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Stories

It’s currently past midnight during finals week and I’m pondering life as I attempt to write a paper to accompany an English project. I mentioned it earlier, but my project is on the significance of stories. I wanted to share the anecdote I wrote for the project because I feel it really represents who I am and what I do-and maybe this is part of why I blog. It offers a different view into my life and shows a little slice of writing that is quite different from blogging.

I love to tell stories; it is who I am. There is something amazingly satisfying about making someone laugh, turning the mundane into the absurd, turning nothing but free-floating thoughts into a cohesive entity. I love weaving together morsels from here or there, the threads of stories that are either my own or repurposed from another source. I used to fear the loss of stories—I embarked on a project of taking a selfie a day for a year simply so that each day I had a compact memory, a story I could not lose to the abyss of time. Then, I realized that my stories make me up—they stand alone and cannot be lost as long as they are told. So I continue to tell my stories to anyone and everyone who will lend an ear. I tell of my adventure of nearby getting caught on a giant lightning rod (a sailboat) during a colossal thunderstorm, of my dad climbing out the fifth floor of his college dorm on a rope—just to see if he could—and then getting stuck halfway down, of the night I stayed up to watch the sunrise just because I could, but was too afraid of heights to climb up on the roof to see it. I tell of the most interesting case I have seen from my summer job at a vet (a dog under the influence of marijuana), of the latest trouble my puppy has caused, of the exploits that have to be censored for certain audiences. I tell of the dead squirrel that prompted a major shift in my future career, of 6am wake up calls to prank a friend, of staying up late and only sleeping two hours to wake up early to exercise because my sleep-deprived mind was incapable of the thought process necessary to determine I should sleep in. These stories are my own, but by telling them I share them and they can become someone else’s to own, to recycle, to stitch together to create something new. They gain a life of their own, independent of mine—a life that may be longer than my own.

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Coming Full Circle

This weekend is bittersweet for me. It’s Homecoming weekend, which means campus is flooded with alums. But this year is different for me. In a year, I’ll be one of them.

For many years, I’ve had my list of top fears well-defined.

  1. Puke
  2. Drowning
  3. Scorpions
  4. Hair

My roommate even knows the pitch of my squeal when I see a ball of hair on the floor. Those were my fears. Now, I’m coming to terms with a new fear-the passage of time. I fear the passage of time-or more specifically, wasted time. Seeing alums wheeling into their 50th reunion makes age more solidified for me-that’s me one day. Many of these alums seem so happy-they show up carting around children and spouses, pointing out their old stomping stomping grounds. Will I have that one day? Right now the future is just an empty space for me-I have plans but I have no idea what my life will really be like. Will I be happy? I feel so happy here right now. I feel like Stanford is truly the best place to be. What will the future hold?

More than the passage of time, I fear the loss of friends. Of stories and memories fading away as the clock ticks onwards. We relive the past through our stories. We relive happiness, excitement, fear. I love telling stories, and I love recalling memories. Stories are a snapshot of a particular time; they are our time capsules to the past, and they keep us connected to who we are and who we were. Even more than telling stories, I love making stories. Having adventures that I can talk and laugh about years from now. Sometimes I worry that I’m too caught up in the past, but in reality, this is my way of staying connected and grounded as things change. In one year, my life is going to be completely different than it’s ever been. Saying goodbye before college was hard, but I think saying goodbye after college is worse. It’s not that I’m not excited for what the future has in store, but in high school, I feel like I was constantly biding my time for high school. Now, I’m realizing I can’t keep just trying to push through until I’ve accomplished my career goals to live. Time passes. If I fast forward my life to post-grad school, then all I do is lose years. I have to live NOW because there’s always going to be a next thing to look toward, and I can’t keep waiting until the next thing because before I know it I’ll be rolling up to my 50th reunion and wondering where the years have gone.

I’m doing my best to enjoy my last year here to the utmost degree. At the same time, I feel like everything is coming full circle. Things, people, and feelings from freshman year keep popping up. As a freshman, I never once thought the whole college thing would end. I was just getting started! 4 years was forever. Yet here I am.

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(Santa Run 2012-what a baby! I wish I had taken more pictures then…)

Looking back on it, I could not have asked for more out of my freshman year. At the time it was difficult-sleep deprivation, intense academics, D1 college sport, making new friends, mono. I came in with such an eagerness to be there that I feel like faded as I got beaten down. But out of freshman year, I got countless memories and lifelong friends. As I said, it was hard at the time but looking back, it was exactly what I needed.

Sophomore year was very rough. I learned the hard way what it meant to be doing a difficult major at one of the top science schools in the country. I did not like it here then. I was drowning. I seriously contemplated whether I should transfer. I was lost-I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t know if I was in the right place. But as I’ve always said, the best part about Stanford is the people, and my friends carried me through.

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Despite the difficult academics, I did make some awesome memories that I will carry with me. I also felt more grounded than freshman year. I had a solid group of friends so I didn’t have the constant pressure of trying to make friends that comes with freshman year.

Junior year was good-a solid year but somewhat lonely as a lot of people I knew went abroad. I spent more time alone, but I think I found myself a little more, especially with figuring out my life. Far fewer quarter-life crises.

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Halloween 2014 was possibly one of the best days of my life.

And now. Senior year. I feel like there’s so much left to do, and I have the eagerness of a freshman. I can’t wait to make more memories with these amazing people.

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