Top Five Favorites: Lessons and Photos from 2023

You can’t do everything

I’m making a peanut butter sandwich and painting our marquee board in the New South dance studio after a 5-hour 7-am morning rehearsal

It was my second year as publicity chair for Six14, the campus dance ministry I’ve been a part of since freshman year. It was also my first time choreographing, and two weeks before the show, I decided to completely recreate my piece, packing everything into the few days of spring break before our 3-day bootcamp, while also cramming for my macroeconomics midterm just a day after: I was overwhelmed by the number of times I told myself and others “I can do it,” as though the moment I said "no" would cap my capabilities. To quote one song from my music cut, that week made it clear that “I am only human.” I realized that, no matter how great my talent or driven my work ethic, I can’t do everything. And admitting that freed me to focus on what I can and love to do.

Relationships are cultivated, not found

Birthday surprise :)

It’s not a super deep lesson but one I’m reminded of time and time again. I felt alone for most of college, and while some of that is explained by a relatively small student body (Princeton has ~7000 undergrads), a lot of it was in my head: I believed there was no one I could get close to and so did nothing to deepen relationships I already had. I expected friendship to appear spontaneously, effortlessly, like puzzle pieces that marched into place right as they fell from the box. Sure, I put in effort. A lot of effort, initially. But when things felt “wrong” (i.e. not how they were back in high school) I gave up trying.

I’ve been blessed with good friends, some I’ve had falling outs with but who were still willing to talk and make things better, who endured the “wrong” with me because of the “right” that laid at the end.

What I like about traveling

Europe squad in London

I used to avoid traveling if I could, preferring my comfy couch and tv combo to anywhere else. But after three years of college had made me more outgoing, I agreed to go with three friends to London, Rome, and the Amalfi Coast, the first time I’d ever traveled with people other than my family. During my trip, I’ve learned that traveling, for both better and worse, pulls the rug of habit from beneath you, redefining the most basic assumptions—like the one that all restaurants offer free water, or all stores accept credit card. Traveling, surprisingly, was more tiring than restful, which dropped filters and raised tensions within our group. While those factors made traveling difficult, it opened me to different ways of thinking and deepened my understanding of my friends, an experience I could never have from my couch.

Someone similar but different

I sent her photos of the trees outside Firestone

It was never official and only lasted a couple of months, but it was the first time I felt good liking someone. That sounds weird, but it’s what comes to mind: She didn’t play games so I never felt anxious; I messed up a ton but never felt judged; and when we spoke, my world grew bigger. She gave me a new perspective on dance, my go-to coffee order, a craving for caramelized coconut meat sold at every vendor-frocked corner of Manhattan. It made me realize I don’t want to be with someone who is similar enough to me, but rather, someone who is different enough. Similar, but different.

Confrontation: When it counts

Starving Senior Meal Plan :’)

This was simultaneously the hardest but best rooming situation I’ve ever had on campus—and it was like that, mostly, intentionally. Sophomore year, although there were obvious issues that I wanted fixed, I swept them under the rug to avoid problems and awkwardness that might follow confrontation. This year, my roommate Andrew told me to anticipate these tough conversations, not because he had something against me, but because our friendship is important enough that it’s worth the cost of confrontation. I think that’s a better metric for relationship success: Not the number of inside jokes or Instagram tags, but rather the number of difficult conversations two people are willing to have with one other.