Month: December 2023

Final Blog – Reflection

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Of the five blogs I have written so far, it’s hard to choose a singular blog I have enjoyed writing the most. If I were to choose, it would be from my last three blogs—adaptability using the thermostat as an analogy, five things I learned from Reframe Your Brain, and my childhood memories. The easiest one to write of these three was the blog on my childhood memories, where I had included a bit of melancholy in the essay. I found myself able to type my exact thoughts into the blog autonomously yet cohesively, not stopping to contemplate word choice or stylistic choices. It came naturally to me as I wrote this, and after rereading this blog, I concluded that I must have been thinking about my past and these lost memories a lot lately; unfortunately, I never had the chance to address it, so I found the blog as an opportunity to release my thoughts. Although it didn’t take me much time to write it, this blog has been one of the most insightful reflections I have written about myself. 

For adaptability, I felt that I had written the essay almost in a position of expertise, sharing my experience (such as sporting events and the thermostat in my house) and how I believed adaptability is the most important aspect of learning at a young age. Reframe Your Brain was a bit different and a bit more personal to me. This blog was fun to write as I constantly quoted the book, but was also serious as these lessons are applicable to improve anyone’s life. I seriously felt—and I still do—that this book can help anyone who wishes to achieve success and a fulfilling life with a reduced side effect of stress and negative energy. It also has been a while since I picked up a book on my own accord and dug through it, and Reframe Your Brain was one of the best options I could’ve gone with.

I feel that I improved as a writer over the semester as I have become a better reader as well. In As I Lay Dying and Sethe, considering multiple perspectives at the same time about the same narrative was crucial to understanding the book and its purpose in its entirety. After viewing each perspective, I was able to draw conclusions about the meaning of the text as a reader, and then translate my thoughts and conclusions in a more concise and comprehensive manner in an essay. In the past, I would type in periods, where I had writer’s block every few sentences or so when constructing an essay, but I felt that as the semester progressed, I was able to draw evidence from the text and connect it to my argument much more effectively. The Hexagonal activity from the second part of Sethe was one of my favorite essays not only because I received a higher grade, but also because I was able to finish it within a class period without getting stuck on ideas and falling off on a tangent mid-paragraph.

I have enjoyed reading other people’s blogs this semester, and I have learned a lot through them. It was interesting to see other people express their views in a very personal matter, and my differences and similarities in them. I almost forget how others can have vastly different opinions on one topic, yet have the same opinion on another. As I read these blogs, I learned to consider their perspectives as much as I consider my own perspectives. I found Claire’s blog about preparing for college very insightful and helpful, while I found Luke’s blog on driving slowly relatable. I realized that there will always be personal bias in any form of writing, but to ignore such biases as they can distract from the main idea of the text. This realization helped me understand other people’s perspectives, and rather than ignoring them, accepting the differences between each other is the best course of action.

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Where has my childhood gone?

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This is going to be a slightly sentimental essay, but I don’t intend for this to be sad at all. To be honest, I had little idea of what to write about, and this felt natural to write but was a lot more personal.

I’ve recently discovered that my family has kept all of the family’s memories in a massive storage file on the network. This consists of media all the way back from 2000, before my sister and I were born. This file consists of everything–from my and my sister’s sporting events, birthdays, vacations, family visits, and the occasional glimpse into our daily life as a family. I’m grateful to my parents for organizing these files meticulously throughout the years, and I’m glad I have these moments of my childhood captured. To be frank, I don’t remember any of it at all.

These are my two dogs, and this is me with my grandma.

Sadly, they both died when I was 8 years old. I unfortunately don’t have many recollections of them, besides the photos in the media file. I don’t remember the sound of my dogs’ barks or the voice of my grandma. I have fragments of them in my memory–some good, some bad. My issue is that most of what I remember is when they died. It’s upsetting to me, and this fact troubles me in the present. What upsets me more is the fact that these fragments are slowly fading away, the periods between when I think of them gradually increasing. What was interesting to me though was the fact that I had felt a twist of anger going through the pictures of them through the files. I was initially excited to reignite some memories, but I felt more hollow as I paused on these photos, attempting to drink in the memories of the moment, to no avail. No matter how sad I felt and how much I was forcing myself to remember, I still couldn’t recall much more than the fragments of memories I originally had. I had hoped that going through my past would result in a cascade of recollections, but there was nothing for my mind to grasp. It almost made me regret revisiting my childhood.

In this photo, the guy on my right is my best bud, Cameron. He’s a year older than me, and this is him coming to my kindergarten graduation at Creme de la Creme without any proper clothing. I had completely forgotten about this dude until I rediscovered him in the photos we had together. Cameron was one of the most influential friends I’ve had in my childhood, teaching me all about video games, pokemon, beyblades, all the good stuff. This guy also got me hooked on exotic cars, too. I hung out with Cameron nonstop as a kid, watching movies or playing sports or Mario Kart on the Wii. I looked up to him for 5 solid years. And yet I don’t even remember the last time I saw him. I don’t even know why I stopped hanging out with him. Maybe he moved. I just don’t remember.

I’m different than my sister in this way. She was able to remember the time when I was born when she was 2 years old and we were living in St. Charles. She claims she remembers that house as well as our current home, which she’d lived in for 13 years. I have no clue what the house looks like. No fragments, nothing. Up until a couple of days ago, I thought I had only visited Hong Kong, my parent’s homeland, once. Apparently, I was the only one in the family who didn’t know we went twice in two years. I felt like this was a “my whole life is a lie” scenario. I remember only a handful of bits while my sister is able to recount the trips to HK in vivid detail. I’m jealous of this capability of hers and how it differs from mine, but at the same time, I’m not.

In contrast to my sister, I’m able to move on from these events without episodic regret. As we all grow older, sulking and contemplating the past in larger magnitudes are dangerous and hinder the progression of your present self. Some people can’t help but mention their past in accordance with their successes or failures, indicating they haven’t accepted reality and moved on to become a better version of themselves. On the other hand, some people ignore their past completely. For me, I will always look back on this family album until the end of my time. As I grow older, forging new memories and inevitably forgetting my past, I will be more than happy to look back on the things and people that have shaped me forever. I feel that my childhood hasn’t left and will never leave me as I always have a place where I can happily revel in nostalgia.