Category — Site Authors

On August 27^th 2010, for the first time in my life I would be separated from my twin sister, Sarah, for a longer amount of time than either of us had ever experienced, she would dorm at the University of Connecticut, while I would stay home and attend Baruch in the city. For as long as I can remember we were together. We had surgery together, we took the SAT’s together, and when our mom and dad got divorced we were together.

Going to different colleges, however, was not the first time we had been torn apart. It seems that as we have gotten older we have begun to spend less and less time together, developing our own interests and making our own friends. For the first years of our life we went to thesame preschool, elementary and middle school together, sharing the same friends and doing almost everything together, but when it came timeto choose a high school we went our separate ways for the first time.  I decided that I wanted to go to Bronx Science, while she had always wanted to go to St. Francis Preparatory School. At this point, anyone who knows anything about high schools in NYC should be thinking, how could a pair of twins end up going to such different schools? For anyone that has never heard of these two big schools, Bronx Science is known for being one of the seven specialized public high schools in NYC, while St. Francis Prep has more of a reputation for being the largest catholic high school in the United States and having one of the most active and social student bodies of any high school in NYC.

The reason we went to such different high schools was because, as it turns out, even though we are twins, we are also two very different and unique individuals. In fact, many who have met us both, including many life long friends, have told us that we are the closest examples of polar opposites that they have ever seen. While I never considered myself to be a social outcast, and my sister was always an Astudent, the parts of our personalities that dominated us were always very different. While my sister spent her weekends going to parties and having a social life, I spent most of my free nights watching movies and playing video games.  In fact, the only reason I probably got to go to any awesome high school parties was because my sister invited me to them. Without her I’d never have experienced what a lot of people consider to be an important part of adolescence.

Even though we had our fights and we didn’t always agree with each other we had remained close throughout high school. We had always spent time together, despite our differences. I even like to think that because of our differences we were both able to shape each other in different ways, which would have been impossible if we were boring and identical.

It has been exactly one month now since she has gone away to college. I try to pretend that I don’t miss her, but its hard not to. I try not to think about it so much, but I can’t help it. I can’t help asking questions, now that she’s gone, whose going to get me into awesome college parties, who am I supposed to hang out with during family gatherings, whose going to drive me to Starbucks when I want to get a Chai Tea Latte, and most importantly, whose always going to be there to understand me when I fall down or things get hard?

Eight years ago, when I was in fifth grade, I was in the library searching for a book to read. I picked up a thick, heavy book; the title of which I cannot recall. What had drawn me to the book was the pictures of animals on the cover. I had recently decided that I wanted to become a veterinarian and figured that reading this book would be a great start. When I got home and started paging through the chapters, I was shocked by what I saw. Instead of the cute pictures of cats and dogs that I had been expecting, the first image I encountered was that of a bloody calf being dragged into a slaughterhouse. As I read through the book, the stories and pictures got worse and worse. I wanted to stop but somehow I was pulled into this horrible, foreign world. What struck me the hardest was the section on slaughterhouses. I had been eating meat my whole life and had never stopped to consider where it really came from. Those hot dogs I loved to get in Central Park were actually made from pigs, the charming, social creatures that I used to love to visit down the road from my grandpa’s house. From that moment on I was a vegetarian. This book did more than just change my eating habits. It took away some of my childhood innocence. I hadn’t realized up to that point how cruel humans could be. I did not understand how, in a country like the United States, where a dog is often valued as a member of the family, such horrendous treatment of animals could be allowed. This book encouraged me to become involved in the animal rights movement. It has led me to great experiences, from volunteering at the animal shelter to running the Students Against Animal Cruelty club in my school. Though I am no longer positive I want to become a veterinarian, I know that I definitely want some kind of career working with animals in my future.

“So I guess you’ve grown taller? Did you change?”

Over the phone, I could hear my best friend’s funny giggles.
“Change? What do you mean by that?” I teased her.

“I mean did your face get changed as you grew up?”

“Nope, not really. This is just same old I.” Even before I finished my sentence, she was laughing – out very loud. Yae Seul, my best friend whom I have known for more than 15 years, was absolutely enjoying this conversation.

“I mean it has been almost 3 years that you didn’t come back to Korea. Shouldn’t there be at least some change?”

Her question was both yes and no. Yes, my personality definitely has changed over the course of years I spent in American high school. However, my physical appearance, especially my face, did not change that much.

When we finally met each other, her hysterical laughs followed us the whole time. “Wow, your face hasn’t changed at all! You just look like the same Renee three years ago.” I couldn’t figure out whether that was a good or bad thing.

A day passed by like an hour with her. We were talking non-stop for hours about everything: our shared memories of the past, our own lives and the future.

Before we said Good Bye, Yae seul said, “Renee, actually you’ve changed. You became colorful.” Colorful? What’s behind that this time? With a sweet smile, Yae seul hugged me who was miserably puzzled in the middle of the busy street. “Your physical appearance didn’t change. However, I can see that you’re adding some interesting colors to your personality.”

“You’re colorful.” I never heard this kind of compliment before. However, that was definitely one of favorite compliments that I’ve ever heard in my life.  I joked her that I’ll be a “colorfull” person next time. It is sincerely one of the hardest promises to keep.

It felt as though a rock was blocking my windpipe. I gasped for air as the sweltering summer afternoon showed us its wrath.  It was so hot that you could fry an egg on the concrete. “I can’t play anymore,” my cousin blurted out, as he stood hunched over in the deserted Cedar Grove Playground.  My cousin had brought me to the park to play basketball, and although he was much older than me, I had told him I wouldn’t leave until I beat him.  After my fourth straight loss, I considered giving in, but decided to play one more. He snickered and told me that we were going to make it a short one.  In the fifth game I played with gusto, and I made the right decisions, leading myself to victory. Although I won, I wasn’t satisfied because I felt that he let me win; I’d rather have lost, than have him hand me a win.

A couple of years later, as I sat outside of the conference room, waiting to be called to make a pitch for the creation of the Socioeconomic Sports Club, I kept thinking of the games against my cousin.   To a certain degree it was like a déjà vu experience.  I had failed several times in achieving the desired result in both situations.  This was going to be my third pitch to the student government and faculty members, regarding the creation of the Socioeconomic Sports Club.  As I walked into the conference room, I remembered that just last month, a mere two people out of this same group were in support for the foundation of my proposed club. “Why even bother to present, they’re going to reject it anyways?” I thought to myself.   Thoughts like this raced uncontrollably in my head, but I maintained my composure and presented.

In my presentation, I covered all the concerns that the skeptics had previously brought up, such as having an educational purpose to the club.  I had created a vibrant and informative PowerPoint relating the impact of steroids on Major League Baseball, covering aspects such as inflated statistics, game attendance, and impact on revenue.  After the presentation, I surveyed the room, and I felt an aura of satisfaction amongst the judges.  My proposed club was passed on a close eight to seven vote.

“ I just wanted to let you know that I admire your persistence, and that is a reason why I’m voting for the formation of this Sports Club,” said the principal, Mr. Bonamo as I was leaving.

I was happy that the club had been approved, but my satisfaction vanished, as I felt that the only reason he passed my club was because of the fact that I was showing up every month for the meetings.  Later that day I called my cousin to tell him about what the principal had said.  He quickly downplayed my belief, saying that it wasn’t the case.

“Today made me feel like the time you let me beat you in basketball” I told my cousin. “ I mean, I achieved my goal, but I feel as if it was handed to me.”

“What?!” he hollered over the phone.  “I would never let you win. You won fair and square.  Just because you are persistent, doesn’t mean people give in to you.  Your persistence is serving you well; in basketball you played smarter and smarter each game until you beat me, and I’m sure you did the same with each presentation.  Have some confidence in your abilities, because there is no way someone will give in to you.  Your effort will improve your capabilities.”

Ever since that conversation, I’ve become more confident in my persistent nature, because I know it will help me improve in every facet, including sports and education.   While serving as president of this club, I became a better leader, and also became a better organizer.  Also through the club, I’ve discovered that due to my passion and extensive knowledge of sports, and the business that surrounds it, my ultimate career goal is to indulge in the sports business world.  One day I hope to be a general manager of a professional sports franchise, and I know that if I remain determined, and believe in my abilities and effort, one day I might just be known as a GM.

In the fall of my sophomore year, I forgot who I was.

My personality traits, what I liked, what I disliked, my goals; everything disappeared into a gaping black hole called depression. I stopped dreaming. I stopped speaking. I want to say I stopped thinking, because no matter how hard I try, I cannot remember any of my thoughts during the time. All I remember is a distinct feeling of existing on the very edge of life, completely separated from the rest of the world.

Around the time that I finally reached out for help, I also, for a reason I cannot remember, began exploring Japanese culture. I was fascinated by everything about Japan. My friends thought I was crazy, but they were so relieved to see me happy again. And Japan did make me happy.  Every new thing I learned seemed to suck more negative energy away from me. I began studying Japanese, and taught myself two of three alphabets in two weeks. I was like a child in the stage of fast mapping, sucking in information at a great rate with the ability to remember it all. I was proud of myself, something I had not been in years.

In the spring of my sophomore year, I knew who I was. I was a girl who was absolutely fascinated by Japanese culture, was learning the language at an extraordinary rate, and wanted to live out her life in Japan. This has not changed. Every aspect of Japan continues to fascinate me and make me happy. How could it not? Japan was like the light at the end of a dark tunnel that I never thought I would escape. It brought me back into the world again.

I know how strange it seems that what, I feel, saved me is an intangible thing: a country and its culture. Honestly, I question my sanity daily. But if I had not, by some inexplicable force, been drawn to Japan, I have no idea where or who I would be. It is like my mind decided to entirely rewire itself. A renewal. A rebirth. And at the same time I came back to life, I found Japan. I found myself. And I am happy.

“A tornado just hit Flushing…everything is in ruins!” This was the face book post that popped out on my wall as I sat at the Flushing library quietly doing my homework. As usual I put on my headphones and commenced my ritual of listening to music while I did homework. Everyone seemed pretty excited when the rain started pouring down but I ignored it, I mean it is just rain. Five minutes into my homework and everyone’s cell phone started going off. People are certainly popular today I thought, I wondered why no one was calling me however. Feeling at an all time low I slowly waddled out the door of the library and noticed that the rain had stopped to a drizzle. I felt calm and serene much like how a person would feel if they were to fall asleep with the sun bathing on their faces. I got on the bus and thought to myself today is a nice day to just relax.

“Why is there a broken tree on top of that house? And why are all the trees uprooted and wires broken?” These were the words I thought as I stood on my block staring at my neighbor’s house. I quickly ran to my friend’s house that lived a block away to check if he was okay. He was outside also staring at a house that was demolished by a large tree. We both stood side by side dumbfounded as water slowly made its trek down our faces replacing what should have been a sweat drop. It was at that moment that I realized anything could happen and that I was not as safe as I originally had thought. Someone just took a needle and popped the balloon I was living in. All of a sudden I felt a shock of anxiety and realized that I take many things for granted: my life, my family, my friends, school, and just life in general. At that moment I swear that I felt the sun poke its eyes out for a split second during the night; a ray illuminated a path to enlightenment. I looked at the dilapidated house and noticed the smell of the moist air and the pointy hedgehog limbs of the tree. It could have been me caught in this tornado and anything can happen. Many people live in a state of false security believing that nothing can happen to their lives; however, that is not true. It is an agreed upon consensus that it is virtually impossible for New York to get hit by high velocity winds that is comparable to a tornado. And I had believed this. It is wrong to believe that nothing will happen because anything can happen. I stayed out that night to see the extent of the damage and learned something new with every block I traveled on.

When I got home I sat on the computer and felt like a new person. Many of my thoughts were new as I read different articles on line. Today I finally grew up and was content that I had finally made the transformation. Right before I decided to call it a night I saw on my wall “A tornado just hit Flushing…everything is in ruins!” I smiled and I said to myself at least today my life is finally not in ruins.

I learned the rules of table tennis when I was about six years old. My dad would always offer to play easy, but this offer was always paired with a reminder that if he played easy I’d never improve. My response was always a quiet smile and steadfast “no thanks.”

As I improved I began to mirror his teaching style. Now for any opponent I’ll offer to shift down a level and their answer usually provides a relatively sound character sketch and game prognosis. A mischievous smile tells me my opponent isn’t in it for the game, he or she is showing off for a friend or just indulging my hunger for a match. The player’s head is somewhere else, an easy win but not a worthwhile game. A conceited response along the lines of “Only if you want to…” (emphasis on the want) shows the person’s obsession with image and that he or she has a bit too much belief in their own ability and intelligence. The player is a nuisance. Indecisiveness leads to empty arguments and inevitably bitter conclusions. You win the game but that person is going to guilt you into feeling like a cheater, and you’re not a cheater. Then there is the swift corner grin and two-word response of “no thanks”. A worthy adversary, the game will be brutal and you may not even win.

It’s called a match for a reason; you’re supposed to play people who are at an equivalent level. If you’re not, then you should play just as hard to bring them up to your standards. If you go easy then you too are sending a message, a message that the status quo is just hunky-dory. The status quo is rarely hunky-dory. There’s a reason that the word change is so closely associated with the world. We have changed, are changing and will change. If we don’t, we’re doomed to indefinitely remaining stationed as the loser. No one wants to be the loser, but overcoming the forces that prevent everyone from being victorious takes effort, which not everyone is willing to put in.

My dad hasn’t beaten me in a few years. We play good games; long, trying, but I always end up with the win. Dad never frowns when he loses for the forth time in a row; instead he radiates happiness. This level of delight is only attainable by a person who recognizes the beneficial significance of their failure. I suppose for every tired winner there is a happy loser. When I eventually grow drowsy I can only anticipate the void of happiness soon to be sealed. I will gladly pass on the paddle when the time arrives, but I’m not tired yet.

Christmastime, 2007. It was the first time I was going to visit my relatives who lived in Taiwan. I had only been out of the country to Cancun, Mexico, and I was at a nice resort where everything was high class and I was shielded from the impoverished areas of Mexico. When I went to Taiwan, I was expecting the same thing when I went to my aunt’s home in Kaoshiung, Taiwan. However, on the drive from the airport to my aunt’s home, all I saw were trees, trees, and more trees.

I am used to urban areas, not the countryside. Little did I know that I was being thrown into the poor area of Taiwan. When I arrived at my aunt’s home, I was in shock. Her neighborhood was full of overgrown weeds, peddlers on the street, and stray dogs wandering around every now and then. The exterior of her home was old-fashioned, made of stone walls and having metal fencing to protect the windows. When I entered, it looked like a decent home, but it was nowhere near the comforts of my home. My aunt had strict rules: conserve the clothes you wear because we conserve water and don’t use the washing machine too often, don’t take showers more than ten minutes long, and lights out by 10PM. I hated these strict rules in her home, but as time went on, I grew to understand why she was so conservative.

We went to different points of interest in Taiwan, and occasionally wandered through poor towns. We passed by a temple where I saw many people just sitting on the floor, some missing limbs, while others looked emaciated. I saw now why my aunt was being so conservative: she wanted to be as efficient as she could in the way she lived her life. I realized now that I take so much for granted living in New York, and that I have it so good compared to my aunt, as well as other people who live in underdeveloped areas in the world. The longer I stayed in Taiwan, the more I grew to love my heritage. Featured above is a picture of my family eating at one of the road stands where they sell fried tofu. I know I’m not the focal point of the image, and the rest of my family is in here, but I wanted to emphasize how much I appreciate my family over the luxuries I have here in New York.

I believe that every moment in one’s life has an effect on them in some way. Everything we do matters, whether it become something important worth mentioning, or something small, not even worth remembering. Regardless of how significant you think your life has been or how exciting or meaningful it is, what your life today is is a culmination of everything that’s happened in the past. I do believe that everyone has at least one point in their life where who they are changes in some way. For better or worse, everyone has an “About Face.”

For me, it happened in my freshmen year of high school. I had chosen to go to Bishop Ford Central Catholic High School in Brooklyn, New York. That decision in itself was a life changer. My two older brothers had both gone to Xaverian High School so automatically, my family, friends, and relatives had pretty much all expected me to go their because it was “familiar” with us. When it came time to choosing where I was going, I had convinced myself that I didn’t want to go where my brothers went. I didn’t want to be known as “Little Ross” throughout my high school years. All the teachers in my elementary school knew my brothers before they knew me so I always felt a little pressure to live up to the standards that they had set. I didn’t want to feel that pressure in high school. So in the end, I thought it would be best to go to Bishop Ford.

My freshmen year in Bishop Ford was without a doubt the most stressful, challenging time of my life. I had pretty much gone to school with the same 30 people from grades K to 8th grade so now everything was different. I was this little kid surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of people that I had never seen before and I honestly didn’t know how to handle it. Everything was a struggle for me. I was so used to knowing everyone and knowing all the work, that this was all just a shock to me. Nothing came easy to me my freshmen year. My days consisted of waking up, going to class, going to football practice, and coming home to sleep… Many times without even eating dinner or telling my parents I was home. I was rarely happy during that time. I think it was just that the whole “high school” experience was very overwhelming and it took me pretty much the whole year to eventually be comfortable with school.

I think that year of high school, although it was the hardest and most miserable time of my life, changed my life forever, for the better. The next three years at Bishop Ford were an unbelievable experience for me. I can honestly say school went from being the worst time of my life to the best time of my life. I have never been happier than I was for those last three years of high school… And I think I can attribute that to all the challenging experiences I had during that first year. My freshmen year changed me socially, physically, and emotionally. From this roller coaster ride of an experience, I now believe it’s true that you “have to go through hell before you get to heaven.”

The Bitter Sea is Charles N. Li’s touching coming of age story. At some points the book has a choppy feel, when it jumps back and forth in time without much of a flow, it is noticeable that English isn’t Li’s first language. However, the strengths of the story far outweigh the weaknesses and made this both an interesting novel to read and a very informative one, providing deep insight into the Chinese culture which I was curious about but never understood.

The most intriguing aspect of the book for me was Li’s description of Eastern culture. I’ve tended to generalize and sort of put all Chinese people into one “category,” but Li’s experience brought to light the sectionalism similar to racism that exists in different parts of China. I was shocked by how much of a difficult time Li had every time he had to move, I questioned how he could feel like an outsider in his own country.

Li also makes excellent comparisons between Eastern and Western cultures. He states that Westerners are all about the self whereas the Chinese focus on the group. Maybe I don’t quite understand how this is true because of my Eastern upbringing, I find the idea that Chinese people are all about the group when juxtaposed with Li’s description of his family whom he never showed affection with until he was an adult somewhat ironic. Li’s father says that family should never lend each other money because then their relationship becomes a business exchange, but I find Li’s relationship with his father when he was in school much closer to a business exchange: he delivered good grades in exchange for a place to sleep.