This year in all deserves something formally written, of course. I am time’s friend, having just given it a box of arrows as the new year present (maybe when time gets bored, it might shoot the arrows elsewhere, such that we won’t need black holes).

That’s me!


So here I am, at the end of another year – not technically so, until I carry my camera uphill tonight for the firework – anyway, they call it as such – 366 days that, for me, commenced not long ago with 2015 exams persevering into January, some embarrassingly limited, conceited or downright improper knowledge about college application, and, somehow, not very many mistakes.

That’s not heartfelt – my time spent correcting its grammar seemed ridiculous, as it’s a conclusion incurably made – nothing above is heartfelt.

2016 is a special period during which I matriculated into legal (and somehow mental; unfortunate) adulthood (with some expected complexations mentioned here), started this blog (Thanks! Happy new year!) and continued growing up.

In all, it’s been peaceful, here and there. AI can help me write music now. Another epitome: a year hardly original.

It turned out that the only years I’ve prepared holistic reviews for were 2013 and 2014, for nebulous incentives that I indeed lack now. Was I not remembering as much? Was I not caring as deeply? Was my drowsy mind not as absent? Have I lost before I found my first waypoint?

Recording lengthy, but I’d recorded the most about the miraculously entangled October; photos abound, but I feel tired when I want to edit or post; notebooks full, but I saw some content I’d copied in the hope to recite them one day.

I haven’t recited much recently. My adulthood – procreative hormones – and laziness. “Or, let’s observe a failing brain.” I told myself.

“Can it still contemplate the vastness of interstellar space?” Myself followed up.

I lived with shadows cast into my timeline from all around – strangers – and my younger self, whose expectation, in particular, renders it somewhat disappointing.

Scarcer than bonds to unfinished books and physics exercise were true human connection; lower than confidence in the face of lifelong endeavour was the cheerfulness of being remarkably sentient and, first of all, healthy.

I deleted Facebook, though. So we have that. I regard doing so as a chance to calm down before one can pour the conceits into some subset – literally, empty set for me – of some human faction.

Maybe one day I’ll tell my teammates/colleagues/classmates/friends,

“I’ve had a bumpy freshman year before I knew it was over.”

  • “But it’s fun! I’ve learned a lot thanks to every opportunity I’d taken.”

“But man is not made for defeat,” he said. “A man can be destroyed but not defeated.”

Hemingway has made his appearance. I wished I could be friend with him.

Make another quotation, shall we?

From such a vantage point in time, I finally can revise what I have learned during the past 600 days and realise how distant yet how attainable the goal of life is, and how wondrous it is that individuals congregate and guide one another on each’s endeavours into tomorrow.

I recall what I had commented on MITAdmission’s Blog, the moment before τ (3sf) showed up on my world clock,

“Really. No matter what the outcome will be on our decisions page, the entire process of trying, dreaming and aspiring has already made every one of us applicants a better person.”

I feel fine and will put more diligence into everything I do. Maybe my dream of science has to be based more on firm evidence than on vast ambition:

“But why there is a universe.”

I will try to find out, and I will be there.

– My email to a friend this March.

Life’s short. If not, take logarithm.

No one’s to be defeated.

May a fruitful season lie ahead.