Thank you, Louisa Zhang

I open the Starbucks app to be greeted by my 138 stars that are waiting to be redeemed. As usual, I order the same drink every week. As lengthy and pricey as my order is, it gives me motivation to finish my week’s worth of homework all in one day. I open my backpack and lighten the load by taking out the folders and notebooks I know I won’t touch today as I wait for Louisa to make the treacherous forty-five second drive from her house to mine.

As usual, we embark on our Sunday adventure an hour later than we had originally planned the night before – whether it be because I was in the middle of vacuuming my room, Louisa slept in, or her mom took the car to Fresh Thyme for the world’s most prolonged grocery run. As she pulls into my cul-de-sac, I press order on the app and watch 8 stars get added to my point collection: one for every dollar I have spent.

By the time we arrive at Washington & Ogden, our drinks are ready at the counter and we get settled into what would be our residence for the next few hours.

We have been doing this for about a year now. It’s become our habit to devote our Sundays to studying. Whether we are catching up on homework assignments from last week or writing our college apps that are not due for months, we always find a way to fill up the eight hours that we spend with each in the most productive way possible. I find comfort and security in the fact that every Sunday I have a routine that helps me reset after the strenuous week; it helps relieve the burden and stress that school causes Monday through Saturday. It reminds me that humans are creatures of habit and patterns are solutions for the eccentricity that life brings. We find relief when there is minimal change. Every Sunday, I know exactly where I am going to be and who I am going to be with. I know that whether I have a good or bad week, I still have Louisa and my drink waiting to hear all about it at 9am (but it becomes 10 am because we have developed the inability to do anything on time).

Our friends and family know Sunday is Meg & Louisa day. That’s why my mom, who is ever so persistent about knowing where I am and who I am with at all times, never asks those questions on Sunday even though I am out of the house from the morning till evening. That’s why our friends know that if they are making plans with one of us on Sunday, they will be seeing both of us. As a consequence, Sunday is also the day when my credit card is swiped, inserted, and tapped the most. It’s the day when my Venmo notifications completely fill up my inbox. After all, how can Louisa and I have a productive studying day if we didn’t get Starbucks, boba, Cane’s, and stop by Target to see which useless purchase to make this week?

All jokes aside, I promise we work really hard. As two students who have been in the honors program for as long as we can remember, Louisa and I push each other to be the best students we can possibly be. We hold each other accountable and promise silly rewards for completing tasks in what we deem is a timely manner. We have learnt how to push ourselves and reward ourselves, and we somehow managed to make studying feel gratifying.

Sunday has become my favorite day of the week even though I consider preparing for the SAT and reading my economics textbook anything but fun. It is my favorite day of the week because I know the only thing I have to do that day is spend time with my person, someone who understands me and exactly the kind of support I need as I transition from one busy week into another. Someone who helps me achieve all of my goals even though she enables my unhealthy spending habits. I guess no one can be 100% perfect.

Thank you, Louisa Zhang.

My Literary Purpose

6th grade was the peak of my reading career. I even had to get glasses.

I picked up my book right when I woke up and I would read it while I was brushing my teeth. I had the book open while eating my bowl of Cocoa Puffs and then I always made sure to bring it with me in the car. I would be reading with a flashlight at 10 pm and turning it off immediately when I heard my parent’s footsteps coming upstairs only to turn it on again when I heard their bedroom door close.

I would read any book I could find (except non-fiction) because I could never pick my favorite genre to read. One week I was reading realistic fiction, the next week I was reading fantasy, the following week I was reading a murder mystery book that only the 8th graders were allowed to read. All three years of middle school I read all 20 Rebecca Caudills. I became a familiar face to the librarians and I was always the first one to run out of the classroom anytime we had a book fair. Slowly, the drawers in my room began to fill up with books and I had to use the guest room dresser to store the rest of them. My sister followed my pursuit and started reading my old books and for some odd reason I got protective over her touching them. Reading was a way for me to be in solitude and escape from reality and I guess I believed that if someone else was escaping with me, it meant I was not alone with it anymore. I was sheltered growing up and reading stories about people who led different lives from me made me feel more connected to the world around me.

7th grade was the peak of my writing career. 

My years of reading finally caught up to me and I was able to write the most detailed stories that my English teacher loved so much that she would read them out loud to the class. The stories I wrote were similar to the stories I read, all of them featuring young adults in a fictitious adventure. Even with writing, I could never pick what I liked writing the most. 

So I wrote stories, speeches, poems, and essays. I would write about anything and everything that I cared about to the point that I was just ranting everything my mind was carrying on a page. I loved writing because even as frustrating as it was, once I found the right idea, I couldn’t stop typing. It took the weight of my thoughts off of me as I loved watching the clutter in my brain come together on my screen in clear cut sentences.

The way I approached writing changed towards the end of 7th grade. In February, a school shooting occurred in Parkland, Florida. It was one of the first times I felt myself truly being disturbed by the possibility that the world we live in is far more cruel and unjust than I initially thought. It was another moment of me coming out of the sheltered life that I had settled in for as long as I had known. Following the shooting, I took the opportunity to write a speech about changing gun control laws in America. Anytime we could write an essay of our own choice, my topic would always be regarding gun laws. I wrote letters to lawmakers and joined March For Our Lives to participate in as many walk-outs and protests as I could.

I learnt the power of being able to write since the ability to write gives one the ability to voice their opinions into the world . If you write with enough impact and persuasion, you can change a few hearts and minds. Those few hearts and minds will change another few… and then another few… and then another few. This revelation gave me the motivation to write well. To write with such passion and sincerity that would make people acknowledge and appreciate the object of your writing. I read with a purpose and wrote for a purpose. The importance of that purpose grew with me as I began to learn about the profundity of the literary world.

8th grade was when the way I viewed reading and writing was changed completely.

I always thought annotating text was a foolish idea. I sucked the enjoyment out of reading and up until that point I only did read for the sole purpose of enjoyment. I wondered why my teachers would force us to make analysis and conclusions when I simply just wanted to enjoy the story. I was becoming frustrated that reading and writing was becoming a burden.

The 8th grade English curriculum introduced me to texts such as Animal Farm, Fahrenheit 451, and To Kill a Mockingbird and my teacher taught me how to read books with intentional depth. I learnt about symbolism, motif, tone, mood, syntax, and diction. I began to admire the author’s intent and the complex thought that went into each line in order to convey the truest meaning of the book. I stopped reading purely for enjoyment and I started reading with the intent of learning the author’s wisdom and experiencing their perspective. At one point, I had so many annotations on a page that I couldn’t even read the original text. Reading became a scavenger hunt as I tried to discover the complexities of the book through the author’s choice of writing. I applied my own life experiences, bias, and circumstances when I was reading to adapt the author’s lesson into my own world. My new perspective on reading consequently affected the way I wrote. I was no longer writing simply out of pure passion, I was writing with a goal. I researched which words I wanted to use, where to put them, how long I wanted a sentence to be, and the specific details I wanted to include. My writing style changed from free flow and fast paced to deliberate and thoughtful. I wrote my pieces like how I wanted them to be read. It made my writing more powerful and thought-provoking since my intentions introduced a different dimension to it. It heightened my purpose.

I have been and will always be a lover of language. The stories and memories that can be shared through reading and writing are something that we should never lose. It’s how we share ideas, wisdom, and our unique experiences to make everyone understand life a bit better. We are all individual puzzle pieces in this world and language is what brings everyone together. I will always believe that my purpose can be conveyed through intentional reading and writing and that is how I will use my story to impact the stories of those around me.