the lost thing .

Improvement is the key.

—————-

Lysacek won! Yes! Takahashi got a medal! Yes! Patrick Chan, you’re going to win the gold in the next Olympic! I know it!

—————-

But why does life feel so desolate at this moment in time?

Just this morning, perched on the fence of my backyard, a bird proclaimed that it was the month of love.

I’ve never heard such a beautiful sound in a long while.

Happy Lunar New Year!

I hope you all had wonderful lunar new year celebrations. Me, it’s difficult because I live only with my mom in this house, with my brothers off in LA.

I really do miss my times in Korea. Back then, I didn’t appreciate our celebrations, which included about 2 hours of sitting silently on my knees. I only focused on that, and never the beauty and joy of “meeting” my ancestors. Now I understand that, and I vow that when I return to Korea after my education, I’ll see to it that I give Seol (Korean name for the Lunar New Year) the special attention that I never gave before.

Dammit.

Three words about college now that I have received my SAT2 scores:

I’m royally screwed.

It’s been a long while.

I have a half year left until college applications must be submitted. It’s terrifying how fast time flies. I can remember clearly my first day in high school, lugging around all my textbooks in a tacky, flower-printed bag because I was afraid all my teacher would make us open our textbooks. In fact, I can remember all the way back to the day when I stepped off the plane from Korea at LAX, stepping off and landing on American soil for what I felt would be a crisp new page in my life. Stepping off into a place where none of my past would hinder me.

I’ve realized many things since then—I’ve come farther since then. I was naive, idealistic, and perhaps a tad bit depressed. I’ve learned in the past three years that the past doesn’t become unstuck, even after a 13-hour flight at ridiculous speeds, above the clouds and in the freezing atmosphere. I’ve learned that the grass isn’t greener on the other side of the fence. I’ve learned that pancakes and waffles with whipped cream become sickening after the first month. I’ve learned that somehow, despite my desire to Americanize myself, I’ve become infinitely more Asian and that I’m proud of it.

I’ve also learned that no matter how much I try to drill into myself a “better” version of me—talkative, fashionable, energetic, pimple-less and without that hyena laugh of mine that’s been plaguing me since my date of birth—I’ll still be retain 99% of who I really am. Naive, check. Idealistic, check check. Pimples, sadly, check. Depressed and self-centered, now that’s the 1% of me that I have gladly peeled away from myself. My favorite color is no longer blue, but yellow. I laugh every day, and I have started to enjoy everything that I had shunned in the past in my effort to become more grown-up. I’ve learned that grown-up does not equal being serious, watching movies whose color scheme is most entirely black and blue, and being out of the teenage loop. Instead, grown-up consists of maturity, level-headedness, knowing your strengths and weaknesses, knowing when to back down and when to put your best foot out and not lose your stride.

Okay, so I admit: I don’t really know life, since 2/3 of my time here has consisted of me being glued in front of the computer—not because I’m playing games, but because I’m furiously typing outlines and studying with friends late into the night in Gmail chat. And no matter how much I complain about my high school’s academic rigor and the unfairness and exploitative nature of the IB program (the money, the money!), partly because of my own bitterness, it has taught me so many things that I could otherwise never have learned back in Korea.

First of all, it taught me my initial limits. Then it taught me how to break them and reach new potentials. It goes all the way back to Geometry honors, back when I was a petite little freshman—I’m a little less petite now—as I struggled in Mr. K’s class. Proofs always bothered me. Indeed, anything to do with mathematical or spatial abilities virtually crippled me, and still does. At first, I took blow after blow as I struggled with his tests. Then my first D on a test came out of his class. It was a sharp slap in the face, and I collected myself before I fell any deeper into the slippery pit of despair. I went in at lunch, carefully, and asked for extra problems to solve.

What became a dreary but necessary form of repetitive exercises eventually became a valuable lesson, as I raised my C to a B in the course of one quarter and became closely acquainted with Mr. K. I fostered a friendship with a teacher that would become a valuable mentor and a parter of warm encouragements who would tell me to pursue my passions in a path that was suited for me. I also learned that ceilings can be broken with dedication and focus. Maybe in different time lengths, because in sophomore year I ended up dropping down to regular maths and sciences. At first that seemed to affirm my worst fears, that determination was in fact not enough to eclipse talent and natural intellect. Determination and focus are my greatest strengths, greater than wit or agility of the brain, and that defeat was a blow to my pride and self-esteem. But I was proved wrong a year later—this year—when I flourished. My subpar 4.44 GPA was greeted with a proud 4.71.

To some, it may show that I had “cheated” my way through to getting a higher GPA than those that worked far harder than I and gotten lower grades. I think otherwise. It shows that I had made the right decision. I had known when to back down and when to put my best foot forward.

That is the most valuable lesson that I could have ever learned.