Spring Quarter Update

I mark these weeks of limbo by episodes of Westworld. Every Sunday (or Monday or Tuesday or even the next Saturday… the weeks have been getting long), I turn on HBO and cling to the edge of my seat through another thrilling episode. The series questions the nature of reality, asking over and over again what it really means to be human — are the choices we make ours to make, or are they written into our code?

My days at home have uncharacteristically moved in characteristic Stanford fashion. I blinked, and suddenly two weeks have blown by. Is it possible that tomorrow is already Week 3? I’ve fallen into a sort of routine at home, governed by the countless p-set and essay deadlines. Whereas at Stanford I couldn’t define a day in my life, at home, it is decidedly easier. At 7 AM sharp, my dog wakes me up to let him out; then I go back to bed. After napping a few more hours, I wake up five minutes before class (no matter when class is) and immediately jump on Zoom — a nice benefit of online classes is my new punctuality, provided I wake up at least two minutes before class begins. Between classes, I wander into the kitchen and make snacks, or wander into the backyard to pick berries or lounge in the sun, or wander through the house to find Marley. I carve out hours to sit at my desk and grind problem sets and essays, which, despite the mandatory S/NC policy, require just as many as hours as before. Dinner has become a family ritual, paired with stories and check-ins — utterly different from the arrhythmic motion of my previous life at home, yet comfortingly familiar.

I have not yet found myself bored. Just as at Stanford, I dedicate as much free time as I can to socializing with people — albeit, over video chat. However, the constant flow of video calls comes does come with its own stream of challenges. The lag, the Wifi issues, that awkward moment when multiple people start talking at the same time and there’s no natural signal to yield or not to yield, the “Sorry, after you”s, the audio breaking up, the extended silences that somehow sound more silent with the white noise of the microphone.  Let’s put it like this: I love ice cream. I love it a LOT, and all my friends can attest to that. Video chat takes flavorful personalities and serves it in the form of ice cream — and as much as I love ice cream, there’s only so much ice cream I can eat in one time. Online interaction is exhausting in ways I never felt when I was in person.

However, ice cream is still WONDERFUL. Although the chats are scheduled — that Stanford spontaneity has been somewhat muted — you never quite know what’s going to happen. I’ve discovered the delights of Skribbl.io, Zoom breakout rooms, Secret Hitler, Stanford-themed Spyfall; I’ve learned how to “rose-bud-thorn” my way past the awkward distance of a call compared to face-to-face interaction. Right before I left Stanford, I spoke with Brandon, one of our RAs, about the social ramifications of all of this. In essence, he told me that the true friendships will emerge. Usually freshmen relationships are tempered under the heat of the summer; now, they’ll solidify under the weight of quarantine and social distancing.

Reunions have been the name of the social distancing game. Now that everyone is home, many of my groups from the past have taken the opportunity to catch up with each other. DYW, OCA, NSLI-Y, Gucci Gang, and of course, weekly house meeting — we’ve all found times to convene and play Skribbl.io for a bit (or at least, just talk for a while). Corona is the perfect reason to reconnect with old friends, no questions asked; or in some cases, even find new ones (online, of course).

This opportunity to come home like this is once in a blue moon. When I left for China, I was prepared for home to become more of a vacation destination than a residence. Now, I get to live at home once again. Some have bemoaned this as a rehashing of high school, but for me personally, it’s been a different experience. I now have fresh perspectives from my time in college (my first exposure to the “real world”), the cultural understanding from my time in China, and the time to actually make sense of it all in the context of my family. My relationship with my family, though somewhat hampered by everyone’s unique work schedules, has become stronger than ever before. I empathize with my parents in ways that high school me couldn’t have imagined; my sister and I are going through very similar experiences at our schools, despite being at different levels of education. The past few weeks have definitely confirmed that my decision to come home was the right one.

The tiny moments that I cherished on campus have shifted and changed form, but I love those tiny moments nonetheless. Now, they’re about my dad, chasing Marley around the house with a razor, yelling “Haircut!” They’re about catching (and gently teasing) my mom doing stretches on her new yoga mat set up, or finding the right questions at dinner time to get her to open up about her past. Or maybe cooking up a storm of fancy food for the family one day, followed by my mom’s culinary “experiments” the next. And of course, Marley. When I watch Zoom lectures, he curls up at my feet, napping in the blankets I wrap around my legs during the cold mornings. Sometimes he wakes up and scratches at my elbow during discussion sections, begging to cuddle or play ball or go hang out with the parents. There’s something about sticking my face in his fur, no matter how smelly he is, that is indescribably calming.

Online structures mean that barriers to entry have never been lower — but so are barriers to flake. Partnership is my means of accountability; for example, this blog post will now be a weekly venture with Pranav! I’ve begun a workout promise with Max (which is… rapidly failing but I swear I’ll get back on track), a dream journal with Jason, and a passion project (stay tuned for news on this!) with Enya. Beyond personal things, I helped organize Stanford Cleantech Challenge, which has been going swimmingly so far, and I’m hoping to help organize for ASES next year. The future is certainly bright. But it’s not burningly (or rather, burnout?) bright! Think more like the soft glow of a warm lamp in a dark night.