The much awaited...essays...that got me into MIT. Enjoy! We know you lead a busy life, full of activities, many of which are required of you. Tell us about something you do simply for the pleasure of it. (100 words or fewer)
Word Count: 98/100 It’s impossible to get the perfect tapioca-ball-to-milk-tea ratio. Every bubble tea leaves boba pearls orphaned at the bottom of my cup. Small orbs of black, chewy satisfaction. Some are tucked under ice cubes, as I maneuver the straw to consume the stowaways. I take a breath from every day’s chaos to focus on the (literal) little things. When I finally pin the last pearl under the trap of my straw, it’s like finding the last piece of a puzzle: a playful desire for completion and a cause to celebrate. It’s a sugar-high moment to commemorate the 5-year-old inside. Although you may not yet know what you want to major in, which department or program at MIT appeals to you and why? (100 words or fewer) Word Count: 90/100 From cell contaminations to unexpected results, I experienced an unrivaled investment in the emotional rollercoaster that is cancer cell research. However, when I took my first computer science class, I rediscovered everything I loved about biochemistry in another context: the gratification of temporary success, the curiosity to still learn more, and the independence of collaboration balanced with individual effort. I’m constantly reassured I’ll never become bored, sedentary, or unmotivated. With MIT course 6-7, I’m grateful for the opportunity to pursue both interests without needing to sacrifice one for the other. At MIT, we bring people together to better the lives of others. MIT students work to improve their communities in different ways, from tackling the world’s biggest challenges to being a good friend. Describe one way in which you have contributed to your community, whether in your family, the classroom, your neighborhood, etc. (200-250 words) Word count: 222/250 At camp, I get paid in George B’s smiles. It’s a currency not exactly useful at the grocery store, but still more than welcome in my book. It’s priceless. Dressed in my counselor shirt, I start the day slumped over. I’m berating myself for not going to sleep earlier the night before, but my thoughts are interrupted when George enters the YMCA gym. I spring up and race to his wheelchair. “GOOOOD MORNINGGGGG!” He smiles just a bit in response to my morning enthusiasm. I open my backup reserves of energy just to see another smile. As the day passes, I’m jumping, singing, and smiling alone in a room of counselors and campers who are contrastingly acting according to the hour: they’re tired, and it’s early. It’s embarrassing, and I can feel the eyes staring, but each time George smiles in response and looks at me, there’s no greater feeling of validation. He’s happy, excited, and for a moment, his spastic quadriplegic cerebral palsy doesn’t exist. It’s my first time volunteering at this camp but third summer of working with special needs individuals. I remember my first year when the camp head told us during training, “This week at camp is probably going to be your camper’s best week of the year.” Honestly, those were my best weeks of the year too. Describe the world you come from; for example, your family, clubs, school, community, city, or town. How has that world shaped your dreams and aspirations? (200-250 words) Word Count: 234/250 Growing up, I didn’t understand the satisfaction behind my parents’ 9-5 computer science job. Consequently, I made the poorly-grounded resolution to look everywhere - but computer science - for a passion. It worked. Years of biology groundwork culminated into a grand moment. I stood in a room full of professors, graduates, and parents, presenting a powerpoint on my glioblastoma cell research. In 15 slides, the last six weeks of frustration, support, and maturation came alive. I had found a path and a talent: biochemistry. Simultaneously, influenced by a natural curiosity, I decided it was now-or-never to try computer science. I took AP Computer Science and competed in the Science Olympiad event, “Game On.” I overcame my rudimentary computer science experience and found myself appreciating the class and loving the event. I stood on the MIT Science Olympiad stage and one month later the UPenn stage, realizing a future in computer science wasn’t such a stretch. I discovered a second calling. Since I can remember, I’ve been told to pick a direction and stick to it. I tried. But years later, I realized how this expectation to isolate “a” passion was unrealistic. From biochemistry to computer science, I’ve never enjoyed a one-track path. I have a foundation of experience and opportunities I cherish, because ultimately, I grew to become open-minded. Immersed in the diversity of the MIT campus, community, and courses, I aspire to preserve this mindset. Tell us about the most significant challenge you’ve faced or something important that didn’t go according to plan. How did you manage the situation? (200-250 words) Word Count: 250/250 The thought of months of late-nights and an entire winter break down the drain terrified me, a productivity-bot dedicated to maximizing function. But five tedious hours since anyone had touched the paper, each idea now meant a temporary smile and a greater feeling of hopelessness. I stared at our MIT Inspire Research Competition rough draft deflated, determined to resuscitate the paper I realized was flatlining. It fundamentally lacked a “novel idea.” Since the realization, hour one was spent scrutinizing the paper, while hour two contained a frantic google wormhole to find inspiration. Hours three, four, and five were spent debating ultimately fruitless solutions until hour six. The library silent and the Christmas tree turned off, I sat mind-numb with a partner who stared back in silence. Churning out another idea became increasingly difficult. The two of us had resorted to silent brainstorming, and I constantly resisted the thought of giving up. The stakes and emotional investment were just too high. Finally, after countless failed attempts, we persevered our way to inspiration. During the dark drive home, I laughed at how terrifyingly close I was to calling it quits. If you looked at the document’s blank revision history, the day was an unproductive failure. If you looked at my face, you’d think I’d won the lottery. I knew every second of frustration and failed idea that day was necessary for us to come up with the resolution that left me excited to continue and proud of where the paper could go.
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There’s only one thing on my mind - the fact this fanny pack isn’t fitting around my waist the same way it had yesterday. Today, it’s nauseatingly tight and that’s all I can think about. The way it hugs the gap between my sweater and shorts, but I don’t loosen it. If I do, the camera and phone it protects will bounce when I begin my run.
So I start. Headphones in both ears, I unzip the outer pocket and take out the camera. The first picture: a radio tower. It’s bright and I can barely hear the red light it emits. I slow my pace to a standstill and freeze my arms waiting for the camera to focus. I feel the mosquitos playing with my hair and tickling my legs, and I’m grateful for the bug spray I had roused previously. The first photo. Two miles away a girl and a boy saw that same light. It was their last evening together and only they knew why. It was cold and dark and he brought her closer to his seated chest. Her mind was wandering, telling him about the future life she predicted he would have. One that didn’t include her. He would have a house where that red light was, a swimmer son named Jeffrey and two outdoor dogs. He listened to her drone on and only interrupted to tell her the light wasn’t on the ground. It was from a radio tower. She listened briefly, smitten from how he seemed to know every secret of the world. Then she shut up and together they watched it blink on. A forever they would never have. I shove the camera back into the bag, swing it around my waist so the pouch is against my back and I pick up the pace. I pull out one earbud, introducing a cacophony or Alesia Cara in one ear and the abandoned coast in the other. The sun still relents against the waves bringing shards of light on the fire hazed distance. I feel the heat burning against my legs and wonder why I didn’t bother putting sunscreen on my legs. It never even crossed my mind. Would my legs grow old and wrinkly from the sun damage? I stop again at a tunnel. 15 ft long and outlined by sheets of metal. I wait for a couple to pass before taking a photo, lest they think I’m photographing them. As they pass I play the mental game: tourist or local. I have no clue. This tunnel, marker 0.5 mile on the coastal trail, is where a little girl tried to run away. She crossed the street to this park and ran to the shelter of this tunnel. It was a very public tunnel, and everyone who walked this trail passed her by, but she didn’t worry about getting caught. It was an escape from a collapsing family. As the tunnel became history I heard why she never stayed. It was too loud and it scared her. The train running above the tunnel rattled the metal and echoed around, narrowing into her crying body. She was home before dinner. I’m done coming up with stories, and I return to the life around me. The trees have opened to a clearing and I decide to climb down to the coast. I trip on the grass and catch myself on the rocks below, nearly scratching the camera roped to my wrist. The bugs bother me, the ones that can’t sit still on the muddy waves. I step off the rocks and instantly regret it. I ground myself before pulling my sunken shoe out of the suctioning mud and retreat. I’m running, but I still haven’t sweat. Every time I take a step I feel the strap pulling against my belly button. It’s hot and still as nauseating, but I don’t stop. Maybe this way the food will come up and I won’t have to worry about the excess calories anymore. So then the final thing I see, before hitting the three mile mark and deciding to call the run quits. On one side the ocean, but the other side homes. Houses with backyards and two sides of fences, because for some reason it was more worth to build each fence to separate our one neighbor, and leave the back end open to the infinite public who viewed their home like another attraction on the hike. Within the two walls were another four. Much taller, there was a basketball court inside the backyard that seemed to nearly fill the yard itself. It looked funny and I imagined a young boy sitting inside it, people watching the tourists run by. Did the fence make him feel safe? No more daydreams. My legs are getting sunburnt and my stomach still nauseous. My camera goes back into the fanny pack and I check the time. Oh shit. It’s 10 PM. Welcome to Alaska. tldr: i love you mom You really take it for granted.The truth is, last year should've been the last mothers day in a long while that I would get to actually spend with my mother and family. Covid-19 decided differently and this year, I got to spend mother's day at home. So naturally, I went all out. Here are a couple of things I decided to make for my mom. Theme: Guangzhou food from when my mom and I went to Guangzhou last summer Dishes1. Tanghulu 2. Sauteed onions, bell peppers, & cabbage (veggies lol) 3. Tang yuan (soup made with jiu niang, egg, tapioca balls, dates, and goji berries) 4&9. Japanese souffle pancake (topped with greek yogurt, melted chocolate & strawberries) 5&6. Cheung fen (added green onions after microwaving because they tended to stick weird) 7. Baked 5 spice popcorn chicken (added a ketchup, honey, black vinegar, & sriracha sauce coating) 8. Black sesame & nut candy (added peanuts & cashews, halved the sugar) Additional notes- took about 6 hours to a full day to do everything
- tanhulu aka the candied fruit ended up not coating properly so it was just fruit and sugar syrup which honestly was still bomb - papa chieng a.k.a the harshest critic VERY MUCH enjoyed EVERY SINGLE DISH. Can we take a moment because this was a very significant, magical feat. I dare you to try and get him to say that about your cooking. - souffle pancakes kinda deflated after a few hours, we're a little..dry(?) - black sesame candy was pretty sweet but the nuttiness and the bitter from the black sesame made it OK - greek yogurt is an amazing pancake topper for added protein - cheung fen took so. much. time. to make lol - bought my mom an ergonomic mouse off amazon and she really liked it aka I killed mothers day this year :) For the past year, I've been a youtube posting fiend. I've posted pretty much weekly for the past year and am at 1,333 subscribers and 93 public videos as of 4/26/2020. Excluding videos I've since made private, excluding videos coming soon ;). It's been a big time investment, but it's also been a constant in my life.
It wasn't until about 2 weeks ago that my channel qualified to be monetized, and last I checked, (this morning..), I had made a whopping $9.99. Honestly, I was sure I had passed the $10 mark by now. I guess not. But, despite the slow and steady growth of this channel over the past year, and the fact that I'm just beginning to get any return, however small, I still post every week, and invest a decent amount of my time into filming and editing the videos. Recently, I realized it had been over a year since I started posting consistently, and I realized that while I don't view youtube as a big part of my life, it honestly has been. When people ask me about myself, I talk about life at MIT, trying to get back into figure skating, or how much I love studying at coffee shops. "I make youtube videos" or "I'm a youtuber" has never crossed my mind as important enough to make that list, even though honestly, it really should. Sure, I don't have the numbers and channel stats that would wow a person when they found my channel, but the amount of consistent time and dedication that I've poured into it weekly tells another story. Every week, finals or travel, happy or sad, I have a video ready to post by Saturday. Sometimes it feels like a chore and other-times, I'm sitting there going through clips when a pile of homework and studying lays in the back of my mind for "after editing". Absolutely, addicted. Sometimes I have videos lined up for the next month. Other-times, Youtube feels like a job and I'm running behind on a deadline. It's funny, because I've made so many life choices like "I'm going to start this workout challenge" or "I'm going to go keto for 2 weeks" partially to make a fun video. I don't always love it. Sometimes, I have to remind myself and be more cognizant of choices I'm making for the sake of a video over wanted to actually do something. Most of the time, I love it 110%. But, it's also changed who I am, a lot more than I realized. I cope with a lot by sitting in front of my phone and recording a video that ultimately gets deleted before anyone ever sees it. Sometimes it's 2 am, and I'm recording a video for my future self telling her about something I regret and "not to make the same mistake again." Other-times, I'm really excited about something so I make a self TED Talk that probably really isn't TED talk worthy, but still. I play around with what I'm comfortable with showing the internet and how much I'm willing to share. Always, I remember that Youtube is another form of social media. For me, the hardest part of Youtube has been being able to look back with so much detail. Vlogs capture past states and although they are edited and the clips carefully selected, I can see myself and remember who that person was. #memories, but also #whydon'tIlooklikethatanymore. It's really frustrating to look back, especially when I'm at a local minimum in life, and think "I used to be so much skinnier", " I used to___" and it makes looking and editing current clips even harder. Personally, it's a really unexpected "negative" to posting on social media because it's self-critique. I've been really lucky to get a lot of positivity from comments and the harshest viewer of my videos is probably, honestly, myself. But in the end, May 10, 2020 I posted my first sponsored video, and I'm at 1456 subscribers. Onwards and upwards. XOXO, Sarah
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WOW! It feels like I've been baking non-stop since this quarantine started and honestly, I'm loving it. I've been baking with a lot of bananas and greek yogurt as substitutes for ingredients like sugar, butter, milk, etc and it's been so fun to experiment. I would definitely recommend playing around with common recipes since bananas are SO naturally sweet (and tasty ;) ) and greek yogurt is a great way to add creaminess/moistness and PROTEIN to recipes for a much lower calorie count. Accordingly, I thought that I would share a fun scone recipe that I adapted from https://www.ambitiouskitchen.com/healthy-blueberry-greek-yogurt-scones/. I combined all of the ingredients into a dough (lol it's not a complex process but realistically this really is all I did), rolled it into a ball and cut it pizza-wise into 8 pieces before putting them in the oven. I made 2 rounds from the recipe and added chocolate chips to one and nuts/seeds/raisins to the other. Before putting them in the oven, I sprayed the tops with cooking oil and sprinkled some sugar on top:)
Baked these boys for 20 minutes at 400 degrees. Ate around 5 scones that evening haha. At MIT, January is termed an "Independent Activities Period" where students are allowed to spend the month in whatever manner they see fit. Some students take classes, some travel, some intern, and some choose the perfectly valid route of staying home and spending extra time with family. For me, this past January was my first IAP, and although I dropped out of one class, passed another class by 0.01%, and cried multiple times due to stress, it was an amazing month worth writing about.
When I look back at exactly what I accomplished and how productive I was, the above demonstrates that my classes didn't go exactly as planned. Nonetheless, a lot happened during IAP underneath the grades (or lack thereof since I "No record"-ed my class). During January, I set a goal of learning web development, and subsequently took the corresponding class. In the class, you and your partner were supposed to finish the course with a final website/product that demonstrated your newly learned skills and followed a criteria of features. For the first week of IAP, my partner and I attended every weblab class before concluding that no matter how hard we tried to pay attention, the lectures were not resonating with us and attending them was a waste of time. So, week 2, we got up in the mornings and tried to power through the web development module on our Codecademy pro 7-day free trials. The two of us were learning at our own pace and according to our own style, a luxury we don't get during the regular school-year. Next, I learned something about quality over quantity. I entered IAP and bit off way more than I could chew. It turns out, I hadn't learned my lesson when during semester one, I also bit off more than I could chew and had to go through a commitment-cleansing process. I knew I was missing the last week of IAP and had to finish classes early, and yet I signed up for three classes, registered for a PE, started a UROP (Undergraduate Research ~something~ ~something~ or attempted to), and tried to have a great social life. It really didn't work out. I wasn't getting in enough free-time, and I was not waking up excited to literally die from stress. So I cut a class, explained to the UROP professor my miscalculation, and tried my best in the remaining two classes. I’m more confident that by now, I understand that doing more at 25% potential each is far from best. Away from classes, I learned a lot about friendship. More specifically, I had a lot of moments when I realized how kind and generous so many people in my life were. Like Michael who would come back to campus from his internship at 6:00 PM and still help me on the weblab project from 6:00 - 10:00 PM despite it not being his assignment at all. Or A who showed up in my room at 2:30 AM when I was having a life crisis filled with dissatisfaction and the rude awakening that life wasn't going to stay rainbows and butterflies forever. And then, there was this weird idea of accountability that started popping up. Accountability to do the dishes and wash communal pans in a timely manner, even when life gets really busy or you're (lowkey) lazy. Accountability to friendships that could be better if you put in more effort -- like being a more responsive texter and following through on plans. And an accountability to be honest to yourself and others. Lastly, initiative. Over IAP, I moved into a new dorm of people who had already established a community the semester before. It was my chance to define myself and I realized how important it is to "introduce yourself." I introduced myself to the people on my floor, to the front desk worker that I kept running into, and I kid I had always seen around but had still never said hi to. At the end of IAP, I think I became a better friend to a lot of people. I think I was also able to recognize the friendships that needed more appreciation and attention, and form so many new ones that I know are going to really define next semester I understand better the idea of balancing my work with my happiness and realize that it's not the longest resume that wins. But okay, let's be real, going to Limered Teahause with Linda, riding a BlueBike for the first time, going to Café Nero and Newbury shopping with Nina, ordering sushi and watching the Three Idiots with Traders, making matcha mochi waffles with Julia, spending 6 hours to make truffles with Julia, going Hmart shopping with Helen and Brigette, getting up early to make Michael lunch, making my suite dinner, baking without a recipe with Andy, and oh yeah, going to Hawaii for a week, also played a giant role in why I loved IAP so much. Either way, IAP's over, school's starting, but it really was a very special time of the year :) Holy crap how did SO MUCH happen in 2019. It was a wild year and just...wow.
January: Hiked Enchanted Rock with the cousins, Named a Regeneron Science & Talent Search Semifinalist, Competed at MIT's SciO Invitational and placed the highest I had ever before (1st,2nd,2nd,3rd) and met Petey. February: Competed at UPenn's SciO Invitational March: Went to Las Vegas for Spring Break (best vacation of my life), Traveled to College Station to compete at Science Fair State April: Attended MIT Campus Preview Week, turned 18 May: Spontaneous day trip to LA June: Interned for one month at Nanohmics, July: Hiked in Alaska, Lived in Fuzhou, China for a month (got tea at the Four Seasons, ate in Guangzhou's Buxing Street) August: Spoke in Austin's Chinese Community's College Panel, Moved to Boston September: October: Went hiking in New Hampshire November: Spent the weekend at Cape Cod, Surprised my mom and cousin by going home for Thanksgiving break, Saw REAL SNOW in Cambridge, Built my first legit snowman December: Cruised to Jamaica -> Cayman Islands -> Mexico Have you heard the sun crawl up the horizons? I haven’t. In the mornings, the cackle of her fires are masked by our box fan that runs through the night. Balanced precariously in the corner, it’s become routine. “Can you plug in the fan before you sleep?” my roommates and I say to each other, before dispersing to our own midnight worlds. All through the night, the fan’s strong rhythmic beats mask the depths of our sighs and furious undercover jostles, going strong into the morning. Day in and day out, our extraterrestrial friend’s arrival goes unheard.
So then I ask. Have you smelled the sun’s arrival? Have you smelled the char on the tips of your toes -- the same five toes that peek out beyond your covers as you laid asleep. Angled at the perfect position, they nestle on your sheets just past the shade of your window blinds. Your thermal-harmony is slightly unbalanced, but asleep, you don’t notice. You smell the dew-drops evaporate from their nocturnal stay, but this does little to arouse your thoughts. I don’t notice. Breath in, breath out. My focus lies elsewhere. Then maybe, you’ve seen the sun stretch its rays to selectively illuminate the room, though only briefly. However, probably not. Through your dream shut eyes, your arm slaps around the sides of your bed. You grab onto the first touch of cool pillowcase. Quickly, you bury your face until the pillow and all motion goes dormant. You’ve returned to sleep. But not me. Half-awake at first, I watch her crawl up the horizon. I watch her tickle my charred toes, and I imagine the dew drops outside shrivel under her heat. Snuggled warmly under my covers, I watch the sun rise. I follow. I throw the covers aside, and feel the warmth of her rays counter the cold of the Cambridge weather. My footsteps are damped by the padding of my slippers and the box fan. I tuck my laptop under my arms, hang the keychain of my headphones over my pointer finger, and grab the water bottle that sits on my desk. Coffee shop soloists pass through my ears. At this hour, my only friend sits outside, slowly rising. Sometimes, the water in the tea kettle starts to boil, and I watch the steam escape, as I prepare my early morning snack. I type focusedly on my keyboard the essays I’ve pushed back or the emails I’ve opened but starred for later. There’s no rush and every once in a while I raise my head to check on my friend. Outside the window, she continues her ascent. Horizontal line by horizontal line I cross off my todo list. Upload notes, edit the blog, email Amanda, or organize my google drive. One by one the mental sewage clears. Other days start with coffee fueled mornings. Before moving to college, the smell of Austin’s local coffee shop’s, Stouthous’s, almond milk latte would shake through my body. I would set down my short wine glass placed perfectly on the napkin before pushing my body into the iron weighed stubborn chairs. The bars connecting the chair legs would scrape against the concrete and you could almost see the chandelier grimace from the sound. I’d slide into my seat before picking up my glass again to take a slow sip. My teeth would block the crushed ice from joining their coffee counterparts in my mouth. I notice the bartender in front of me calling out the orders of elderly readers who sit by the Christmas tree and business men in suits who need a quick fix. To my left the expansive glass windows welcome my friend inside. I’m ready to work. Today, we are in Cambridge and the trek to coffee is on foot. Backpack strapped securely, I walk to Darwins, breathing in the early morning traffic. The heels of my boots tap - tap - tap until I hear the jingle of the door open to Darwin’s. “Small latte with almond milk for here” I recite, as I pull out my wallet by the blue Baker House lanyard, a reminder that this isn’t Texas anymore. I sit down near the window and watch the bustle of people filter through. Across the room, a mother spills her water bottle as she maneuvers her naive baby boy through the tables. Quickly, the people around her push back their chairs. Unionized, they collect the stray napkins lying around, temporarily forgetting the tasks plastered on their laptops. They have time to spare. My eyes are distracted on the son who doesn’t seem the notice the legion of strangers gathered around his stroller. Eventually, I pull out my water bottle from the side pocket of my backpack. I unzip the largest pocket to pull out my laptop, and I shove my hand down the outer net pocket to pull out a pack of gum. I take a sip of my coffee, licking the rim of my upper lip to erase the residue of my coffee’s foam cap. I smile and reconfirm that Darwin’s coffee remains superior to Flour’s and Starbucks’. I gradually pry open my laptop, careful not to loosen the screen’s hinges and begin. These hours escape the normal rush and pressures of time -- a gift to those who wake themselves before meetings and classes catch up and step on the heels of their feet -- a time when even the birds sing a little slower but just as heartily -- a moment to cherish the arrival of the overlooked sun. So join me one morning, and watch her return. Together, we will lift our heads from our laptops, journals, or pillows to bask in her shining and golden prowess. We’ll take a deep breath and remember what life was like before we tripped on our schedules and slept with our brows tangled from stress. |
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