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angemiel16
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Country: Monaco
Gender: Female
Interests: vanilla. hazelnut. almond. the finer things in life, like compulsive baking and understated elegance. perfection. simplicity.
Expertise: decisions
Member Since:
12/4/2002
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| Tomorrow I will be embarking on what will probably be the most challenging journey of my life to date, and I absolutely cannot wait. If only I didn't have to figure out how to pack a mattress pad and pillow along with two months worth of clothes and shoes. With any luck, I'll still be updating as I tame summer school students-- either way, surprise emails, calls, and reassurance are always welcome. | | |
| He speaks Taiwanese, Japanese, Cantonese, and Mandarin, in that order. I speak English, French, Mandarin, and Taiwanese. With his best language being my worst, and only seeing each other every few years, and his hearing going, we've never communicated a great deal, and we've only known each other's lives secondhand. But now I find that he is a stubborn person-- one who insisted on walking nearly two hours round trip to physical therapy immediately following his stroke (at age 82) and three-month hospital stay. He is a person who loves water-- loves to hear it, loves to be near it, loves to be in it. He is a person who loves people and used to be president of every Lion's Club, Neighborhood Association, and Merchant Group that would admit him, and one who loves to travel (has climbed every peak in Taiwan) and delights in new experiences. So much so, in fact, that every now and then he hops a bus or a train and just takes off, leaving my worried grandmother calling all his many friends all over the country when he doesn't come home for dinner.
Who says some traits don't skip a generation? With any luck (or effort), when I'm in my 80s I'll still be able to swim several kilometers a morning too. Even though I still won't be able to tell him. | | |
| I suppose I owe you/me/someone some sort of reflection or contemplation or thoughts or sappy sentimental nostalgic musing on finishing the K-16 grind. Since those are some of the most common words in blog titles. Since we bloggers self-centeredly think that others actually care what's going on in our muddled minds. I like that pretense :) So, before I leave the country yet again, on Michigan:
Sometimes I wonder who I'd be had I gone to school elsewhere, or had I transferred after sophomore year. I wonder if I'd have found the same academic interests, the same types of friends, the same lifestyle. Part of me likes to think so, because humans like to believe in consistency and trait-stability, and because the 4-year college experience at any rigorous residential university certainly has more similarities than dissimilarities. We all share the familiarity with getting sick without mommy nearby for the first time, of procrastinating and playing frisbee (or watching it be played) on the quad/diag/lawn, of libraries and liquor, of communal showers and cramming, formals and football (or some other NCAA tradition) and other marks and memories of our well-educated middle-class personas. We'll be able to gather over happy hour when we're 25, playground equipment when we're 35, and PTA meetings when we're 45, and reminisce about unique but scarily similar moments. "Oh, college," we'll say, and be universally understood within our social spheres.
But part of me isn't convinced that I'd still be the person I've grown to love (sometimes) had I had that college experience anywhere else. When I applied to transfer, I applied to find peers more like me in their backgrounds and tastes and ambitions. I applied to find security and intellectual stimulation in my comfort zone. I applied to find the warmth of a smaller campus and a more temperate climate. And those were really, really hard to turn away from.
So when I decided to stay I turned to discovering what Michigan could offer me that nobody else could. That came in the form of study abroad and research and financial freedom and Ann Arbor, but most importantly, it came in the form of values and priorities.
I don't need to rehash Michigan's social justice tradition, although I didn't know until recently that we had the first medical school to admit African-Americans, first law school to admit women, and first large undergraduate university to admit women and Asian-Americans. Nor did I know that while the Peace Corps was started on the steps of our Union, that the idea originally came from a group of Michigan students who wrote a manifesto and sent it up through the ranks until it reached Kennedy. And I'm continually amazed by our administration and faculty's efforts in global outreach.
While I've always cared about people and helping people, just like most everyone will claim, it took Michigan to convince me not just that I could make a career out of it, but that I had to. Just because I have the ability and the options and the privilege that can ensure me a lovely life hiding in a bubble or working for a Fortune 500 or moving to a bustling metropolis or embarking on a high profile career doesn't mean I should. I don't doubt that there'll be days I'm jealous of you or your income, or days I'll impose myself upon your hospitality, but that's not where my heart is. It's hard to say something like this without people getting defensive, even though I'm just talking about me and not attacking anyone else's choices or lifestyles.
Because it's not just about doing what you can when you can and calling it a day. Making the world a better place isn't a part-time resume booster or extracurricular activity-- it's my responsibility as a citizen and as a human being. I don't have a choice.
And that's what I've learned at Michigan. | | |
| the michigan difference
class of 2007
go blue. | | |
| Thursday, wandering around town, trying two new restaurants in the span of two hours (ok, one delicious takeout Indian eatery and one divine specialty cupcake shoppe), and revisiting the part of town I lived in during some of my happiest weeks in Ann Arbor (and the jewelry store, handmade stationery store, and organic food co-op in that neighborhood), I realized that what I would miss about the past four years is Ann Arbor and all its culinary glory. I enjoyed college and have some great memories. I appreciated Michigan and would recommend it to almost anyone. But I won't miss either, per se.
I don't think I'll particularly miss the people either. Yes, I made some great friends. But with the people who mean the most to me, I have strong relationships that can withstand any amount of time or distance. So I won't miss them, really. We'll be around for each other when we need to be.
So I finished all my undergraduate requirements this past Tuesday, graduate next Saturday, and am sticking around in the interim so I can do that cliche saying goodbye business. Lunches and happy hours with individuals, dinner dates with the three groups of friends I have (as I've always said, I don't like groups and have never had a superclose group of friends, so this is a prime example of my social chameleon nature). It was difficult to coordinate schedules, but we settled on Friday evening, Saturday evening, and Sunday evening, and everyone agreed. 6 PM-- early enough that we'd be done well in advance of the nighttime festivities and more pressing engagements. Then, Thursday morning, people started flaking. I kinda want to predrink early with other friends, I don't want to go to that restaurant anymore, I won't be ready to go out by 6, I just don't feel up to it on that day because I have to save myself for drinking that night. Can everyone reschedule around my whims? The best was an email from a girl who was too drunk to type herself-- so her friend sent it, from his email account, informing us that she'd decided we were going to barbecue at his house instead of doing our dinner plans, and if we had complaints we could direct them to someone else.
You know me. There's nothing I hate more than broken promises, including the disgusting spider crawling around my room earlier today. And, short of any really extenuating circumstances, I consider a dinner date to be a promise, especially when it's made with five other people.
So yes, I'm annoyed about flaky people. I'm annoyed that people consider spur-of-the-moment-plans to be so much more important than pre-existing ones. I'm annoyed that people think entire groups should adjust to their schedules. I'm annoyed that I stayed the extra week instead of going home or going on a fun trip somewhere else. But really? I just don't care anymore. I won't miss you. I'll fondly remember the times we spent together, but let's be honest, I'll probably never visit you, and will not expect any more from you than the annual email update.
And "friends" like that, weighed against the nearly 200 restaurants I've sampled during my time here? No small wonder Ann Arbor wins top prize for my affections. | | |
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