Recently I’ve been reflecting on my undergraduate experience as it pertains to my future. Here’s what I’ve learned/ thought of:
1. The tests and exams and deadlines suck. They really do. But really, SUCK IT UP and be appreciative that you have the opportunity to learn. Some people work their butts off to get the education that you’re getting. Your problems at school are good problems to have.
2. Moreover, be more-than-appreciative that you have the opportunity to learn from professors who are experts in their field, And don’t just be appreciative of them – engage with them. Talk. Get to know them. They’re older than you and have more experience (obviously) in their field, so they could teach you a thing or two, or become your mentor/adviser. I sincerely regret not getting to know a professor, who happened to be the previous Dean of Annenberg, of two classes I took – one in 2005, one in 2009. He’s brilliant, charming, enthusiastic, passionate, and overzealous about what he teaches, that Geoffrey Cowan, and yet I was always too intimidated/scared to go into his Office Hours for fear of sounding incompetent in his presence. Only now do I realize that he’s either on the Chair/Board/President of/Founder of/Grand Wizard Master of various orgs I’m interested in.
3. Meet lots of people. It’s fun for your social life, especially if they are from different circles. I have friends who were RAs, Greek socialites, GDIs, Annenbergers, advisers, and they’ve all enriched my life in so many ways. Secondly, they’ll be your network when you graduate.
4. Befriend good people who are achievers. They’ll subconsciously motivate you to do your best. Surround yourself with positive people and go-getters, and you’ll find yourself acting/being the same way. I have a friend who is the same age as me, but she is my role model. Sometimes she astounds me so much with all the activities in which she is involved as well as her stellar, caring personality, that I am often in awe that she is my friend. In certain problematic situations I’ll ask myself what she’d do to find the right answer.
5. Oh, befriend international students. They are so cool to talk to. The accents rock, yea, but I’ve found that some of the coolest people I met at SC were the int’l kids. They’ve grown up often in a country with different ideals, and it’s so incredibly fascinating to swap stories and gain perspective about the world outside your own. If you can’t study abroad, meet the people. Exchange culture. Your finest tools for exploring the world are right at your fingertips if you just seek to meet and befriend them.
6. Help the younger ones (freshmen) out with your words-of-wisdom. It’ll make you feel good but will also remind you of how far you’ve come, how much you’ve changed, how much you’ve grown in the few months/years you’ve been in school. It’ll ground you and force you to realize that we’re all on the same boat. You’re not better than someone because you’re older than him/her.
7. Embrace diversity.
8. College flies by soooo fast. It’s only been months after I’ve graduated and I can already say that college was the best time of my life. Even if I go back for my Master’s, my experience will not measure to my undergrad days when I could meet up with my friends at 3am to play Rockband; have midnight pancake parties; walk to the Colliseum for a football game without having to worry about parking; party at “Club Leavey Library” haha; splash around in the USC fountains; play capture-the-flag at midnight; go to a roller rink with 2 hours notice of the event; etc. etc. College. It rocks.
9. USC is a fine, fine institution and I couldn’t thank my parents enough for affording me the opportunity to go there. I love my alma mater.
10. Pursue what you’re interested in and do what you know IN YOUR HEART what you love to do. Listen to Robert Frost: take the road less traveled. Listen to Franz Wisner: if given the choice between two paths, choose the machete. Just freakin’ listen up! You only have one shot at life, so do it right and do it with passion. Listen to yourself.
11. Call your friends from home and return their calls. It’s common courtesy. You know each other. Plus, they know the old you and could probably blackmail you…just kidding, sort of.
12. Forgive and forget all that is involved in high school drama. It’s old and done with. There’s more drama likely to be made, and even if that’s not true, it’s just a burden to hold onto grudges. Apologize. Kiss and make up. People change!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Meaning of Being an RA
" I want you to know that I talk about my RA 'Kristina' on every one of my tours and all the floor bonding we did. Little do they know I wasn't even there technically..."
-Hercules "USC Tour Guide/Honorary BK5 Member" Walker
What prompted me to write this post is the aforementioned quote that Hercules posted on my
Facebook wall just a few hours ago. Herc was an honorary resident of the floor for which I RA'd when I was a sophomore, and yes, when I first met him, I asked if "Hercules" really was his real name, too (it is). He's now a USC Tour Guide and speaks to probably hundreds of wannabe Trojans daily. I really, really appreciate his words.
In the end, being an RA at USC was worth every single hour spent babysitting immature freshmen; sitting in arguably pointless hours of meeting after meeting; feeling terrified that I'd be caught at a campus-party; waking up at 4am to herd hordes of my fuming peers out to the chilly street during yet another piercing fire alarm, caused by an overcooked egg or something stupid like that; missing nights out with my girls or racing back to my designated building to be on duty ("AGAIN?!"); devoting more time to cooking food for my residents than preparing for that 30%-of-my-grade final the next day; stressing out over events and outings that would mean nothing on my resume or transcript; initially feeling that I missed out on my sophomore year because all my friends lived together and I lived in a freshman dorm...all that, and more (I didn't even mention write-ups! And paperwork!).
True, being an RA was often a hassle. But the two years during which I wore that hat were worth it. Hands down, no doubt.
I always told prospective RA's that taking on the role of an RA is also signing on to a life change. No longer can you recklessly party at odd hours, whenever and wherever. You have to watch your actions and words because someone -- be it your resident, staff member, AC/AD/RC/ARC, or someone from Central Staff at ResEd --will be watching you. Make a wrong move and you could get sent to SJACS and lose your job. Little did I know that taking on the role, though I was no longer a "normal" student, allowed for my life to be changed because of the people I met and allowed me to impact the lives of people I'd encountered.
My first year as an RA was at Birnkrant Residential College, where I lived my freshman year. Loved that place, which is why I returned as a sophomore. I RA'd for freshman, some of whom were older than me in age, for a whole year, which was my most favorite year during my three years of college. I was lonely in the beginning of the year because I missed my own friends; people who had occupied the same rooms a year earlier were now filled with those who looked to me as an authority figure (me? an authority? baha.). But sooner than later, thesover and all of you were from hell or something like that. e people became my friends, and some of my best memories stem from them. Thanks to all of you. Thanks for vomiting in the girl's sink the first night you moved in and made me have a nervous breakdown. Now, it's funny. Thanks for all the cuties on my floor who offered their arms to me when I was terrified at the Knott's Scary Farm trip I had planned. Oh, speaking of which, thanks for being dubbed "the naked floor." I enjoyed the abs. Thanks for Greek food at Papa Cristo's with the little guy himself; the pizza party and contraband at the end of the year; the awkward bonfire at the end of the year. Thanks for teaching me how to play the guitar, for allowing me to experience what it's like to be a Mom of teenagers, because really, I worried about you (note to self: wait to have kids)! Thanks for jumping in the shower and giving me a soaked hug on our last night, dog-piling me onto my bed, where you girls spent countless hours watching GG and ANTM, even when I wasn't there. Thanks for eating with me at EVK; for walking with me to The Row; obsessing over The Trojan Men with me; for making my room that much more cozy. All of you rock. BK5 for life.
My third and final year was spent at Troy. It was an apartment complex so I didn't get as close to my residents as I did the previous year, but still, it was a blast. Despite the what, 20+ fire alarms we had throughout the course of the year. UGH. And despite the countless times I got lost in the halls, I loved it there. I loved that my floor was mostly all guys and therefore I didn't have to do a lot of roommate counseling. Ya'll fought it out on your own. I loved cooking for you and forcing you to eat the leftovers because Lord knew I didn't need the extra pizza when there were boys-who-survived-off-cereal-and Ramen who lived a few doors down. I knew a lot of the residents there because a lot of them lived in Birnkrant, which made Troy all-the-more-homely...although honestly, breaking up your parties was really weird. I'd walk into a party like, "Alright, this music has got to st-- Cindy?! Is that YOU?! OMG! HOW ARE YOU?!" -_- Life.
What made my experiences even MORE great were the staff teams. Birnkrant was so fun. I'm so glad I got to meet the people on my staff. My "boss" Christine is now a dear friend, someone whom I call "jie," which means "older sister" in Chinese. And to the Troy staff: what can I say. We all know that I waterworked it at our end-of-the-year luncheon, but that pretty much summed up how much fun I had with ya'll. Hell, I spent my last night of college running around the empty building with you, playing hide-n-seek, chillin' in an elevator with Hitomi and waiting to be found. Tronding. Rock Band. Devos. Slip-n-slide. Bonfire. Wan Won. No-No, thanks for going to the football games with me. BBQing. Non-birthday cakes during training. Cake stands. I knew we'd all get along well from day one. "JEALOUS?!" Hell yea, I'm jealous I'm not a part of the staff this year.
It's quite obvious that I'm in reminiscence-mode right now, but it feels good to tell all of you this and encourage those who are still RAs to cherish the experience. I've graduated and miss it so much. There are a lot of things you have to give up in order to be an RA, but the rewards are endless and gratifying beyond measure.
And thanks, Herc, for sharing with me. I don't think many RAs take the position for the recognition...but the recognition means a lot.
-Hercules "USC Tour Guide/Honorary BK5 Member" Walker
What prompted me to write this post is the aforementioned quote that Hercules posted on my
Facebook wall just a few hours ago. Herc was an honorary resident of the floor for which I RA'd when I was a sophomore, and yes, when I first met him, I asked if "Hercules" really was his real name, too (it is). He's now a USC Tour Guide and speaks to probably hundreds of wannabe Trojans daily. I really, really appreciate his words.
In the end, being an RA at USC was worth every single hour spent babysitting immature freshmen; sitting in arguably pointless hours of meeting after meeting; feeling terrified that I'd be caught at a campus-party; waking up at 4am to herd hordes of my fuming peers out to the chilly street during yet another piercing fire alarm, caused by an overcooked egg or something stupid like that; missing nights out with my girls or racing back to my designated building to be on duty ("AGAIN?!"); devoting more time to cooking food for my residents than preparing for that 30%-of-my-grade final the next day; stressing out over events and outings that would mean nothing on my resume or transcript; initially feeling that I missed out on my sophomore year because all my friends lived together and I lived in a freshman dorm...all that, and more (I didn't even mention write-ups! And paperwork!).
True, being an RA was often a hassle. But the two years during which I wore that hat were worth it. Hands down, no doubt.
I always told prospective RA's that taking on the role of an RA is also signing on to a life change. No longer can you recklessly party at odd hours, whenever and wherever. You have to watch your actions and words because someone -- be it your resident, staff member, AC/AD/RC/ARC, or someone from Central Staff at ResEd --will be watching you. Make a wrong move and you could get sent to SJACS and lose your job. Little did I know that taking on the role, though I was no longer a "normal" student, allowed for my life to be changed because of the people I met and allowed me to impact the lives of people I'd encountered.
My first year as an RA was at Birnkrant Residential College, where I lived my freshman year. Loved that place, which is why I returned as a sophomore. I RA'd for freshman, some of whom were older than me in age, for a whole year, which was my most favorite year during my three years of college. I was lonely in the beginning of the year because I missed my own friends; people who had occupied the same rooms a year earlier were now filled with those who looked to me as an authority figure (me? an authority? baha.). But sooner than later, thesover and all of you were from hell or something like that. e people became my friends, and some of my best memories stem from them. Thanks to all of you. Thanks for vomiting in the girl's sink the first night you moved in and made me have a nervous breakdown. Now, it's funny. Thanks for all the cuties on my floor who offered their arms to me when I was terrified at the Knott's Scary Farm trip I had planned. Oh, speaking of which, thanks for being dubbed "the naked floor." I enjoyed the abs. Thanks for Greek food at Papa Cristo's with the little guy himself; the pizza party and contraband at the end of the year; the awkward bonfire at the end of the year. Thanks for teaching me how to play the guitar, for allowing me to experience what it's like to be a Mom of teenagers, because really, I worried about you (note to self: wait to have kids)! Thanks for jumping in the shower and giving me a soaked hug on our last night, dog-piling me onto my bed, where you girls spent countless hours watching GG and ANTM, even when I wasn't there. Thanks for eating with me at EVK; for walking with me to The Row; obsessing over The Trojan Men with me; for making my room that much more cozy. All of you rock. BK5 for life.
My third and final year was spent at Troy. It was an apartment complex so I didn't get as close to my residents as I did the previous year, but still, it was a blast. Despite the what, 20+ fire alarms we had throughout the course of the year. UGH. And despite the countless times I got lost in the halls, I loved it there. I loved that my floor was mostly all guys and therefore I didn't have to do a lot of roommate counseling. Ya'll fought it out on your own. I loved cooking for you and forcing you to eat the leftovers because Lord knew I didn't need the extra pizza when there were boys-who-survived-off-cereal-and Ramen who lived a few doors down. I knew a lot of the residents there because a lot of them lived in Birnkrant, which made Troy all-the-more-homely...although honestly, breaking up your parties was really weird. I'd walk into a party like, "Alright, this music has got to st-- Cindy?! Is that YOU?! OMG! HOW ARE YOU?!" -_- Life.
What made my experiences even MORE great were the staff teams. Birnkrant was so fun. I'm so glad I got to meet the people on my staff. My "boss" Christine is now a dear friend, someone whom I call "jie," which means "older sister" in Chinese. And to the Troy staff: what can I say. We all know that I waterworked it at our end-of-the-year luncheon, but that pretty much summed up how much fun I had with ya'll. Hell, I spent my last night of college running around the empty building with you, playing hide-n-seek, chillin' in an elevator with Hitomi and waiting to be found. Tronding. Rock Band. Devos. Slip-n-slide. Bonfire. Wan Won. No-No, thanks for going to the football games with me. BBQing. Non-birthday cakes during training. Cake stands. I knew we'd all get along well from day one. "JEALOUS?!" Hell yea, I'm jealous I'm not a part of the staff this year.
It's quite obvious that I'm in reminiscence-mode right now, but it feels good to tell all of you this and encourage those who are still RAs to cherish the experience. I've graduated and miss it so much. There are a lot of things you have to give up in order to be an RA, but the rewards are endless and gratifying beyond measure.
And thanks, Herc, for sharing with me. I don't think many RAs take the position for the recognition...but the recognition means a lot.
Honeymoon with my Brother
I just finished re-reading a book called Honeymoon with my Brother by Franz Wisner. I picked up the book probably two years ago at a used-bookstore, and I'm so glad I made that $1 purchase.
I recommend that everyone read this book. It's the story of Franz, a wealthy poster-child of Republicanism, deep from the conservative throes of Newport Beach, esteemed writer and government relations exec for real estate giant, The Irvine Company. He's days away from wedding a girl whom he met during his days on Capitol Hill when he gets dumped. Sucks. Newly single, feeling like crud, and in possession of an all-paid, extra honeymoon ticket to Costa Rica, he decides to take his brother, Kurt, instead. After some brotherly bonding and the all-too-expected high they got from their short traveling stint, Franz and Kurt decide to take two years off from their cookie-cutter lives and travel the world together. They sell most of their belongings and leave their microcosm of a world behind.
And they face the real world. Months spent in Europe, South America, Africa, North America, and Southeast Asia. The book is an account of their hilarious, touching, and actualizing adventures with each other, with strangers, and within themselves as they chuck four-star hotels for hostels; rides in limos for tuk tuks and scooters; swooning with socialites to cavorting with hitchikers. The book is refreshing, funny, and damnit, you become jealous of their lifestyles.
I love this book because Franz hails from Orange County, a community that is all-too-similar to my own hometown and one that prizes characteristics akin to materialism and consumerism that are evident in many students from my alma mater. Franz was immersed in that world, but his travels and encounters with others forced him to re-evaluate. Throughout his travels, we start to see his priorities change. Being in a world that is, as he describes it, plainly poor, he emotes and realizes that money is not everything. That, while people at home in California/USA obsess and complain about the most minuscule and petty things, the majority of those around the world -- those with close to nothing, without shoes, clothes, parents -- are still able to smile bigger, open their doors more quickly, give what limited food they own, and emit more happiness than any American he'd ever encountered.
There's so much more that this book shares and does to the reader. It made me re-assess my career opporunities and think about the potential for which I can use my God-given skills for a greater good. It made me become just a little more disgusted with American consumer/capitalism culture; pitiful for the people who are so focused on making money that they don't stop to smell the roses; hopeful that I can have similar Wisner-adventures in my own life. I know that I have to make money in order to afford the opportunity to travel, and I hope that I will with that goal in mind.
From this book, I've learned that I must, MUST go to Brazil one day. Rio de Janeiro. Carnival. (But I'll go with a guy...or two or three. To be safe.) That Africa is a must-see, especially the safaris, which more clearly demonstrate the order-of-life better than any movie or book we've ever grown up watching or reading. That life is unexepected and the outline I've created for my own may change in an instant, as Franz's did, and that everything, absolutely everything, will turn out alright.
Throughout the book, Franz highlights his conversations and visits with his grandmother, LaRue. She turns 100 at the end of their trip. She lives in a retirement home and when the brothers announce their world trip to her, she and the fellow residents of the Eskaton Retirement Center follow them, read their letters, pinpoint on a map their visits, and hang their pictures in the multipurpose room. They are so excited for the brothers and all say they had wished they had done something similar, gone to that place, how it's a shame it's too late. Their response is a nice change from Wisners' parents, who anxiously question what they will do for money to fund their travles, with their jobs, what they'll do when they get back, when they're going to get married (and have kids), etc. etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Blah.
I can relate. Most people can relate. He writes, "Our parents' generation asks when we're going back to work. Eskaton asks where we're going next." True. Story. I understand why Franz includes his conversations with LaRue and her friends. It's called perspective. Because at the end of the road, what matters are not the numbers of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away. I'm glad I recognize that now.
Read the book. His newest is called How the World Makes Love...and What it Taught a Jilted Groom. Going to read it as soon as I get home.
http://www.honeymoonwithmybrother.com/
I recommend that everyone read this book. It's the story of Franz, a wealthy poster-child of Republicanism, deep from the conservative throes of Newport Beach, esteemed writer and government relations exec for real estate giant, The Irvine Company. He's days away from wedding a girl whom he met during his days on Capitol Hill when he gets dumped. Sucks. Newly single, feeling like crud, and in possession of an all-paid, extra honeymoon ticket to Costa Rica, he decides to take his brother, Kurt, instead. After some brotherly bonding and the all-too-expected high they got from their short traveling stint, Franz and Kurt decide to take two years off from their cookie-cutter lives and travel the world together. They sell most of their belongings and leave their microcosm of a world behind.
And they face the real world. Months spent in Europe, South America, Africa, North America, and Southeast Asia. The book is an account of their hilarious, touching, and actualizing adventures with each other, with strangers, and within themselves as they chuck four-star hotels for hostels; rides in limos for tuk tuks and scooters; swooning with socialites to cavorting with hitchikers. The book is refreshing, funny, and damnit, you become jealous of their lifestyles.
I love this book because Franz hails from Orange County, a community that is all-too-similar to my own hometown and one that prizes characteristics akin to materialism and consumerism that are evident in many students from my alma mater. Franz was immersed in that world, but his travels and encounters with others forced him to re-evaluate. Throughout his travels, we start to see his priorities change. Being in a world that is, as he describes it, plainly poor, he emotes and realizes that money is not everything. That, while people at home in California/USA obsess and complain about the most minuscule and petty things, the majority of those around the world -- those with close to nothing, without shoes, clothes, parents -- are still able to smile bigger, open their doors more quickly, give what limited food they own, and emit more happiness than any American he'd ever encountered.
There's so much more that this book shares and does to the reader. It made me re-assess my career opporunities and think about the potential for which I can use my God-given skills for a greater good. It made me become just a little more disgusted with American consumer/capitalism culture; pitiful for the people who are so focused on making money that they don't stop to smell the roses; hopeful that I can have similar Wisner-adventures in my own life. I know that I have to make money in order to afford the opportunity to travel, and I hope that I will with that goal in mind.
From this book, I've learned that I must, MUST go to Brazil one day. Rio de Janeiro. Carnival. (But I'll go with a guy...or two or three. To be safe.) That Africa is a must-see, especially the safaris, which more clearly demonstrate the order-of-life better than any movie or book we've ever grown up watching or reading. That life is unexepected and the outline I've created for my own may change in an instant, as Franz's did, and that everything, absolutely everything, will turn out alright.
Throughout the book, Franz highlights his conversations and visits with his grandmother, LaRue. She turns 100 at the end of their trip. She lives in a retirement home and when the brothers announce their world trip to her, she and the fellow residents of the Eskaton Retirement Center follow them, read their letters, pinpoint on a map their visits, and hang their pictures in the multipurpose room. They are so excited for the brothers and all say they had wished they had done something similar, gone to that place, how it's a shame it's too late. Their response is a nice change from Wisners' parents, who anxiously question what they will do for money to fund their travles, with their jobs, what they'll do when they get back, when they're going to get married (and have kids), etc. etc. Etc. Etc. Etc. Blah.
I can relate. Most people can relate. He writes, "Our parents' generation asks when we're going back to work. Eskaton asks where we're going next." True. Story. I understand why Franz includes his conversations with LaRue and her friends. It's called perspective. Because at the end of the road, what matters are not the numbers of breaths we take, but the moments that take our breath away. I'm glad I recognize that now.
Read the book. His newest is called How the World Makes Love...and What it Taught a Jilted Groom. Going to read it as soon as I get home.
http://www.honeymoonwithmybrother.com/
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