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Archived entries for Fulbright

Clutching

I’ve been meaning to write for weeks. So much has happened, and I don’t know where to start. I’ve been listening to Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” on repeat. Inexplicably, the lyrics bring me to tears: “You got a fast car. I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere. Any place is better. Starting from zero got nothing to lose. Maybe we’ll make something. But me myself I got nothing to prove.”

I leave London in a matter of weeks. In most ways, I’m excited to return to the US. I’m looking forward to seeing my friends, to starting grad school, to finally feeling at home. And yet, some part of me wonders what will become of the memories once I leave this place. Despite periods of loneliness and self-doubt — or perhaps because of them — I credit this year with teaching me to be more truthful with myself and less afraid of failure.

I think that it’s hard for many of us to admit that it’s natural to seek external validation. We want to be told that the things we value are as true for others as they are for ourselves. I have come to believe that I will likely always be bound — to some extent — by a need to be loved and understood. And yet, my experiences this year have helped me understand the worth of my own convictions, even as I subject them to constant scrutiny and questioning.


Edinburgh, site of the Fulbright End Cap conference. More photos here.

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There Will Your Heart Be

When I started this blog nearly a year ago, I wrote about fear: fear of the future, fear of the unknown, fear of failure — the list goes on. I’ve never quite understood why it is that I carry so much fear around. Part of it has to do with an inability to accept imperfection. When I see myself falling short, there is horror in my head. And nothing I can do can make it go away.

Another part has to do with an inability to accept impermanence. Over the last year, I have gone through so many different identities. As soon as I feel like I’m starting fit in somewhere, I have to uproot, move on, and become somebody else. I am so grateful for all the good things that have come my way, but on nights like this — sitting here alone in a heatless room in London — I just wish I had something to belong to, and somewhere to call home.

This has been the most accomplished year of my life. It has also been the most lonely. But I think what drives me forward every day is to concentrate on the things that I really care about. Somehow, that keeps me centered and focused. It fights off the loneliness. It staves off the fear.


Poster defending older people’s right to intimacy

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The Boy in You

My mom and I have always had a strange relationship. For better or worse, I’ve inherited many of her qualities: perfectionism, sensitivity, impulsiveness, impatience. We also share a fierce sense of heart — the courage to press on regardless of how stacked the odds are against us.

Over the years, as I have deviated more and more from plans that she considers financially-secure and socially-acceptable, we have fought each other to a point past tears. Why not apply to law schools alongside design schools? Why turn down Yale for a joyride in London? Why choose a grad school that none of us have heard of before?

I have never been the ideal son, nor she the perfect mother. When I was very young, I had a weak stomach because I was born premature. She would spend hours feeding me, and I would callously upchuck it all. On one occasion, she was so frustrated that she lashed out physically, forcing me to re-ingest the vomit. It was meant to teach me shame. Though things have changed considerably, I still live with the self-same fear of disappointing her.


The Madonna and Child at the V&A

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