I haven't changed at all.

I just found a few pieces of work written when I was 17 or 18. I realized I haven't changed at all for the past ten years. "Who I am" is such an eternal being.

March, 2004

Encounter

     In my mind, the most beautiful word in this temporal world is “encounter.”

     The value of life lies in its uncertainty.  Numerous encounters in a lifetime are like soulful musical notes, weaving a symphony of spring, summer, autumn, and winter.  They nurture the nature of my heart, letting me waltz through the turbid stream of society.

     How blessed and fortunate I am that I have encountered you.  You activate my emotions, thoughts, and ambition, bringing me the belief of the passion in words, the logic in symbols, and the crisis in graphs; I learn your quandary, raising my infinite empathy, which firms my atheism; I can feel your eyes of jealousy, which simply puts an overcoat of pride on me; I peek into your kind and passionate heart, which triggers a series of fantasies……

     If you innocently believe that there is a model which fits my written sculpture, I have to say—you, are thousands of “encounters,” making my flamboyant love with life more and more beautiful.

April, 2004

Pretense

     Eighteen, is an age that seems to be qualified as an adult but in fact an age of a vague number.  Should I turn into an adult overnight or keep being my parents’ forever-little child during the past eighteen years?

     How is being forever-little possible?  For my parents and all my relatives, I am indeed silly, innocent, and obedient, which is the mask I wear in my family—pretense of immaturity.  However, there is only one motive behind this mask—I do not want to estrange myself from them.

     If I let my rebellious adolescence take control of my behavior and communicated with them in a mature and witty form, right now I would be very likely to sit alone in the cage of loneliness, accused of “being pretentious and autistic.” My maturity and wit, after several of my intentional tests, have been proved a burden, even abnormality or eccentricity, for my family, because they cannot accept the fact that a child who is some thirty years younger than they is able to stultify their so-called assumed-to-be-right principles.  Therefore, I make a pretense.  I pretend that I can identify their logical thinking with mine and that I am still the obedient girl I have always been under the diaper to uniform.

     Is it a lie?  Is it filial obedience?  Because of my empathy I will always wear this mask.  It makes others feel comfortable and trustful; it is removed only when I am all alone.


September, 2003 -- This is the personal statement that got me into an Ivy League school.

I had never called her Aunt, although what she had done for me was much more than what any aunt could do for her niece.  It was something that only a best friend could do.  As a tribute to our relationship, we called each other by our first names as it made us feel more like best friends.

She moved in with us while I was in a time of transition in my life.  I just started my senior high school life in one of the most competitive schools in the country.  I was frustrated and confused with my studies, and usually found myself searching for answers.  Yet every night when I studied alone and struggled to stay awake, she came in my room and sat by me until I finished all my homework.  She was always patient with me, and taught me grammar, an unrest dynasty, or an economic theory better than any teacher that I had ever had in school.  One Friday night, I found myself stuck in the middle of an equation, scribbling all over the paper with little success.  After a while, I began to smell the soothing aroma of Jasmine Tea coming from the kitchen.  She handed me a cup and said,   “Why don’t we take a walk and let the moon and wind wash away your confusion?”  I agreed.

The wind was tender, making my hair billow with it; the night was extraordinarily quiet, as if the whole world was resting.  “Sometimes, forbidding yourself in the compact room is like falling into the abyss of an unsolvable equation.  You have to free your mind.  I know you’re full of inspiration, and that makes you the wealthiest person on earth,” she said.  I kept staring at the old oak tree, while the stars sparkled silently.  “Thinking and exploring are good things; youth and life experiences will solve everything.  Right now you should be thinking how to face the reality and responsibility in life.”

With this wisdom, she unlocked the cage that held my spirit.  I became responsible for my goals and my destiny.  As this occurred, I sought to determine the distinguishing characteristic that would set me apart from others.

Another night, we took a walk alone the street.  She said, “The ancient Chinese used ‘peeping at the moon,’ ‘watching the moon,’ and ‘flirting with the moon’ as simile to studying at different ages.  If you are always stuck in trivial problems and never composed, when are you going to find the fun of flirting with the moon?”  She was very familiar with my silence.  Once again, my aunt suddenly became my best friend, and again my life had been transformed.  If I limited myself to a small corner, the whole world would shrink upon me, and I would never appreciate the full extent of the universe.  My aunt had broadened my horizons by helping me realize that I must keep my problems in perspective.  After this exchange, my days continued to grow brighter and brighter.  Occasionally, I still lost myself in contemplation, but after discovering that a certain problem was unsolvable, I would curtail my doubt in the interest of a greater inner peace.

The wisdom and friendship that my aunt has given me is equaled by no other.  She has undoubtedly changed my life.  I have never called her Aunt, as the friendship between us can never be titled.