499A — Lord, I'm coming home to you...
…and so the semester ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.
It’s hard to think that one-eight of my time at MIT has come to a close, but, at least for me, as of this moment, the fall semester of my freshman year is dead and gone. As I leave, I’m starting to realize the magnitude of the impact the Institute has already had on me. Of course, I’m ready to be home: to smell the fresh air, to see the stars, to walk among trees that never shed their leaves, to experience the dry winter that I love so much, to eat food which is not mass-produced in a dining hall, to be living with my family again, to be able to drive again, to see my friends and my teachers from high school in person. It seems to me, however, that, in another sense, MIT has become home. I was concerned at the beginning of the semester about whether or not I was actually finding a community, but I think with time the feeling has snuck up on me, shifting slowly into my life until it took over the whole. What will I do without the large set of people I can randomly text to meet up in some room, some lounge somewhere, and talk about whatever tickles our fancy?
The answer, is, of course, that life goes on. That I’ll be back on campus by January 5th, working at a job by January 7th (of which I received more news today), and back to the grind of classes by February 3rd. That I can spend time with my friends and family doing almost exactly the same thing as I was doing on campus. That I can text the many, many friends that I’ve made during the semester.
This fact—the fact that life goes on from this point forwards—feels sort of surprising to me, in a weird way. Over the course of the past few months, I think I’ve been conditioned for goodbyes where you don’t know when the next time you’ll see someone is—the end of high school, Presidential Scholars, RSI. As I left today, it felt so off to not be saying goodbye to all of my friends, and to sort of just disappear without a huge kerfuffle. Perhaps, however, this is normal. After all, I’ll be seeing them again soon enough.
As for today, today was a decent day. For the second day in a row, I managed to wake up at the precise midpoint of my intended sleep schedule, waking up at 4 AM and scrolling through various social media posts before returning to bed and continuing my slumber until my alarm sounded at 8 AM. From there, the standard procedure of getting ready and eating breakfast before heading out to my last final of the semester: CC.5111, or Chemistry.
The chemistry exam, was, for the most part, fine. I managed to work through the exam and check it all in about two hours, leaving me with an extra hour in my day to fill, although the fact that I was basically already packed meant there was no real way for me to use it. I headed to lunch for my last meal of the semester (what a shame to have it occur at Maseeh Dining) at some point, and spent the time talking to friends yet again, before eventually heading back to Next House.
I made my last minute packing decisions in Next, and, finding nothing significant to be missing from what I could see, I laid down in 4W shallow lounge where I was later joined by a friend with whom I whittled away the last few moments before I was bound to leave. Then, it was time—I grabbed my suitcase, my backpack, my violin, put on my jacket, told my friend and my roommate that I would “see them in 2020”, and headed down to the lobby to meet my high school friend with whom I was making the journey home.
The trip to the airport was exceptionally smooth. One after another, our transfers were right on time: first to Tech Shuttle, which took us to Kendall; then running onto the Red Line just as it arrived at Kendall; then running onto the Silver Line just as it arrived at South Station; it all worked out perfectly. After checking in and dropping off my baggage, I headed through the TSA Precheck line (which was, somehow, available to me) without significant problems (although I did get a bin pulled out of the conveyer belt for the third time in a row), and headed to the gate. At the gate, I briefly had a crisis over the fact that I had, in fact, volunteered to change my flight for $500 if necessary, but this was quickly resolved (it was, in fact, not necessary), and I managed to get on the plane early.
A small sidebar: traveling with an instrument is kind of stressful, since there’s always a chance that they’ll ask you to check it, or it’ll get crushed by a suitcase in an overhead bin. Fortunately, on my first flight, there was also a violist who shared this bin with me, and nothing else was placed in the bin, making it exceptionally safe. We had a nice bonding moment over this struggle, and this brought me a disproportionate amount of joy.
I spent most of the first flight trying/pretending/failing to sleep; my phone was charging the whole time and I had very little tolerance for motion sickness during this trip, so it was hard to really do anything else. Eventually, the three-hour flight wound down, and upon arriving in Minneapolis we headed over towards our gate, stopping at Chick-fil-A for our dinner along the way.
Our second flight (on which I wrote most of this) departed slightly late, but went relatively smoothly, and we sailed into Rapid without many problems. I think I noticed how much nicer people were on this flight; more conversationalists, more friendly attitudes, and this was, on the whole, a very nice reminder of the Midwestern atmosphere. I met up with my family right outside the exit from the secure part of the terminal, and we waited a little while for baggage before heading home.
Arriving home was a little weird—it feels like nothing has changed, and I move just as I used to, and yet four months have passed since I've last been here, and many things must have happened in the meantime. It is almost surprising to me how quickly the same things come back to me; the smoothness with which I navigate this environment which I have not been in for so long. Old habits resurface quickly, and my latent cognitive map of the whole place reasserts itself. It felt exceptionally good to be back with my family and talking in Chinese and messing around with my sister, and the ease with which we entered a philosophical discussion bodes well for the coming two weeks. Home sweet home. What a blessing to have.
I suppose that more thoughts about this first semester will come in the Year in Review, which I have not done quite enough work on yet. Tomorrow, however, I might just take one day off, and solely do things I need to: an eye appointment, a debate party, and (possibly) a visit to the high school. We'll see what happens.
It’s hard to think that one-eight of my time at MIT has come to a close, but, at least for me, as of this moment, the fall semester of my freshman year is dead and gone. As I leave, I’m starting to realize the magnitude of the impact the Institute has already had on me. Of course, I’m ready to be home: to smell the fresh air, to see the stars, to walk among trees that never shed their leaves, to experience the dry winter that I love so much, to eat food which is not mass-produced in a dining hall, to be living with my family again, to be able to drive again, to see my friends and my teachers from high school in person. It seems to me, however, that, in another sense, MIT has become home. I was concerned at the beginning of the semester about whether or not I was actually finding a community, but I think with time the feeling has snuck up on me, shifting slowly into my life until it took over the whole. What will I do without the large set of people I can randomly text to meet up in some room, some lounge somewhere, and talk about whatever tickles our fancy?
The answer, is, of course, that life goes on. That I’ll be back on campus by January 5th, working at a job by January 7th (of which I received more news today), and back to the grind of classes by February 3rd. That I can spend time with my friends and family doing almost exactly the same thing as I was doing on campus. That I can text the many, many friends that I’ve made during the semester.
This fact—the fact that life goes on from this point forwards—feels sort of surprising to me, in a weird way. Over the course of the past few months, I think I’ve been conditioned for goodbyes where you don’t know when the next time you’ll see someone is—the end of high school, Presidential Scholars, RSI. As I left today, it felt so off to not be saying goodbye to all of my friends, and to sort of just disappear without a huge kerfuffle. Perhaps, however, this is normal. After all, I’ll be seeing them again soon enough.
As for today, today was a decent day. For the second day in a row, I managed to wake up at the precise midpoint of my intended sleep schedule, waking up at 4 AM and scrolling through various social media posts before returning to bed and continuing my slumber until my alarm sounded at 8 AM. From there, the standard procedure of getting ready and eating breakfast before heading out to my last final of the semester: CC.5111, or Chemistry.
The chemistry exam, was, for the most part, fine. I managed to work through the exam and check it all in about two hours, leaving me with an extra hour in my day to fill, although the fact that I was basically already packed meant there was no real way for me to use it. I headed to lunch for my last meal of the semester (what a shame to have it occur at Maseeh Dining) at some point, and spent the time talking to friends yet again, before eventually heading back to Next House.
I made my last minute packing decisions in Next, and, finding nothing significant to be missing from what I could see, I laid down in 4W shallow lounge where I was later joined by a friend with whom I whittled away the last few moments before I was bound to leave. Then, it was time—I grabbed my suitcase, my backpack, my violin, put on my jacket, told my friend and my roommate that I would “see them in 2020”, and headed down to the lobby to meet my high school friend with whom I was making the journey home.
The trip to the airport was exceptionally smooth. One after another, our transfers were right on time: first to Tech Shuttle, which took us to Kendall; then running onto the Red Line just as it arrived at Kendall; then running onto the Silver Line just as it arrived at South Station; it all worked out perfectly. After checking in and dropping off my baggage, I headed through the TSA Precheck line (which was, somehow, available to me) without significant problems (although I did get a bin pulled out of the conveyer belt for the third time in a row), and headed to the gate. At the gate, I briefly had a crisis over the fact that I had, in fact, volunteered to change my flight for $500 if necessary, but this was quickly resolved (it was, in fact, not necessary), and I managed to get on the plane early.
A small sidebar: traveling with an instrument is kind of stressful, since there’s always a chance that they’ll ask you to check it, or it’ll get crushed by a suitcase in an overhead bin. Fortunately, on my first flight, there was also a violist who shared this bin with me, and nothing else was placed in the bin, making it exceptionally safe. We had a nice bonding moment over this struggle, and this brought me a disproportionate amount of joy.
I spent most of the first flight trying/pretending/failing to sleep; my phone was charging the whole time and I had very little tolerance for motion sickness during this trip, so it was hard to really do anything else. Eventually, the three-hour flight wound down, and upon arriving in Minneapolis we headed over towards our gate, stopping at Chick-fil-A for our dinner along the way.
Our second flight (on which I wrote most of this) departed slightly late, but went relatively smoothly, and we sailed into Rapid without many problems. I think I noticed how much nicer people were on this flight; more conversationalists, more friendly attitudes, and this was, on the whole, a very nice reminder of the Midwestern atmosphere. I met up with my family right outside the exit from the secure part of the terminal, and we waited a little while for baggage before heading home.
Arriving home was a little weird—it feels like nothing has changed, and I move just as I used to, and yet four months have passed since I've last been here, and many things must have happened in the meantime. It is almost surprising to me how quickly the same things come back to me; the smoothness with which I navigate this environment which I have not been in for so long. Old habits resurface quickly, and my latent cognitive map of the whole place reasserts itself. It felt exceptionally good to be back with my family and talking in Chinese and messing around with my sister, and the ease with which we entered a philosophical discussion bodes well for the coming two weeks. Home sweet home. What a blessing to have.
I suppose that more thoughts about this first semester will come in the Year in Review, which I have not done quite enough work on yet. Tomorrow, however, I might just take one day off, and solely do things I need to: an eye appointment, a debate party, and (possibly) a visit to the high school. We'll see what happens.
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