3. Comb Jellies

  My friend “MB” and I had a conversation about AI after I mentioned my old addiction using an AI chatbot. I mention this because this is the main root for my current and enduring hate for AI. Back in middle school, I was completely hypnotized by the immediate answers to stupid questions about fictional stories, character hypotheticals, etc. I have never used it for academic purposes--rather shamefully, it was for fandom. I make this clear to provide the emotional context for this conversation. I thought our talk was interesting enough to share. This is heavily paraphrased and cut due to our actual conversation being four hours long.  L: You told me you were shocked to see a lot of our fellow students readily lean on AI to do homework, specifically humanities/English homework. Can you elaborate on that?  MB:  A lot of people in my Chem class are using ChatGPT (pronounced “chat-goopt”) to “brainstorm” for their English assignments. I just think it’s stupid. You can’t ...

As we delve further into the school year, tests and quizzes come and go. Certain students will maintain a stoic quality as they push through their days, ignorant of the daily reviewing they should be doing for the college-level courses they are taking on a couple years too early. And in ignoring the concept of studying for an assessment before the night before the test, such students will realize that they are utterly unprepared. Helpless. Kids will so casually choose to not study, prioritizing other matters over the mundanity of review, in such a steadfast and determined manner too! They would rather gouge their eyes out with spoons than crack open a textbook or peek at Collegeboard practice material; they maintain the hardiness and courage of a Greek spartan as they deny the looming threat of a test pummeling their grade.  And thus—carrying this identity of a bold soldier against the barrage of test reminders hurled their way—students will undergo an extreme metamorphosis when th...

 Today in class, we talked about American Identity; what people see as an American identity, and that got me thinking about how being American works. According to my tablemates, the American identity is freedom and anyone who lives in America is American. But what about the immigrants? How does being born in one place and being raised in antoher affect American identity? Discussing this in class was a weird experience, especially because I’m not actually a U.S. citizen like the rest of my peers. On official records, I’m an immigrant. I have a green card I had to renew in February, I have an alien registration number, I have hospital records showing I was born in Singapore. Legally and by blood, I’m Singaporean through and through. My mom and dad were born in Singapore and grew up in Singapore and only came here around a year after I was born. But what does that mean when you know nothing about being Singaporean? My mom sometimes talks to me about Singapore. She talks about th...

...because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." To a select few cultured individuals, these words ring a familiar bell—they are among the opening words of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden , an account of solitary living in the wilderness that has, among other things, served as the motto of American High School’s Dead Poets Society. Thoreau reminds us to confront the basic aspects of life, casting away our premonitions about man-made society and civilization. It is these simple words that prove the most difficult to hear. As juniors in high school, this year is a grand, chaotic cacophony—AP classes, clubs, practices, employment, internships, college applications…and more. We step into a world where we are no longer seen as children, with all the time in the world; now, we are adults in training, and we better start acting like it immediate...

Jaycee Snelson-Week 3: Chameleon Whenever you think of a chameleon what is the first thing you think? To me, my first thought is their special ability to shift colors. They shift from their typical green to a multitude of colors like bright pink, purple, and even a mix of colors.  Every day I feel like a chameleon as I shift my personality to fit those around me. I've always been a people pleaser, wanting every person I meet to like me. Over time that has evolved to me shifting my colors to fit the group or person's own identity. “Oh, you like pop music. Me too!” “You hate country music?” I guess I won't tell you I think it's fine. “Me too, it's awful.” It is exhausting constantly remembering what persona I came up with for each person. Did I tell her I love coconut ice cream or was it him I told that too?  Becoming tired of constant worry of saying the wrong thing to someone, shattering the perfect color created just for them, I slowly started to stop trying to ma...

Since I was young, my parents have always told me, time and time again, that one of my greatest strengths is my ability to make new friends. I was always a social butterfly, whether it was with my neighbors, my classmates, or even my teachers—I never hesitated to go up to someone and start talking to them. The relationships I make with the people around me have always defined who I am. When I was in third grade, my family moved houses; this meant I also had to move schools. I wasn’t necessarily worried about it but it definitely took some adjusting to get used to a brand new environment. Little did I know that this change of schools would bring me one of the most important people in my life.  On a random Friday of fourth grade, a desk broke in the classroom. The only open desk was the one right next to me, so, naturally, I helped the girl move her books from her now broken desk into her new desk. She barely spoke a word and in that moment, I would have never in a million years thou...

What would you do at this current moment if both your parents got into a car crash? How would you feel? Would you even feel anything?  Well for one thing, that APLang grade would suddenly seem meaningless. Nor would the tsunami of text messages flooding your phone—drowning you in “Do you need anything?” or “How can I help?” messages—bring you any warmth, as each notification adds an icicle to the wet, cold blanket of your current situation. And all that would melt the cold—enabling you to feel warmth—is seeing your parents one more time. \ Quite the loaded intro, I know. Now thankfully, I haven’t had to experience this traumatic event, but that does not change how often I think of it (probably a bit more than I should)—an uncommon, but still possible occurrence. But instead of sitting in fear, I flip it. It reminds me that time isn’t promised, and that no day, no hour, no minute, no experience should be taken for granted. And so, it has helped shape me into living my life with no r...

        Religion is undoubtedly one of the most important factors in a person’s identity. Are they  Muslim or Jewish or Christian or Buddhist? What kind of Muslim or Jew or Christian or Buddhist are they? Which traditions and practices do they do?  Religion is a giant factor in how someone sees themself. But when you don’t follow a religion, how are you meant to understand what it’s like? For the record, I’m not religous. I don’t go to church or pray or follow specific holidays, and neither does my family, but I grew up in a school where a lot of my close friends were Christian. They went to church on Sundays, they met with other people from the church on Fridays, they had Bible study groups on weekends. While this wasn’t a major issue or problem, it always made me wonder what does religion mean to them? Do they see it as just a natural thing they do? Do they genuinely believe in God and Jesus Christ? Does going to a church to pray and reading the Bibl...

Do you do things to be interesting, or do you do things to be interested? Lately, this question I was asked some time ago has sustained its pestering role in disrupting my usual thought cadence. I would love to "do things" purely by being interested in doing them, but I know I am often pretentious and this ego issue pinpoints where my thoughts usually converge nowadays, aside from thinking about RAs.  People curate themselves to been seen. People desire recognition of their quirks and and interests and every little thing that they do. Well, some people would rather keep to themselves—but many of us are afraid to be seen as abnormal and atypical of society’s expectations of people fitting in and because of this we project parts of ourselves to be admirable, cool and likeable within social standards. I am no exception to this. (NO, I’m not referring to “performative males” or anything of the sort!!) Many people enjoy the comfort in labeling themselves in trying to define who ...

It first began with art—a gifted sketchbook for my fifth birthday and a battered pencil, then a clean, fresh pack of crayons from Walmart, then Elsa stencils, then more markers, then words— flying into my hands, arming me with the ability to bring whatever I wanted to life. With the newfound freedom my art supplies gave me, creating stories with them seemed only natural. I saw stories portrayed beautifully in my favorite movies, comics, and books, from the regal stance of Bambi’s father to the lush green lands of Varanasi. It baffled my young mind that something so beautiful could be conjured up by the human hand. I concluded that if professional artists and animators could do it, I could too. Throughout my early childhood, I was intimately acquainted with being uprooted and moved around. Born in Austin, then moved to Chennai for a year, then Plano for six months, then South Pasadena, then Fremont. Each move came with the familiar awkwardness of being plopped into a new class in the mi...

 Jaycee Snelson-Week 2: #1 Fan    As a family of five our life is one chaotic circus. We are always going from one thing to the next, rarely seeing each other for more than an hour during the day. But, whenever we can we always love spending time together whether that's making dinner, playing board games, or just watching a movie. In fact, just before writing this, my family and I ate dinner together and had a mini game night of Clue, that annoyingly my brother won, Cribbage, which my mom dominated in, and Sorry, which begrudgingly we let my little sister win.  Growing up my parents have always made it a priority that everyone goes to each other's events, no matter how boring I find baseball to be, even if we have a million things at the same time there would always be at least one person in my family that would be there cheering me on. This rule was always a blessing and a curse. It was amazing having people there at your game cheering you on no matter how well you ...

Hope you enjoy this exploration with two of my characters! The moon had long claimed the sun’s place in the sky, and the branches scratching on Aeriko’s bedroom window had begun their nightly shuddering to the prickling breeze. The house was dark, minus the glow of her laptop because the lamp on her desk would surely wake Cal. Lord knows he’s a light sleeper and  nosy guy, but he listened in completion. He took it to heart when she confided in him when they first moved in. Placing a statue of the Virgin Mary on their bedside table, she admitted, I’ve never told anyone about this . He responded in kind, hanging up a photo of Saraswati. Neither have I.  Those artifacts meant little to them in practice, but it meant the world to their families, so it had to mean something to them.  This was open on her laptop: her Tagalog learning notes and wallpaper of her parents at her and Cal’s wedding. Though they were shining in joyful stillness, something about their eyes felt judgeme...

Ever since I was young, I waited for the day I would get asked to become an instructor at my dance company. I began my training in middle school, first starting to shadow during classes, then becoming an assistant teacher, finally getting my own class almost a year and half later. One of the first classes I taught on my own was a group of 9-12 year olds. They are the perfect age group to teach. They are young enough to still get excited by minimal things while being old enough to follow directions and make my life a little easier. I remember getting to the studio the day I got my driving permit and as soon as I told them, they got more excited than even I had been. Every week they would ask me if I had driven to the studio and I would tell them about my bad parking while they laughed at me (not with me).  I started doing an activity with them at the start of every class. We would go around in a circle and share our favorite thing that happened in the previous week. My intention, at...