A Moment of Happiness

In the ordinary jumble of my literary drawer, I sometimes find texts I wrote ten, fifteen, or even more years ago. And many of them seem to me written by a stranger: I simply do not recognize myself in them. There was a person who wrote them, and it was I. I experienced them, but it was in another life, from which I just woke up, as if from someone else’s dream.

-Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet

There is nothing much I have not said.  Very few subjects I have not touched upon.  And yet, I feel like I have a world of advice and mishaps to impart to an unseen reader. It is with a heavy heart, and even heavier fingers, that I type out my very last blog entry as a part of Hopkins Interactive. The words that pepper this entry are untranslatable into English from their original languages; but they function to describe fleeting moments of emotions that have been expressed by either myself or fellow members of my graduating class.

Hygge – Danish, a complete absence of anything annoying, irritating or emotionally overwhelming, and the presence of and pleasure from comforting, gentle and soothing things

I have written posts with no words and entries with too many. I have complained, been thankful, appalled and humbled. There were times when I had nothing to say and, often, when I had more to say than I could put into words. This blog has been four years of attempting to verbalize my experience and my growth. It is at this time, the curtain call of my college education, where words to describe this moment seem to be more difficult to come by than ever before.

Wabi-Sabi – Japanese, a way of living that focuses on finding beauty within the imperfections of life and accepting peacefully the natural cycle of growth and decay

Torschlusspanik – German, the fear of diminishing opportunities as one ages

Any attempt to concisely articulate what it is like to spend fours years at Hopkins would fall short. There is growth of self, expansion of interests, passions, social circles, and maturation on so many levels. The person that my parents dropped off at Wolman Hall, who wrote those Class of 2012 Freshmen blog entries so long ago, the person who started this journey is no longer who I am. I hardly remember what it was like to be that person, rather this university and the experience of college has allowed me to be molded into who I am today and who I will choose to become.

Saudade – Portuguese, the mournful beauty of longing for something or someone that you love, and which is lost

I have always attempted to emphasis the importance of personal decision and experience in choosing a college. There is no such thing as a perfect university, no pre-packaged experience that will allow you to grow from timid freshman to conquering graduate. There is only you. Only you can decide what you make of it. It is a fascinating and daunting task, to take charge of such a formidable experience. There are many aspects to it that will be implicit, that occur through the passing of time and web and flow of friendships. Others, however, will be explicit in the direct lessons you will learn. Many, if not all lessons are difficult to learn and they force us to expand our realm of comfort. They require an extension of a sense of self, which is often stubborn. But that is what college allows to happen. The possibility of the imaginative expansion of the self. It took me four years to figure out what that truly meant, and I believe it will be a lifelong process of accepting the opportunities that come to you and growing from that.

Duende – Spanish, the mysterious power that a work of art has to deeply move a person

Tuka pamoja – Swahili, denotes a shared sense of purpose and motivation in a group, implies empathetic understanding

And so, all my cards have been placed on the table. I hope somewhere in the over one hundred and twenty posts I have written, I have imparted some small kernel of wisdom that can be of use. I honestly hope that everybody’s college experience can be as fulfilling, as engaging, and as difficult, productive and truly wonderful as mine was. I hope that among the friends you make on the day you move in are the friends you take pictures with on Graduation day. I hope your professors excite passions in subjects you never expected to love, and I hope they give you headaches with their expectations of perfection. I hope you build snowmen, go to happy hours, impact and improve your community, spend too much time in the library, skip studying to get cupcakes, and most of all, I hope you embrace every moment of happiness.

Depaysement – French, the destabilizing feeling that comes from not being in one’s own country or context

Lagorn – Swedish, somewhere between “just the right amount” and “enough,” expresses a sense of balance and satisfaction with having your needs met without excess

It has been an absolute pleasure and honor to be able to be a part of Hopkins Interactive for four years and to share my journey through this blog. The only appropriate way I could think of sending this off would be with the words of Garrison Keillor, long-time host of The Writer’s Almanac:

Be well.

Do good work.

Keep in touch.

I have spent four years writing a blog for Hopkins Interactive, attempting to articulate my experience at Hopkins and my own personal growth. In that endeavor, I’ve had moments of introspection, moments of grammar lapses, and occasionally I’ve tried to convey whatever wisdom I’ve picked up from other, more worldly and more coherent individuals.

During all that time, I’ve been more than reliant on the words of others. Lovers of literature often find themselves feeling a kinship with particular quotations, passages and works because they speak to a part of ourselves that could never really articulate those concepts with ease. And so, these are some choice snippets of thoughts that have inspired me at one point or another that I’d like to share. Considering this is my second to last blog entry ever, I have said almost all that I will and all that I can. These are lessons I hope to have conveyed in some form over the past four years and others I have not yet had a chance to share but still find compelling, and I hope they give you a moment of clarity in some form or another.

It’s the answer to every question this month. Every inquiry as to why one is irrationally emotion, MIA or genuinely questioning all of their life decisions can be answered with “Because It’s the Cup.” It’s playoffs time, and the most wonderful time of the year for a hockey fan. Also the most excruciating. But the sport does the combination of those two contrasting emotions so well that it makes sense it culminates in this exquisitely painful marathon of games, emotions, story lines, and heartbreak.

Braden Holtby. Caption really not necessary.

I recognize my complete and utter devotion to my favorite sports’ tournaments and emotional video montages is something not shared by everybody I know, but really that doesn’t deter me from talking to them (and every single person I see looking up playoff stats in general) about my opinion on results, hits, and goals. Because boundaries are stupid. Also because it’s the cup.

In the same way, “Well it’s Hopkins” tends to crop up in conversations amongst students here on a regular basis to explain oddities, exceptions and quirks that define our experience as Hopkins students. Whether it is having a professor miss a week of class because they are presenting in a conference in St. Petersburg, quips about spending too much time on D level and the woes of the demands of professors and extracurricular activities – being a Hopkins student is a commonality that unites the student body through hard work, devotion, occasionally annoyance, but mostly pride.

The Great 8.

Most of the time, Hopkins does not invoke the heart wrenching experience that defined watching the playoffs but there is a commonality that connects all Hopkins students, as playoffs connect all hockey fans. There is something unique to being a student on this particular campus with these particular professors, opportunities, and in this city. When I reflect back on my interactions with prospective students over my four years at Hopkins, I marvel at how much I did not know and could not articulate about being a student at Hopkins especially during my first year. Freshmen have the amazing experience of struggling, exploring and triumphing with their classmates in a manner that is similar at most colleges in America, it is when you begin to diversify your interests, branch out, grow roots and establish yourself throughout the next three years that what it means to be a Hopkins student in particular becomes apparent, though forever difficult to articulate effectively.

“Well it’s Hopkins” for me now becomes something that ties me just for a short while longer to this campus and to this student body. So, when the question “Why Hopkins?” is asked, all we can really say is “Well it’s Hopkins;” only here could you have these experiences, meet these students who share the passion and vigor that define those who enroll here, only by being at Hopkins and going through the four years of learning, exploring and growing do you understand fully and truly “Why Hopkins?” That is a question that is best answered by the journey. And while it is not as high paced nor as instantly gratifying/heartbreaking as the playoffs, it has not been too shabby of a journey.

PS. I’ve already cried over the Blackhawks premature exit from the playoffs so the probability of my crying over the Capitals game this upcoming Wednesday regardless of the outcome just shot up to about 123%. Hopefully not in public though. Oh joy playoffs.

Ten Things About College From a Nearly-Almost-Whendidthishappen-Graduated Senior.

George Peabody Library.

1) Taking a class that has absolutely nothing to do with your major will be more fruitful than I can truly express (Jim Crow in America; Trauma, Melancholia, and Ethnic Identity in American Literature; Islamic Literature: Beloved by Western Scholars, to name a few were some of my favorites)

2) Don’t get stuck with one coffee drink. Sure, Anarchy in the UK may be the greatest invention in the history of coffee (in my opinion, at least for this week) but expand your palate and give every coffee place and coffee type a try.

3) Take home exams are gold-plated misery. Really, you have so much more time and more resources but that translates into higher expectations. Relish in in-class exams.

4) Talking to your professors about topics not directly related to their field and/or the class can yield meaningful relationships with them. My favorite Neuroscience professor and I converse more about our favorite novels than we do about the latest visual system research.

5) Your classmates will teach you more in your interactions than can ever be anticipated. Whether it is gaining an appreciation for car engines, changing your preconceptions about a state, or expanding your repetoire of music, books, outings, and so forth – your friends will be some of your most profound teachers.

6) Broccoli and exercise will do more in keeping you alert and energized than any espresso or energy drink. Be good to your body, it makes a difference.

7) Getting cupcakes in the middle of the afternoon with friends is good for the soul. You’ll never regret the times you spend indulging a bit – you really can only study for so long before it becomes painful.

8) Failure is necessary. It is difficult and unpleasant and surprising for most Hopkins student, but it is a reality and experience that is necessary for growth so embrace it. 

9) Independence is not overrated, but it is a learning process. Cut yourself some slack when you don’t get everything perfect, this is the only time in your life that your sole responsibility is to learn so take advantage.

10) Four years seems like four weeks when you’re on the end side of things. Enjoy every moment, every late night, every cooking experiment, adventure, awkward encounter, every spring and fall, every lecture hall and every person you interact with. Trust me, it goes by way too quickly.

Words are only painted fire; a look is the fire itself.

-Mark Twain

All my life I’ve looked at words as though I were seeing them for the first time.

-Ernest Hemingway

The limitations of words. On a rare occasion, I tire of words. They are so subjective and dualistic. Words are never really owned by writers, they are simply borrowed for a time and we beg and plead with them to convey the message we are feeling. Often they don’t comply, someone can present a clever and coherent argument that says nothing much at all. And others convey such profound meaning with the fewest and most simple words of all.

One of my favorite quotations of all time. If you think words in English are bratty, Arabic is on a whole other level.

One never truly realizes how volatile and unyielding words can be until they are needed so desperately. This phenomenon is the bane of college students everywhere, sitting down to write a paper and realizing that you, quite literally, have nothing of worth to say. This experience is even more petrifying when it involves filling out applications for graduate school and jobs. When the medical school application asks for “A Short Autobiography,” that gives me so much anxiety. Does that include that time I cut my knee on sharp rock and had my cousin clean it with the warm seawater and cover it with seaweed, or just the fact that my family’s plane to move to the United States was delayed in the July heat? When the application asks me to describe my interest in healthcare, I get beyond panicked. Do they care that my grandmother and mother believe there is no ailment which cannot be cured with honey, or just the fact that studying the brain often overwhelms me with wonder? How do you take an entire existence and attempt to justify a passion with something as lifeless as words typed onto a screen. I love words, and as a devotee at the altar of literature I have a great respect for their power: but, attempting to providing a minimalistic view of who I am and what I stand for, I found myself floundering in the limited capability of words. 

Credit: my favorite photographer/little sister Meriem, taken in Brooklyn, NY

This occurrence has to be experienced by people at all levels of education, applying and describing and scraping in an attempt to explain to a faceless stranger that we are somebody of interest and worth. Often, it felt like I was the protagonist in J.M.G. Le Clézio’s novel “Le déluge” who gets so overwhelmed with the possibility of words that they simply fall into the background as nothing more than unfiltered noise, thoughts and emotions. The only way to get out of that, and watch out cause this is going to sound revolutionary, is to write. To simply get thoughts out and onto paper where they can be seen and evaluated. Whether it is an application, a thesis, a paper, a poem or a novel – the most difficult part is often simply putting down a string of words. Once there has been an attempt to place what we are feeling or what we desire to convey down, then the pleading with words can start. You have to be kind to words, and realize that sometimes you are simply powerless in their grasp. Because how many of us have ever dealt with a sentence or paragraph that no matter the editing and pleading and moving around, simply does not sound quite right. So the best we can do is get the words out and hope that through honesty of craft, whatever we wish to convey is coming across. Cause right now, the bosses in my world are written words and I’m just trying to get them to behave.

When I knocked over a cup of pipping hot coffee onto my MacBook Pro, the world stopped slightly. Clocks lagged as I clumsily and quickly attempted to dab off as much as I could. The sight of my friend holding a drill to my battery in an attempt to loosen the screw that held it into place was only second to the sight of my father attempting to power up my computer after a day of sitting in rice and having it flicker with false hope before falling into the abyss.

This past weekend was comprised entirely of me mourning and freaking out about my laptop who is gone way before his time. What that means is that I now have in my possession a new laptop (because my parents are the greatest human beings to ever inhabit this planet). Not only is this new laptop smarter than me with its sparkly new operating system, it has not left my apartment yet and I barely allow myself any time on it for fear of something unfortunate happening. Actually, as I type this entry out my closed water bottle is sitting on my nightstand across the room. Just in case.

Obviously I was annoyed by the entire ordeal, at myself and at the universe. Annoyed, upset, and more than a bit panicked about the possibility of recovering my thesis (as well as other important things from my hard drive). Through the comfort offered by my parents, I realized that was not the Earth-shattering crisis that I was making it out to be. Not that I am ever over-dramatic. Ever.

My maternal grandmother used to say “kulesh ethouweth.” In english, roughly “Everything is replaceable,” besides your loved ones and your health. The implication being, whatever negative in the universe that was headed towards my direction was felt full force by my laptop rather than by myself or any of my loved ones. This takes into account the way in which I view the world, that there is a fundamental interconnectedness that governs the universe. That is just a product of the magical realism of Garcia Marquez that I take as fact; the fact that Paulo Coelho’s belief system is one that I ascribe to; and that the Berber culture that I come from is inherently aware of a functional connectivity between humans, actions and the universe and that is reflected in the superstitions that pepper our interactions. So taking all this to rationalize my annoying misfortune, it is easy to note that it really is not that big of a deal and that material goods are easily replaceable and that re-writing my medical school application might, in fact, yield a better result that the initial round.

I am forever looking for lessons that the world is teaching me. Actually, I am quite good at interpreting events as lessons – even when life decides to kick me in the face  (metaphorically of course). This time around it was a struggle. Annoyance and self-pity made it hard to try to twist my laptop + hot coffee scenario into something that was beneficial to my growth as a human. But, eventually, I got it. The lesson is who cares? Really, I loved my laptop. We were buddies, we had good times – he kept all my downloaded hockey games in a folder and let me Skype with my sister in China. But what is he compared to my family and friends, the experiences I have and the journey I’ve lived. Nothing much, so thanks Dover the II, it was a good time and my apologies for the coffee; at least I can say you left with a bang. Or a fizzle.

There is no love sincerer than the love of food.

-George Bernard Shaw, Irish playwright

I really do not understand the purpose of dessert without chocolate.

Cakes, cookies, puddings, etc that do not contain chocolate confuse me because I cannot wrap my mind around the point of their existence. That may just be my view as a chocolate-enthusiast, and while I am obviously very biased, I do also have a pretty decent palate for pastries. Baltimore, believe it or not, has quite a few bakeries that can provide your sweet/pastry/indulgent tooth with something to satisfy it. This list would make Marie Antoinette proud, I am sure of it.

Fenwick Bakery (North Harford Road)

This bakery finds it origins in a love story. A young couple began it in 1913 and since then, generations of the same family (until very recently when it acquired new owners) have maintained the amazing quality of baked goods that they sell. Seriously, their goods are amazing. They are one of the few scratch bakeries left in Baltimore and it shows. If you go to this bakery, you have to try their Baltimore Peach Cake. And their pastries. And their doughnuts.

Bonjour (Mount Washington)

I am a firm believer that nobody outside of the French borders (or really outside of Paris or Lyon) should attempt to make macarons, it just ends up badly with dry cookies and sticky paste. Just leave it to the professionals. But Bonjour’s macarons make me give up on that elitist world view (albeit temporarily). Their baguettes, croissants, napoleons and brioches are also to die for. This bakery will just make you feel like you’re in the 7e arrondissement in Paris. And who doesn’t want to be there?

Patisserie Poupon (Inner Harbor)

If you can bake a pear tarte in the shape of a pear, that is an art form I can 100% support. This bakery is well-known in Baltimore for its scrumptious and gorgeous wedding cakes, but since I have only ever seen them I can’t comment on how delicious they are. Their pastries, however, I have had. Many times. This bakery actually is one of the few where I will break my chocolate-only rule, their Spanish fruit cake is so Mediterranean (and therefore perfect) that it will give you such a moment of happiness.

Dangerously Delicious Pies (Federal Hill)

Rodney Henry’s Dangerously Delicious Pies is a multi-store operation that will convert somebody who is lukewarm about pies (i.e. me) into a pie enthusiast. Pecan filling with chocolate glaze happens to be my favorite. Just the typing it out makes me want to grab a slice. They have the usual lemon, apple, blueberry, etc pies but also chicken and lamb pies that be a meal. I promise you, even if you try one of their pies, it will make you a pie enthusiast.

Vaccaro’s Italian Pastry Shop (Little Italy)

Any list of bakeries in Baltimore would be incomplete without a shout out to Vaccaro’s. While I am sure their bigger-is-better philosophy would confuse actual Italians, in Charm City we appreciate the aesthetics of cannoli that is as big as our head. They have Monday night specials of all-you-can-eat-desserts, and their biscotti and cream puffs are fabulous. Also their gelato, while it isn’t a baked good, is pretty darn good. They have their exalted reputation with Hopkins students for a reason, so make sure sometime during your time in Baltimore to indulge in their goods.

Ultimately, I know there are probably dozens of bakeries in this city I have not had the pleasure of exploring but these fives rank amongst my favorites. So if you haven’t had the opportunity yet, go on and indulge a little.

Sometimes questions are more important than answers.

-Nancy Willard

Way back in the day (i.e. when I was a freshman), I liked to include blog posts about the classes that I was taking every semester and my opinion on the material, professor, etc. And then I realized, I hated writing those posts, which probably meant nobody liked reading them. My class schedule is usually amazing, my professors brilliant, supportive and inventive and exams happen, assignments get turned in, days go by. What I found to be more interesting to write about, and I would assume to read, were thoughts on the philosophy of being a student, and more specifically being a student at Hopkins. You can take “Ancient Civilizations” at any university, but the point of my presence on Hopkins Interactive is to attempt to communicate why studying that specific class, or any other, is a unique and fulfilling experience at Hopkins. There is a scope of enthusiasm about learning and passion about knowledge that is almost tangible at this university, and taking advantage of that atmosphere is the best decision any student can make during their four years here.

As a junior, I decided I wanted to do a thesis and while the Neuroscience department in all its research-encouraging glory was an attractive choice, I decided to write a thesis in the History of Science, Medicine and Technology. I had spent three years taking classes about modern medicine, Latin American technology, body ethics, science on display, museums and the Renaissance and felt that grabbing the opportunity to research and explore something of my own interests would be a great use of my time. I had more questions about topics than answers, and wanted to work at figuring out how to go about answering at least one of those questions. Our university’s History of Science and Technology department does not have any Islamic history scholars but that really did not stop me from choosing to write my thesis on Ibn Sina’s Canon of Medicine and its parallel impact in medical school curricula in both the Latin and Arab worlds. And yes, it has taken me about seven months of attempting to explain the topic succinctly and cohesively and that is the best way I know how.

I may have briefly mentioned my thesis in past entries, but I do not think I have ever fully explored the process nor my particular experience so far. Writing a senior thesis is the tell-tale sign of your abilities to self-manage your time. Nobody is going to make you choose to write a thesis; moreover, nobody is going to check your research progress, your writing habits nor your dedication to making it anything of quality. My thesis advisor has functioned mainly to offer guidance and advice on finding research materials but she does not read nor approve my research notes, neither does she set deadlines for me. It is entirely a self-run and self-serving process.

I choose the word self-serving very deliberately because writing a thesis as a senior does not really mean much in terms of an additional degree or praise, but rather the most fulfilling part of embarking upon this process is the process itself. I choose to write this thesis because the subject matter has interested me for the majority of my life, and I had not yet had the opportunity to explore it in an effectuate manner. It is really convenient that I have the ridiculous love for libraries that I do because my thesis research has meant hours upon hours of scouring the Special Collections and Rare Books at the MSE library, as well as the Welch Medical Library downtown. In fact, I am basically writing this blog entry because I have four very dense and multilingual encyclopedias from the 1600s staring at me waiting to be combed through. If I was not entirely enthralled and in love with Ibn Sina and his legacy, I would basically be miserable – instead, most of even the most mundane aspects of research are enjoyable because I know it’ll add a depth of knowledge and authority to my final thesis paper.

Intellectual curiosity is one of my favorite attributes in people. It is a term coined by my favorite teacher in high school, Mrs. Feil, whose room was entirely decorated in pink and had a breadth of literary knowledge that could both inspire and challenge her students. She always encouraged us to be intellectual curious, to desire to expand our knowledge base and understanding not for the sake of affirmation from a teacher or an exam but for the sole reason that that knowledge is worth possessing. To ask questions and have them be enough. In the sixty-odd pages that I will be writing on Ibn Sina, at no time will I make a definite conclusion about the nature of the aspects of historical efficacy that defy logical explanation. They are artifacts of social interactions, cultural nuances, and the unexplainable trends of human behavior. I am simply asking questions. In this way, the humanities and the sciences are very much similar. No scientific paper will proclaim they have found “the” answer, rather they provide evidence and a discussion.

This mechanism of discussion and questions is how intellectual pursuits occur. In the real world, nobody gives you a grade for your work. Your ability to regurgitate Physics formulas and plug in numbers won’t be worth much, but the ability to ask questions, formulate arguments, discuss and disagree are skills that should be learned by every student during their university years. It is fine that you must learn and know a lot of “stuff,” but knowing what to do with that stuff, and recognizing the difference between information and knowledge and wisdom is an important distinction to make.  I can say without a shadow of a doubt that working on my thesis has highlighted and reinforced my belief in this difference. So I may never publish any written work on Ibn Sina nor his Canon that I find so breathtaking, but the process that I am going through, the skills, struggles and my self-serving triumphs will provide me with skills I have not honed anywhere else. And that is a real good use of my time.

By far the most dangerous foe we have to fight is apathy – indifference from whatever cause, not from a lack of knowledge, but from carelessness, from absorption in other pursuits, from a contempt bred of self-satisfaction.

-William Osler

Earlier this week, a friend of mine and one of the organizers at the Tutorial Project, Hannah invited me to come to a Baltimore City school initiative. The meeting consisted of parents, teachers, social workers, and community organizers discussing the various campaigns being worked on to address the immediate needs of the BCPS system. The topic of this particular meeting was the bottle tax and property tax initiative that will help raise money in order to ameliorate the issue of crumbing and decrepit infrastructure that is a reality for the majority of schools in Baltimore City. As individuals who spend much of our time working with and for Baltimore youth, Hannah and I were moved by the dedication and passion of those at the meeting. There was a sense of objective understanding that our involvement, despite our desire to be a part of the work and movement, would be that of outsiders. Whether that was a manifestation of our own making or because seeing Hopkins students at these kinds of meeting is such an anomaly is a distinction that is up for interpretation, but it did spark a thought in my mind concerning how Hopkins students interact within our community.

Johns Hopkins’ Homewood campus can feel like an oasis of higher education in a sea of poverty. Baltimore City is not a exceedingly wealthy city, there are parts of the city where graduation rates are lower than you would conceive to be possible, and it struggles to deal with a economy that has not been allowed it to recover from a decline in industry. With all of that said, Baltimore City still stands as a testament to its citizens and its reputation as charm city. To spend four years here, or any city for that matter, and remain apathetic towards is plights is to do a disservice to the opportunities offered by the college experience.  Sitting in lecture, learning how to think, articulate, argue and fail are all important to the classroom education in college; however, I believe there are more fundamental lessons that are learned through the independence and immersion into a new community.

That community extends beyond the walkways and lecture halls of a college campus. I know this because I see it every day. I see it in the interactions between our tutors and tutees at the Tutorial project, between families that come to Kennedy Krieger to participate in research and the volunteers, between freshmen during Orientation and the areas they serve during the President’s Day of Service. I have seen in countless times during my four years at Hopkins, but I have never been able to articulate why I find it so particularly important. For the first time, this meeting allowed me the vocabulary to discuss why college students must, on the merit of necessity, be engrained and concerned about the triumphs and tribulations of their adopted city.

My family came to this country for the sole purpose of offering my sisters and myself the opportunity for an amazing education; moreover, I recognize the importance of the schooling part of education. To learn and to expand and to grow, it is all dandy and important. But, almost more consequentially, education should allow you to grow as a whole human. To expand your capability for compassion and involvement. You can gain all the skills in the world, but without the values and experience to apply them they remain stagnant and benefiting nobody. I may not remember how to solve a gravitational potential problem in ten years, but I will value the ability to integrate and contribute to issues that affect my community, wherever that may be.

So it matters to me. It matters that elementary schools in Baltimore do not have heating in the winter, that their walls are crumbling and that their funding is lacking. That is the particular issue that evokes my passions, it may not be the same for everybody, but something (ambiguity intended) should be important enough for you to care. Apathy is limiting, frustrating and fruitless. Caring about BCPS is not included in my curriculum to graduate, but it bears just as much importance to my education. Because this is now my home as well, and to remain disengaged would be an insult to the warmth, opportunities and wealth of support that this city has offered me. That is a lesson that should be taken by all college students, future and present, because the choices we make now about the value we place on issues we care about will be long-lasting and run very deep.

Every hardship; evry joy; every temptation is a challenge of the spirit; that the human soul may prove itself.

-Elias A. Ford

At this time exactly one year ago, I was in Algeria – checking out Roman ruins, being fed exorbitant amounts of food by my many family members, driving through the bridges of Constantine, taking advantage of the fact that I was the only one traveling with my father and thus he bought me everything I looked at, and being asked by everybody second cousin to say something in English.

hi dzayer. i miss you. let's reunite real soon okay?

This year – my winter break and Intersession could not look more different to that vacation.

This year, every day consists of my making my coffee in the morning, packing a sandwich and heading off to my local library for eight hour study marathons in preparation to take the MCAT at the end of this month. To say that this is not a fun time would be an understatement of epic proportions. Thankfully, my mother convinced me to stay home in DC while studying which means that I don’t have to worry about general housekeeping/cooking/etc that I would have if I had returned to Baltimore to study. While this means that I am no longer working on perfecting my Nutella thumbprint cookies (which by the way, are pretty flawless cause my dad finished half a batch in one evening and he doesn’t even like Nutella), it is nice that I can come home from hours of convincing myself that functional groups and Newton’s laws are important enough for me to remember and get to de-stress with my parents and sister.

I usually can pull out some positive spin from whatever is going on in my life, but really right now I am in either “study” or “try not to freak out about studying” mode. Considering I have under twenty days before I take this exam, and one I hopefully intend to take only once, I figure that it is one of those toughen up times. And, in all honesty, this is part of the path that I have wanted to follow since I was a child.

Realistically, it is easy to tell people “doctor, lawyer, engineer, writer, curator, chef, etc” when you are asked your career aspirations. They are just words. I could as easily say I want to be on Broadway, but as any of my closest friends can tell you, I couldn’t carry a tune if you gave it to me in a child-proof bucket with a lid. My point being, there comes a point when the words we say, the dreams we claim to have, the aspirations that we so easily assign to our futures must begin to become a reality. And with the beginning of the realization of those desires often comes waves of hard work and a test of your dedication and passion. Would I rather be reading, perfecting my cookie recipes, preparing dinner for my family and knitting during this Intersession? Absolutely. But I have goals and I am the only person that can make them happen and so I huddle in a cubicle every day and work until my fingers cramp.

We had the first snow of 2012 today! This is the view from behind my house. (I stole this picture from my baby sister, as per usual she is my favorite photographer)

I have always hated blog posts that are irrationally and unrealistically inspirational; I feel like they are a mockery and incredibly facetious. But if I may be so bold as to dabble in some thoughts; there are certain qualities inherent to all us, the distinct ability to push ourselves to try for something more than we currently are. Passion and drive are not virtues assigned based on birth place or circumstance but rather intrinsic qualities of the human spirit that need naught more than nourishment to be integral to achieving one’s aspirations. Aspirations that are educational, personal, physical, etc in purpose. Whatever it is that you want, there is some path, some puzzle pieces that can be put together to make it a reality. So the question always is – how bad do you want it?