter how long you take to apply your makeup
and brush your hair,
change in and out of clothing,
I only see mean.

I could never stand up to you.
I never had it in me,
no matter how hard I tried to be courageous.
I guess I’d just never met someone like you.
Every time I respond to your sharp words
with soft words
of submissiveness, weakness, and fear,
I think of a cleverer response much later.
One that I wish I had said,
but know that I wouldn’t have,
even if I had it on the tip of my tongue.
Because I don’t do conflict.

But that’s a lesson I will have learned through my time with you.
Because of you, I know to be stronger,
Because of you, I know to grow.

I know that your time will come, too.
Soon, someone will finally be able to do what I never could.
They’ll be even more thick-skinned than you.
They won’t take your shit.
Both literally and  figuratively.

As for now, I just can’t wait until
I will never see the reflection of your face
through our sink mirror ever again.
Striving so hard to be beautiful
but never achieving it.


Pretty by Katie Makkai

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What will I be? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? What comes next? Oh right, will I be rich?” Which is almost pretty depending on where you shop. And the pretty question infects from conception, passing blood and breath into cells. The word hangs from our mothers’ hearts in a shrill fluorescent floodlight of worry.

“Will I be wanted? Worthy? Pretty?” But puberty left me this funhouse mirror dryad: teeth set at science fiction angles, crooked nose, face donkey-long and pox-marked where the hormones went finger-painting. My poor mother.

“How could this happen? You’ll have porcelain skin as soon as we can see a dermatologist. You sucked your thumb. That’s why your teeth look like that! You were hit in the face with a Frisbee when you were 6. Otherwise your nose would have been just fine!

“Don’t worry. We’ll get it fixed!” She would say, grasping my face, twisting it this way and that, as if it were a cabbage she might buy.

But this is not about her. Not her fault. She, too, was raised to believe the greatest asset she could bestow upon her awkward little girl was a marketable facade. By 16, I was pickled with ointments, medications, peroxides. Teeth corralled into steel prongs. Laying in a hospital bed, face packed with gauze, cushioning the brand new nose the surgeon had carved.

Belly gorged on 2 pints of my blood I had swallowed under anesthesia, and every convulsive twist of my gut like my body screaming at me from the inside out, “What did you let them do to you!”

All the while this never-ending chorus droning on and on, like the IV needle dripping liquid beauty into my blood. “Will I be pretty? Will I be pretty? Like my mother, unwrapping the gift wrap to reveal the bouquet of daughter her $10,000 bought her? Pretty? Pretty.”

And now, I have not seen my own face for 10 years. I have not seen my own face in 10 years, but this is not about me.

This is about the self-mutilating circus we have painted ourselves clowns in. About women who will prowl 30 stores in 6 malls to find the right cocktail dress, but haven’t a clue where to find fulfillment or how wear joy, wandering through life shackled to a shopping bag, beneath those 2 pretty syllables.

About men wallowing on bar stools, drearily practicing attraction and everyone who will drift home tonight, crest-fallen because not enough strangers found you suitably fuckable.

This, this is about my own some-day daughter. When you approach me, already stung-stayed with insecurity, begging, “Mom, will I be pretty? Will I be pretty?” I will wipe that question from your mouth like cheap lipstick and answer, “No! The word pretty is unworthy of everything you will be, and no child of mine will be contained in five letters.

“You will be pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing. But you, will never be merely ‘pretty’.”


I am never going to have sex.

So I had a dream that I was having sex last night. It wasn’t graphic or anything, lol. Well, actually it kind of was. Not going to go into detail about it, though. It was only after it (the sex) was finished that I realized that the guy (some random guy I conjured up in my dream, he looked like a rapist) wasn’t wearing a condom. I wasn’t having safe sex. In my dream state (although it felt extremely real), I wondered why I wasn’t having protected  sex, why I was having sex in the first place. It just seemed so unlike me. I’m responsible, I’m always overly prepared for everything, I’m somewhat of a feminist (guys can do shit with their bodies without worrying about things like pregnancy, while females can’t).

I suddenly became really worried, so I asked the guy if he had AIDS (I’m kind of blunt in moments of anxiety; no time to play games).

“No, but I have HIV.” As if HIV and AIDS were two completely separate diseases, as if one was less threatening or fatal than the other.

What is the difference?! Both are a death sentence. (Basically. Although I’m aware that there are HIV-positive people living normal lives, but I would prefer not to be HIV-positive. I would prefer not to have a shitty immune system and die decades earlier than I’m supposed to. I would prefer not to spend millions on colorful pills. I may as well be dead.)

Suddenly, I was infuriated. By this man standing in front of me who engaged in sexual activity with me knowing he had a sexually transmitted virus. Who was so careless and thoughtless that he didn’t even think to wear a condom. Who had no regard whatsoever for the well-being of others.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Just wash yourself right now. Especially the outside. It should be fine.”

What the fuck? The outside? If it was the outside that mattered, people wouldn’t be dying from AIDS all over the world right this moment. 

Obviously this man was delusional. I might as well be speaking to a dead horse (he was dying, anyway).

I was terrified. I was hyperventilating. My mother came in (I have no idea why she was there) and asked me what was wrong. I was panicking. What was I going to tell her? That she was about to go bankrupt? That her only daughter had disobeyed her and not only had premarital sex, but had premarital sex with a stupid, reckless, diseased man I didn’t even like. The sex wasn’t even that good.

It was then that I snapped out of my dream. I woke up in my dorm bed. The first thoughts that entered my mind were, I haven’t had sex, I haven’t had sex. I don’t have HIV. I’m safe.

Two seconds later, I’m never going to have sex.

Who can I trust? How do I know these men aren’t walking around with HIV? Even if I wait until marriage, how do I know my husband isn’t walking around with HIV. It’s just so stupid. Is sex worth dying for?

My mom is right. I should probably listen to her for my own safety. The other day, I told her that I wanted to lose my virginity before marriage. She was mortified, of course, and even threatened to not send me off to Boston for college. After reading half of Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar, I could relate to a lot of what Esther Greenwood was talking about. It just seemed so unfair, that all guys either have premarital sex or want to have premarital sex. And girls are expected to remain “pure” for their husbands. At least that was the expectation of young women in the 1950s, when the story took place. But that’s also what’s expected of me now by my family.

But I just think that it’s impossible for me to find a good husband who is also “pure.” There are no guys like that, at least not in America. Even the supposed Christian guys who act pious are off secretly doing drugs and smoking without their parents knowing.

So I might as well not be “pure” either. At least it would be fair that way.

My mom got really mad when I said that, lol. She said that girls who have sex before marriage are hurting themselves. Why would I want to hurt myself just to seek some sort of justice? There are all sorts of risks, like STDs and pregnancy. And no contraception is 100%. Even women who tie their tubes have stillbirths, which is even worse on their bodies. Not to mention birth control pills have side effects. Why can’t men eat birth control pills, pills that kill their sperm? They should be the ones experiencing the fucking side effects.

The truth is, men and women will never be equal, at least not sexually. We weren’t built equal. Women, like it or not, are baby factories (it makes me mad just to think about it. It makes me want to go on strike and never have a baby. It would spare me the pain, anyway). We have to protect ourselves. Men and women can be equal when it comes to rights and intelligence. But biologically? Who are we trying to fool?

My mom assures me that there are men out there who respect women and choose to abstain from sex until marriage. They’re virgins, but not because they have no other choice. I’m just worried because what if they lie to me? What if they say they’re a virgin but really aren’t? Going back to that whole unfair thing….

I don’t know. I think I just have to wait and see what happens next in my life and not worry too much about whether someone has had sex.

Life is just too difficult. I really don’t want to lower my standards.

Health Update 2

With high school coming to an end, I want to finish strong. I’ve grown very health-conscious lately, especially after finding an awesome medical/health blog and getting my physical examination lab results. I’m healthy right now, but I’ve realized that I could be healthier. Most importantly, I want to maintain my health – for years to come. I’m still not very good with the whole exercising thing (very, very bad actually), but I’m actually not that concerned about it right now. For me, it’s like the icing on the cake (bad analogy for a post about health). My life is by no means sedentary (it’s really pretty active), so getting the chance to regularly exercise is just a bonus. I need to do it in addition to eating healthy and living an otherwise healthy lifestyle, not in lieu of it. With that, here is my update.

Skin: Meh. My skin has not been that great lately, but I don’t think it’s necessarily my doing. I think I just have to wait it out. I’m getting my first facial this Saturday, so hopefully that will help immensely with my congestion problems!

Hygiene: Pretty good. No comment lol.

Sleep: I feel like I get good sleep (enough sleep), but I’m always very groggy in the morning. No idea why. Maybe I need even more sleep?

Body: I went to get a physical on Friday, and in addition to still having 20/20 vision (I’m very proud of this), I’m currently 5 feet 5 and a half inches, and 115.7 pounds. Which I’m honestly okay with. I want to be ~115. Any heavier and I know that I’m not eating healthy. Actually, even at 115.7, I honestly haven’t been eating the healthiest I can. But I feel like 115 is a weight I can maintain. A couple of months ago, when I was exercising and being diligent, I was down to 112 (and I was on my way to being even lighter, but of course I terminated my healthy lifestyle before I had the chance). But the 112-113 range is really difficult for me to stay in because I either stop exercising or start eating a shit ton, usually both. I do eventually want to be one of those runners though. I promise. I’ll get there. One day.

Diet: Let me put it this way: I eat really healthy when I want to. When I make a conscious effort to have a healthy diet, I do, and it feels great. But as soon as I have a craving, I usually give in. Which I need to stop doing. I’m going to try to not do that at all this week (after that, it’s all up in the air because I’ll be in China. There’s no use trying to resist food in China).

Mind: Good, I guess. Sometimes, I get pretty emotional though. I start crying for no reason. I get too overwhelmed by love, I guess. LOL.

Firmly Rooted

Sometimes I worry that I won’t be able to make it on my own in this unforgiving world. I’ve always dreamed of being an independent woman firmly rooted in her beliefs and passions, who is an expert at finding happiness in her own company. But the older and hopefully wiser I’ve become, the more I’ve come to appreciate the people I once thought I didn’t need. This enlightening realization is also what makes me afraid to go out into the polyphonic buzz of human society by myself, with no familiarity, no safety net, no soothing voice to tell me how to fix my life. Is this fear, loneliness, and emptiness what everyone experiences and becomes desensitized to, or are certain people just naturally immune?

Maybe I’m lucky that nothing has ever gone terribly wrong in my life. I’ve been blessed with a healthy family and healthy upbringing. So what will happen when things start falling apart around me? Will I be able to handle it without falling apart myself?

I’ve been contemplating converting to Christianity, even though I’ve believed narrowly in science for almost six years. But lately, I’ve found myself in situations where I’ve had the urge to pray. For myself, my family, for things that are just out of my control. It’s depressing to leave everything up to chance, to coincidences, and to the mundane dryness of science. Fate is what creates that spark in our lives. I think I believe in fate and the power of the universe. I also like the idea that someone is watching over me, protecting me, listening to my prayers, and smiling knowingly every time I make mistakes because they know that each mistake is a lesson. Maybe I don’t believe in the Christian God. But I want to start believing in my own god – my own guardian angel at the very least. I want to start believing that I’m never alone in this world, that I’ll always have someone on my side who sees the bigger picture, whoever they may be. Maybe I’m not so rootless after all.


So beautiful.

“I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean…”

Faith Renewed

I have renewed faith in humanity! (Sorry, 3rd post of the day. I promise this is the last one.)

Case 1: I was freaking out today because I couldn’t find my French textbook anywhere. No one seemed to know where it was. I was panicking and almost hyperventilating because I was thinking about paying $100+ for a 200-page tiny textbook. The last time I knew for sure I had it was on Monday, which was TWO DAYS AGO. That’s a long time for a book to be wandering by itself in a 30k-student university. I thought I’d lost it. I thought whoever laid their hands on it would just go and sell it on Ebay and make $100 or something. However, when I retraced my steps from Monday, I came to Sage Hall (the computer area), and saw it resting innocently underneath the Apple mouse. I almost cried from relief. 2 days. In a crowded computer area. Exactly where I had last left it when I used the computer. No one had taken it. No one had even moved it. (Well, maybe it was moved a little, because I don’t remember ever putting it under the mouse.)

Case 2: I’ve been freaking out for the past two days over my college decision.What if I don’t make friends? What if I don’t fit in? What if I suck academically? What if this, what if that? I even vented on College Confidential (I’m so cool). And then today, I saw that another member of the Class of 2018 reached out to me. She called me “amazing” and “genuine.” It made my day. Because even though this doesn’t really guarantee that I’ll have a great time at Wellesley, it at least gave me some reassurance. I made my first Wellesley “friend” today. (I also stalked the other girl and realized that we have much in common! I hope we can be friends.) That was just so nice of her.

Things I Learned in Boarding School

  1. How to study. Like, really study. In fact, I’m confident in my academic abilities because of my experience having my butt kicked Year 1 of this program.
  2. If you don’t have family, you don’t have anything. Being away from my family brought me closer to them, especially my parents. It made me realize how important they are, how much they’ve given up for me, and how much they truly love me. Don’t ever forget to appreciate your parents, even when you go out on your own. Remember how you are even able to experience so much. Read this article if you have immigrant parents like me.
  3. Diversity is important. My school is not diverse (hint: 70% is one race). As a result, there is a skewed sense of what is “cool.” The cliques formed are also very skewed. I’m so excited to attend a school that’s known for being extremely diverse. I can’t wait to meet all sorts of different people from all over the world.
  4. I want to be a physician. Having studied science for two years, I’ve discovered that science isn’t my strong point. Biology isn’t my strong point. And chemistry definitely isn’t. But I’ve learned to appreciate science. I’ve learned that incorporating pure sciences with skills learned from the liberal arts is what makes for a compassionate, talented physician.
  5. I can’t deal with confrontation. Roommate problems. Enough said. But I think I’ve gotten better (if only a little) at it. I need to grow stronger (again, Wellesley – perfect place), and learn to hold my own.
  6. It’s hard to balance school and friends. My grades almost suffered first semester first year because I “hung out” too much. I almost lost all my friends second semester because I studied too much. There’s a fine balance (I think Wellesley is the perfect place to find that balance).
  7. Integrity is at the core of every happy person. Honesty, integrity, kindness. Don’t lie. Don’t cheat. It seems like common sense, but  you’d be amazed how many people are lying to themselves and cheating themselves (not to mention others). Have a clear conscience! And get a good night’s sleep free from the fear of karma coming back to bite you in the butt.

Life Update

I have some (potentially surprising) news! I am officially a Wellesley woman!

I enrolled and paid my deposit late last night. All I can say is that I hope I made the right decision. Some people might not understand why I gave up Dartmouth and Cornell (*heartbreak*) for a women’s college, but I really think that I made the right call. Where one door closes, another (hopefully better) one opens.

Academically speaking, I’ll be fine at any of these 3 institutions. Sure, Dartmouth is “#1 undergrad” and all, but I really do think that I wouldn’t fit in as nicely at Dartmouth. It’s such a party school, and I really don’t think I’m the partying type. The people I saw on the Class of 2018 Facebook page also made me a bit skeptical of how welcoming and inclusive Dartmouth was (the boys especially seemed a bit cocky and at times rude; even the Cornell page was friendlier). Wellesley provides such a great balance! Work hard during the week, party hard in Boston on the weekends.

As for whether Wellesley will get me far in life, I honestly have no way of knowing for sure (just like I wouldn’t be sure Dartmouth would either). Perhaps I’ll just have to trust my instincts as well as all my research. The only thing I can do now is make sure I work extremely hard at Wellesley and take advantage of any and every opportunity that comes my way – whether it  be research, volunteering, leadership positions, internships, or (perhaps most importantly) an opportunity to make amazing lifelong friends.

College is a chance for me to grow into my own skin, and what better place to do that than on Wellesley’s beautiful, nurturing campus? Sure, there won’t be an abundance of (frat)boys on campus, but there will be guys in medical school (hopefully I’ll get into medical school). My education doesn’t stop after my 4 years at Wellesley. I’ll have many more chances to fraternize with the opposite sex later on. But I will never have the opportunity to bond and network and become sisters with the girls at Wellesley ever again. I’m going to try really, really hard to take advantage of this opportunity.

In other news, 8 days until graduation! I’m so excited! (Although I haven’t started studying for any of my finals because I’ve been so stressed out by this whole college decision thing. Can you believe it? Just months ago, I was worried that I wouldn’t GET IN college.)

8 days until the rest of my life begins. :)

Boston, expect me!


How can you expect other people  to love you when you don’t know how to love yourself?

I want to keep loving myself and the people around me. I never want to walk around looking over my shoulder, afraid that the mistakes I made in the past are going to catch up to me. I hadn’t realized until recently how important integrity is – the things a person does behind closed doors defines that person’s true nature. Regardless of how slim the chances are of other people discovering the dishonest thing you’ve done, you’ll always wonder when someone will stumble upon that thing of your past and oust you. It’ll keep eating away at your conscience, no matter how little your mistake was, until you eventually blow up and self-destruct.

I never want to be like that. I want to wake up every morning worry-free, with a clear conscience. Because karma coming back to bite me doesn’t just affect me – it affects the people that I love, the people who have given up so much for me. This is a lesson that I have to bring with me for the rest of my life.

I promise to always have integrity. I want the mistakes that I make from this point forward to be those made with the best of intentions, not out of selfishness or laziness or anything in between. I have to rise about those who stoop to dishonesty and foolish acts of carelessness in moments of blurriness.

I also promise to be more self-aware, to always try to embody the following qualities: confidence, selflessness, and kindness.


A side effect of watching too much TV – namely, too many chick flicks – is my tendency to break out in tears whenever I see a man holding on to his love for a woman, changing the very essence of who he is in order to be good enough for the woman he loves. That kind of epic love doesn’t just die out. Nor does it ever get replaced. It’s a once in a life time experience; there’s a reason why they call it “the love of their life (note: singular – love, not loves).” It’s when I see a fictional man fighting with everything he’s got in the name of love to prove himself and change himself that I wonder if people like that really exist, if love as strong as that exists.

Does every woman have that kind of power? Maybe not on every man, but on one man fated to be the love of her life? How special of a woman does she have to be? How kind, intelligent, confident, sexy, funny, loving does she have to be? Just how… charmed does a woman have to be to have that kind of power over a man?

Cole and Phoebe - from the television show Charmed  a.k.a. my all-time favorite show

Cole and Phoebe – from the television show Charmed
a.k.a. my all-time favorite show


Everything You Know About Sex Is Wrong


LOL I love this.

Originally posted on Thought Catalog:

Guys I’ve been doing a lot of reading on Tumblr and I’ve stumbled onto a faction of the radfem-dykequeer-genderfat movement that a lot of people might not be aware of. It’s called the anti-PIV crowd and no, PIV isn’t some new STD.

Apparently human beings, including you, have been having sex wrong since shortly after the dawn of time. We mistakenly believe that we’re supposed to engage in what’s known as PIV sex, that is, Penis-In-Vagina sex. Guess what? PIV sex is rape. Every time you’ve had sex you’ve either been raped, or you’re a rapist.

The sex that most people are doing now is actually just an invention of the patriarchy. It’s rape. Men invented PIV sex because it’s degrading to women and it’s suited to only pleasure them. That’s why most women never achieve orgasm during intercourse without additional clitoral stimulation. That’s why women have…

View original 610 more words




I’ve been thinking about a lot of the things that bother me about other people. And by bother, I don’t mean intensely irritate (that’s a whole other post), just kind of make me feel uncomfortable. Some people pursue goals and partake in certain activities for all the wrong reasons. Even if their goal or their activity is respectable, if the reasoning behind it is all wrong, then that respectability becomes annulled. Like the girls who work out at the gym  to have a better mating call for the opposite sex, like the people who want to be a petroleum engineer for the money. Working out and striving to be an engineer are great, but as soon as I hear those reasons, I just feel uncomfortable.

I have to strive to have good, pure, genuine reasons for the things I do as well. I need to learn not to get caught up in the petty things, and strive for a wholesome, fulfilling life. But truthfully, I think that for the most part, I have good reasons for my goals and activities. The only thing stopping me from sometimes fulfilling them is often laziness. I’m working on it.


Tentative Life Plan

I am in love with the radiology specialty. And after perusing a Medscape lifestyle report (http://www.medscape.com/features/slideshow/lifestyle/2012/radiology), I am even more inclined to set those 9 letters as my career goal. It’ll be challenging, but I’ve been a hard worker my entire life. I believe that I can handle it. It’s true that there are probably more “fitting” professions for a female, ones that aren’t as stressful, exhausting, and time-consuming. But I think the phrase “go big or go home” applies in my situation. Why not make my 18 years (and my parents’ countless years) of hard work pay off BIG? Why not attain my dream career, one that has massive potential to be truly fulfilling, truly life-altering? I think I’ve made up my mind.

As a natural planner, I also feel the need to get high off of making lists and plans for my future.

  • 2014 – 2018: B.A. in Computer Science (maybe double major or minor in something else, but not at the expense of my GPA, social life, or extracurriculars) from Dartmouth (assuming I don’t change my mind again). During the summer before medical school, take a massive vacation (tour Europe!)
  • 2018 – 2022: M.D. from a notable medical school (probably UTSW, BSM, or some other relatively affordable yet prestigious school). Make family/marriage plans (this is important; I wouldn’t want to be a 30-year-old virgin. At least take initiative around this time).
  • 2022 – 2026/2027: Radiology residency! (Some programs that I like – MassGen, Columbia, Stanford, UCSF, UTSW, UPenn)
  • 2027 – whenever: Enjoy my family life/travel/career! Put brother through (amazing) college.

Yup, wishful thinking. But oh-so-fun to fill my mind with.


I’m excited to say that I will most likely be joining the Dartmouth Class of 2018 next fall! I’m still considering Wellesley (maybe 30%), but my heart is strongly urging me to choose Dartmouth. Can I just make arguments for both sides? Feel free to push me in either direction!

There has been the slight issue of sexual assault/student protest at Dartmouth these past couple of months, so if only to consider my own safety, Wellesley is probably a better fit. However, the University is reforming its policies, and this issue should improve over the next few years. Plus, almost every co-ed university will have this issue; Dartmouth is not an outlier. Purely “prestige” speaking, Dartmouth far outweighs Wellesley (regardless of what some stubborn, naive women might like to say on College Confidential). Not only is it a member of the Ivy League (and the only member to be a true “liberal arts” university with a major focus on the undergraduate college; it’s been ranked #1 for undergraduate teaching several years in a row), Dartmouth is in the top 10 U.S. colleges in almost every ranked list out there, while Wellesley is probably in the 30-40 range. On the other hand, there has been some speculation that Dartmouth may be “on the decline,” due to its sexual assault issues that have made headlines. Wellesley, contrastingly, is probably on the “rise,” especially if Hillary is elected in 2016 (fingers crossed). The argument to counter that is simply the belief that women’s colleges may not be needed anymore. After all, Wellesley was Harvard’s counterpart back when only males were allowed to attend the Cambridge school. Nowadays, virtually every school has opened its gates wide for females, including all the traditional ones which had women’s college counterparts – Harvard, Columbia, MIT, Amherst. Besides, the view that women need a special environment to grow and flourish and gain leadership skills is said to be out-dated and perpetuating sexism in and of itself.

On a different note, Wellesley seems to have a slight grade deflation policy. In the most recent set of data (2007), Wellesley’s average GPA, on par with Cornell (infamous for its tough grading), was around a 3.31, while Dartmouth’s was around a 3.42 (not exactly inflation, but definitely what one would call “normal,” “fair” grading). As someone who plans to apply to medical school, this is something I should consider but not take too seriously, because Wellesley grads are known to make it into elite grad schools as well.

I should probably do some more in-depth research, including peruse the course catalogs, distribution requirements, etc. Dartmouth does have a weird, but potentially positive structure, with its quarter system and D-Plan, but this isn’t something that I will heavily consider.


I’ve always had a tendency to take people’s words a little too literally. It’s seldom done me any good. For example, I went through a phase of crushing self-realization years ago; it was a time when my self-esteem was practically non-existent and I didn’t know how to go out and face people. As a child, the people who surrounded me called me beautiful. Not just my relatives, but also other grownups who visited us. Strangers on the street would stop and comment on what a pretty little girl I was. And when I flipped through books and magazines and gushed about the beautiful women in the photos, my mother, grandmother, and even father would tell me that none of them were as pretty as me. I thought I was some sort of mystical creature – a creature whose beauty was impossible to surpass. I was the “Snow White” of modern society. I think that part of me really believed all of their words. I thought I was the prettiest little girl in the world – which is not a bad thought to have as a child. But as I entered my pre-teen years, reality hit me. Fifth grade was the first time somebody called me ugly. I was shocked. I brushed it off as jealousy. Gradually, as the months flew by, I became more and more aware of other people’s perceptions of beauty. Finally, one day, someone very honest told me that I was at most average (appearance-wise). And then they continued to point out countless other females who were superior to me in terms of outer appearance. I knew it was superficial, but it felt like defeat. I wasn’t used to not winning. I won all my life – whether it was piano competitions, spelling bees, or academic contests. And up until that moment, I thought I had a victory in the beauty department as well. My ego was basically battered. I suddenly became extremely self-conscious. As I walked the streets, I imagined other people thinking “ugly, mediocre, yuck” as they walked by me. That was one of the lowest lows I had experienced in my life. But it also taught me many things that I was ignorant of prior to that very painful experience. I was such a kid back then. But I still am, so I guess I can’t really judge myself.

Since then, I’ve matured in this area, but I am still very much affected by what those grownups told me as a child. My perception of beauty is still so skewed. I still tend to think very highly of myself at times. But that’s normal, right? To want to feel beautiful? To want to feel adequate compared to others? It doesn’t feel good to be inferior to other people in any way. But one thing that I’ve taken away from all of this is what not to do as a parent. My parents were sweet, to tell me those things. And I guess every parent believes that their child is the most beautiful. But you never know when you’ll encounter a child (like me) who is inclined to take the words of adults much too seriously. It could affect their life and self-esteem years down the road.

After much introspection, I think that my skewed self-perception stems from not only what my parents told me repeatedly as a child, but also from my natural self-awareness and self-importance. Those qualities don’t just translate into perceptions of beauty, but also to other things. I need to learn how to be less focused on myself, and more on the world and people around me. It’s all part of self-improvement!

The Feels

There is this indescribable feeling that overwhelms me when I think about him or see him on social media outlets. It’s not a fond feeling. Rather, it’s the kind of feeling you get when you hear an overplayed song that you used to obsess over – used to. But it’s a strange kind of feeling that makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to think about him without having the urge to make a blog post about it. Will I get that same kind of dull feeling if I were to see him in person? Would I have enough self-confidence to face him with dignity, walk up to him, and look him straight in the eye? It’s a sour kind of feeling mixed in with nostalgia.

I have no desire to be around him. There (for the most part) isn’t anything about him that appeals to me. I don’t know why there ever was. I don’t know whether it was because I used to be shallow or because I used to be desperate. Or whether it was because I used to have a more optimistic outlook. I had expectations, hopes, and daydreams. I was easily impressed by things that, now that I look back, are insignificant, unreal, and ephemeral. I was also blinded – by something. To this day, I have no idea what it is. I can’t put a finger on it. Maybe it had less to do with him than something inside of me that shifted. Also, I think there’s still sand in my eye; maybe that’s why I still even get feelings when he pops into my mind.

Now I look at him, and he represents something different from what he meant to me in the past. He represents a flowchart of qualities, some of which I want to emulate, some of which I never want to be associated with, and some of which I wish to find in a future friend or lover. He’s important to me, just as I’m sure he is to many people (from the looks of it on Facebook). But that kind of importance is the kind people keep to themselves, locked away in a private journal, or blog. He’s an abstract thought. Not something tangible that can make a continuous impact on my life. He appears in certain moments, moments of nostalgia and sometimes sourness.  Moments that can be a bit difficult to describe. Moments that I’d want to document.


After assessing my feelings, I’ve realized that I’ve matured a lot from the person I was four, five years ago. In fact, I’ve matured enough to realize just how immature I still am. At this point, I’m not ready to be in a relationship with another person. I haven’t come to a good balance with my own self to be able to make another person happy; I don’t even know how to make myself happy. If I were to become somebody’s girlfriend, I would be the “baby” in the relationship. The other person who have to expend all of their energy keeping me content and agreeable; it would exhaust them so much that they would want to stay as far away from me as possible. I’m much too insecure and, frankly, unstable to handle anything other than a romantic relationship with myself at the moment.

And also, it’s really weird because I feel like a child who is surrounded by lots of other children. We’re all kids. We still look like kids. We certainly act like kids. Every relationship I witness seems premature. And every relationship I imagine myself to have seems premature. If someone walks up to me and asks me to be their girlfriend, I would probably have trouble keeping a straight face while blurting out, “Wait, are you being serious?” Kids shouldn’t date. Don’t have sex, kids.

I think that the moment I view the world around me as an adult world and, most importantly, myself as a grown woman, that’s when I’ll be ready to even start exploring the idea of relationships. Honestly, I’m not sure when that will happen. Part of me just enjoys being a little girl far too much. Youth, with its innocence, carelessness, and joyfulness, is the utopia of adulthood.

My Personal Issues/Weaknesses


1) Paranoia (not, like, severe or clinical or anything. At least I hope not)
2) Overall distrust for the people around me
3) OCD, clean freak, germaphobe at times
4) Emotional fragility
5) Fear of confrontation; if confronted, I usually have trouble fending for myself
6) A bad habit of biting my fingers
7) Fear of bugs/insects/arachnids
8) Fear of public speaking
9) Trouble expressing myself verbally at times
10) Often forget to think about others and do more kind things to help them


How do I deal with bullies?

I’m not really being bullied; it’s more like, I think I easily fall victim to bullying. I think that there’s just something about me that screams WEAK. And it’s partly because I am. I don’t know how to stand up for myself. I let others dominate the conversation, attack me relentlessly, and then pick me apart. And then I cry in secret, after it hits me how much I was just trampled all over.

I hate crying and self-pitying. I did nothing wrong. Sometimes, I feel like I won’t be able to fend for myself in the real world, and that maybe I’m just going to get hurt over and over again. But I’m not the type with skin that thick; I can’t take the emotional trauma. Ugh, seriously. I need to toughen up.

How can some people find it within themselves to be mean directly to another person? How can they use their mood as an excuse to snap at someone and scream at them, when the other person has done nothing wrong to them? Maybe I’m not used to being around people like that. All my life, my friends have been extraordinarily nice people. Even if they point out my mistakes or say something that I might not like to hear, they say it in a nice tone and word it in a way that I can accept. That’s what my parents have taught me since I was a child. I was to control my temper. Say everything in a gentle, non-aggressive tone.

Those people get under my skin. I let them control my emotions. They’re like parasites that come and invade my body. Literally, I was in such a good mood. I was going to start cramming for a test that I still have yet to finish reviewing for. I had just gotten off the phone with my parents, whose last words left a smile on my face. And now, I can barely hold back the tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.

Sigh. I just hate it. How do I become stronger?

Note to Self

Whenever I’m stuck, don’t ever be afraid to consult my parents.

They’re the ones who will offer me the best, most solid advice because they’re the only people in the world who, without a doubt, have my best interests at heart. I am no longer a child; I’m an adult. It’s childish to keep things from them because, for some reason, I’m afraid that they will be disappointed in me. I’ve learned that, by now, they no longer scold me or lecture me about life lessons. Because frankly, I should have learned all of them by now. When I make a mistake, it’s because I didn’t think over things enough, or because I was careless in the moment. I learn from my mistakes, and I think that they realize that. So whenever I have a dilemma, or am in trouble, I’m going to confide in them knowing that they will do their best to help me come up with a solution.

Mind vs. Heart

I’m really glad that I was able to make it out of the college admissions game in one piece (thank goodness this isn’t the Hunger Games). I didn’t make UT PACT (sigh…), but all hope is not lost. I have some amazing options to choose from (Dartmouth provides the best undergrad education in the whole nation!).

My heart really wants to be somewhere liberating and different. I want to experience the east coast and visit Boston, Philly, D.C.,  and New York. I want to be surrounded by talented, accomplished, fascinating people with big dreams, welcoming hearts, and similar ideals as me. I want to study under world-class faculty committed to making me the best that I can be. Most importantly, I yearn to really grow up as a person. Legally, I may be an adult, but I still feel like a confused teenager. I’m still awkward around guys I find super attractive or super talented. I still don’t really know how to be a real leader. I have yet to develop the kind of charisma that I see Future Me to have. I think that a new place is where I can really flourish.

Yet, the reasonable and logical part of me knows that I should just stay in-state. I should just go to college for free. I should just be around the same old people and do the same things that I’ve been doing all my life. I should just be safe and avoid that kind of risk-taking, the unknown, or, in John Green’s words, “the Great Perhaps.” Because are those experiences really that significant in the grand scheme of things? Will it make me a better doctor ten years from now? Will the people I meet follow me back to Texas, to medical school? Are these things worth $50-60k+?

I’m so conflicted I just want to go to sleep (I actually should though, really soon).


I’ve always had this one friend who I thought I could trust. I told her secrets, knowing that she wouldn’t tell anyone as long as I asked her not to. Today I found out she betrayed my trust (telling someone I absolutely do NOT trust about something very personal). I seriously don’t know if I can trust anyone in this world other than my parents, my brother, and my closest friend. How can I, when reality betrays me every single time.

I feel so lonely now because that friend is just one more person whom I can never, ever tell anything to ever again. Even though she apologized and I forgave her, I’m going to remember this. And next time, I won’t confide in her. If it’s between giving her a second chance and protecting my own interests (and privacy!), I’m choosing the latter.

Happy, Scared, Indecisive

Dartmouth College

I just got accepted to Dartmouth College (part of my original list of dream schools: UPenn, UChicago, Wellesley, Dartmouth) and Cornell University! It’s a bit surreal. Just Monday, I got my rejection from Rice University, which is ranked lower than both of those schools, so I thought I was doomed for mass rejections! It turns out my rotten Rice essay had a bigger impact than I thought…

I guess I’m ivy-material after all (got rejected from Duke, though, but it’s surprisingly painless). I just feel really blessed. All my (and my parents’) hard work paid off. My financial aid package from Dartmouth is also surprisingly good (better than Wellesley).

Now I just have to wait for UT-PACT (eh)! I have options already though. Among the private schools, it’s pretty much down to Dartmouth vs. Wellesley now (probably Dartmouth, for financial reasons, although it’s only cheaper by a couple thousand). I have to make decisions… heh.

(Assuming I don’t make PACT…) Do I want to pay $50k more for an ivy-league (or ivy-level) education? Or do I go to UTD without having to contribute a dime and then onto UT Southwestern? My heart says the former, but my brain (whose math skills are surprisingly quick) is not so certain.

I’m just happy I’ve been given these opportunities though! :)


Sore Wrists

I had a very productive morning. I woke up at 9:30 and had breakfast while reading The Bell Jar (finished one chapter lol). And then I went to the practice rooms and seriously went all out on the piano. During my Mozart sonata, there was one part with a really fast right-hand part accompanied by a complicated left-hand part that I kept messing up on. I must have repeated those 10 measures at least 5 dozen times. By the time I finally perfected them, I took my hands off of the keyboard and realized that they were extremely sore. I didn’t feel it while I was playing, but as soon I changed positions, MAN THE BURN! I should take it easy with the repeating measures nonstop next time, haha. It feels good, though, to know that I accomplished at least one thing during my practice session: perfect those ten hard bars.

Every time I listen to this piece I’m completely blown away! Listen to parts 2 and 3 for more pure spectacular amazingness!!!


I really need to learn to control my emotions. Today, little things built up to result in my current very bad mood. After this week of busyness, I’m going to seriously start working on my spiritual health – which includes meditation, exercise, music, and reading (hopefully). I seriously can’t wait for tomorrow to be over. By the way, is it normal to burp around 3 times every 5 minutes? (Talking about my roommate -.-)


I want my future boyfriend to be the type who understands my physical and emotional needs, and who does little things to show that he cares.

Some time ago, my friend and I were studying together in Mac cafe, and it was pretty late at night – getting close to 1 am. We were studying and chatting, and then suddenly her boyfriend came in, gave her a kiss on the head, and handed her  a Jimmy John’s sandwich, half of which she then gave to me. I was suddenly so envious of her relationship. I thought, “Wow. I want a boyfriend who does that, who keeps my stomach satisfied  (which is not an easy thing to do), who thinks of me when he orders Jimmy John’s.”

Since then, I’ve consistently noticed how great of a boyfriend (and person) he is. Not only is he extremely sweet to my friend, he’s just a very nice person all around. Two weeks ago, he even woke up earlier than usual on a Saturday to pick up my prom dress for me. I’m not saying I like him or anything, god no. He is not my type (boyfriend-wise). Plus, he’s taken? But I’m glad he’s my friend, and he’s made me realize some important qualities that I want in my future boyfriend.

It’s not enough just to be sweet and considerate, in my opinion. There’s a good balance between overbearing and apathetic. I think a big part is how well two people click, and their mutual understanding. It’s intuition; it’s chemistry.

Health Update 1

This is the first of many (hopefully) updates on the state of my physical and mental health. I think that writing these updates and acknowledging these issues is a great way to force myself to be healthy. These past few days, I’ve also identified a few trouble spots that I need to really focus on getting past. Note: This is not a “get skinny” series. Being healthy is all I want, whether emotionally or bodily. (I also want to have clear skin, but I think that’s also part of health, not necessarily beauty.)

Skin: I have been good about my regime. I followed what I wrote in my last post, “Skin Health” (for the most part), although I do need to pay more attention to not touching my skin. I think there’s definitely improvement – I don’t have any major pimples, maybe a couple of teeny tiny ones that are insignificant anyway. However, I do have these random itchy (not bumpy) spots that become hives if I scratch them too hard… not sure what’s up with that. I guess I just need to not scratch. I still have blackheads and hyperpigmentation (those things don’t just disappear overnight).

Hygiene: I’ve been flossing daily and showering daily. I’m planning on spacing two whole days before hair washes. I think I’ve been very good in this area!

Sleep: Meh… As good as possible at school. Still have a bit of trouble falling asleep, and I still wake up randomly before I’m supposed to. :( Hopefully I’ll do better when I go home this weekend.

Body: Okay, I did not work out at all (well, it’s only been two days. But those were my best opportunities – I’m going to be insanely busy the rest of this week). I have, however,  been pretty active (as usual) – I’ve done quite a lot of walking. I noticed, however, that my black skinny jeans have become tighter, and my upper arm area (where my “triceps” are supposed to be LOL) is very flabby. Obvious trouble spots: arms and legs.

Diet: Not so great. I’ve been eating pretty healthy (could be healthier), but I’ve been eating a lot. I’ve been actively trying to eat a good amount, but I just seem to need SO much food! Not good…

Mind: It’s alright, I guess. I’ve been in a good mood a lot, but I think my mental state is heavily affected by my physical state (sleep especially). Also, I just desperately want to get out of here!

Additional Goals:

  1. Start shrinking my appetite (and stomach) by forcing smaller portions during meals!
  2. If I don’t have to go to the gym for cardio, etc, do some lunges, squats, and push-ups really quickly in the morning!
  3. Remember to put my pillow case in the wash before I go home on Friday!

Genocide vs. A Woman’s Choice

There was a group of crazy, extremist college students outside Sage Hall today advocating for making abortion illegal, even comparing it to genocide.


Personally, I’m pro-choice. As long as the mother isn’t like 6 months into her pregnancy already… But I respect everyone who believes that abortion is murder. It’s a touchy subject. But to compare getting an abortion to genocide is kind of a huge hyperbole…


Everyone is obsessed with something – a lot of time the same thing. I think lately it’s photography. It seems like every adolescent I know is some combination of a hipster and a photographer (anyone can rock photos with a solid DSLR). It used to be the guitar, then the ukulele. And all girls will always be obsessed with their weight and eating less and looking pretty for the guys. I was once obsessed with all of these things, being a hipster included.

Until I realized that the guitar is one of the easiest instruments to learn (and even more so the uke), that I should be proud of my mad piano and/or viola skills. That traveling to the beautiful places in photographs and breathing in magnificence with my naked eyes are much  more appealing than carrying a heavy camera around to take photos. That I didn’t care what guys thought, and guys probably don’t even notice whether I have a thigh gap anyway! And that being a hipster is way too much effort; having class is somehow easier.

Pop culture has glamorized many things with or without reason. And I’ve learned to admire people who don’t ever follow the crowd when it comes to trends, yet still stay so wonderfully fantastic. When I’m occasionally lucky enough to be called a friend by one of those people, I do my best to figure out what their secret to being so damned cool is.

Regardless of whether there actually is a “secret,” I think a big part of it is just to be comfortable with the unique person that I am. And to do me as well as I can. I will never want to be like someone else, because that’s a waste of my own existence! (Is that a quote from somewhere?) I’m going to embrace the Descartian method. “I think, therefore I am.”

I’m going to wipe clean everything that I know about what it means to live. And start over. From the basics. And search deep for what I truly want. And then set the boundaries for my life. And become obsessed with a list of things that is truly, uniquely me.

Stunning Time-Lapse Video Shows Rare Views of Yosemite

Explore the night sky in Yosemite National Park from the top of Echo Ridge—all in the first eight seconds of the video.

California-based photographers Colin Delehanty and Sheldon Neill spent more than ten months backpacking across Yosemite National Park to create this stunning five-minute time-lapse video of the park in all four seasons.


It’s been pouring rain outside for the past two hours. I normally love the rain, but tonight I find it extremely annoying.

I don’t know why I can’t just be one of those people who is able to find joy in the littlest things. When they’re bored, they can entertain themselves and they’ll have a ball. I’m not like that. I think I’m a thrill-seeker, but I’m also scared for my life. It’s akin to the way the Underground Man feels in Dostoyevsky’s novel. It’s pathetic. 

I think I’m just in a very bad mood. My brother, whom I normally find to be adorable, has been nagging me the entire day! And my dad doesn’t seem to care. I’m not the parent! You’re the parent! You’re the one who should be dealing with him! He has literally turned my room upside down. MESSES IRK ME SO MUCH! MESSES CAN RUIN MY MOOD IMMEDIATELY. And he won’t listen to me. I have to repeat myself so many times and I’m so annoyed! I feel like I’m his freaking mother. I feel like I have to discipline him and I am SO not ready to take on that kind of stress. But here I am – taking it on. I have things to do. I have a test to cram for!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s hard to convey emotion properly in a text post.

I need to find Clarity. (Yes, I just capitalized it as if it’s a person. I think people do that sometimes. Like, in the Declaration of Independence, I think Jefferson wrote, “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.”) I need to be fixed. I need to find my inner light and roll with it. In New Girl, Jess isn’t the smartest or prettiest. She’s not all that. But she rocks what she’s got, and I seriously need to start doing that. Happiness and being comfortable in my own skin, in my own bubble, is as simple as that, right?

Sigh. Clarity.

Associated With Greatness – Now and Forever

I was just being diligent for the first time this entire spring break and studying for the upcoming physics exam. Sadly, capacitance and dielectrics just aren’t that captivating to me.  So then I decided to check Facebook and saw that three girls from my school got accepted to MIT (the girls are really rocking it this year! I don’t think any guys made it. That’s good, I guess…).

And here I was just now being completely indifferent to my UChicago waitlist. And having a discussion with my dad about seriously considering UTD. I don’t want to be that girl. That girl who was at the top of her class in high school only to end up at a school notorious for accepting underachievers. Not that UTD isn’t an increasingly awesome school right now, what with all those McDermott Scholars and UT-PACT-ers. But I’m not a McDermott Scholar – I got rejected. And I really think that my chances of getting into PACT are extremely, extremely, extremely slim. I even declined the Honors College interview. Most likely, I would just be another plain Jane attending a plain university.

I mean, I’d like to think that I’m being smart about my choices. I’m not chasing prestige here, like many people at my school. I got into other wonderful schools (yes, they are wonderful in their own rights). But UTD just might be more practical for my career goals. Which then leads to the question: What are my career goals? My parents seem to be more certain than I am. At UTD, I would be so, so stuck on one, albeit it being a great career. I’m not so sure about it though. I don’t want to make the wrong choice. I want to create a life of greatness. I want to buy my parents houses, and send my brother to prep school with the knowledge I have now that I didn’t have when I was his age. I want the absolute best for everyone that I love. When I look into the future, I don’t see luxury, necessarily; I see comfort, and happiness. I don’t have to be filthy rich, but money is just one less thing that I’ll have to worry about. And with the changes that are happening right now… I’m just not so sure anymore.

Regardless, I want to be associated with greatness. Now and forever. I love the idea of living in a college town in New England, studying hard for an exam with all open-ended answers, and connecting with world-class faculty. It might be harder, and pricier, and more time-consuming. But is it worth it in the end? Will I have become a newer, bolder, stronger person? I don’t want to be one of those dreamers who chase after a school’s brand name only to realize that it’s no different from your average public university, that their expectations were far from being met.

For once, I just want to be part of that group of people who, when people look at them immediately think, “Wow, that person is going to be so, so successful in the future.” Sure, in my mind, I will achieve great things. But I don’t think that right now, I’m in that group full of the absolute best. I want to be the best. I want to be at the top. So badly. And I don’t think that I can be at the top at a school like UTD (unless I get PACT, in which case this entire post becomes invalid), where there will be a select few extremely bright, extremely talented, extremely accomplished people, be they McDermott Scholars or PACT-ers.

I don’t know. It’s complicated. I’m still deciding. But – I guess I just don’t want to be waitlisted anymore. I want to be accepted at an amazing school. If only so that I can feel like I’m one of the best, part of that teeny tiny point at the very top of the pyramid.

This post is not organized at all… I have to go eat dinner now.

Breaking Free

So, I got waitlisted…again. Well, I guess Chicago and I weren’t meant to be. It’s too cold up there anyway. I much prefer my New England climate. :) I’ve decided to accept all my waitlists because… why not? I don’t lose anything from doing that. And even if I miraculously hear back from one of these schools in the middle of summer, that’s one more ego boost! At least that’s how I’m choosing to look at it.

I am totally dreading the end of Spring Break. At least I know that I’ll be able to come home next weekend because I switched my volunteering commitment!  No more of those agonizing, sleepless weekends at school.

On a slightly more upbeat note, I’ve gotten really into New Girl. I watched the first two episodes a long time ago, but quit because I thought it was too juvenile. But it’s actually hilarious! Maybe I’m just bored and have nothing better to watch…