Camira Powell – The Stanford Daily https://stanforddaily.com Breaking news from the Farm since 1892 Tue, 31 Jan 2012 07:36:25 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.4.3 https://stanforddaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/cropped-DailyIcon-CardinalRed.png?w=32 Camira Powell – The Stanford Daily https://stanforddaily.com 32 32 204779320 I’m Done with My Life: What do you want to do with the rest of your life? https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/31/im-done-with-my-life-what-do-you-want-to-do-with-the-rest-of-your-life/ https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/31/im-done-with-my-life-what-do-you-want-to-do-with-the-rest-of-your-life/#respond Tue, 31 Jan 2012 08:27:43 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1056286 Figuring out what I want to do with my life is like trying to make out what’s playing on my grandma’s old antenna television during a blackout; it’s very fuzzy and constantly changing. Since I find it almost impossible to answer this question, I tend to avoid thinking about it. However, as I climb the ranks of upperclassmen-hood, that gets harder to do, since everyone wants to know what I have planned for the future.

The post I’m Done with My Life: What do you want to do with the rest of your life? appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I'm Done with My Life: What do you want to do with the rest of your life?Okay, time’s up! Got an answer? Well, if you do, then you’re doing much better than I am, because I have no idea. Figuring out what I want to do with my life is like trying to make out what’s playing on my grandma’s old antenna television during a blackout; it’s very fuzzy and constantly changing. Since I find it almost impossible to answer this question, I tend to avoid thinking about it. However, as I climb the ranks of upperclassmen-hood, that gets harder to do, since everyone wants to know what I have planned for the future.

 

As I said before, I do everything humanely possible to not dwell on the fact that I have no clue what I’m going to do in life, but every once in a while the question creeps up on me, and I’m stuck struggling to find a suitable response. It started off with a meeting with John Prendergast. If you don’t know who this man is, you must Google him right now. I’m serious. Stop reading and look up all the remarkable stuff he’s done…finished? Good. Isn’t he impressive? As the co-founder of the Enough Project, he completely reinvents the concept of human rights activism, partnering with celebrities to bring attention to atrocities happening in African countries like the Congo. He’s just one of the coolest guys ever. How do I know this? Because I had the fortune of not just meeting him, but actually having a conversation with him about life, social service and Ryan Gosling (apparently the two are about to write a book together.)

 

During my little talk with John (yeah, we’re on a first-name basis), he asked me that question. I paused, feeling like any answer would seem inadequate in the eyes of a man who managed to help end the war between Ethiopia and Eritrea. Eventually I said that one of my many goals is to work in foreign countries reporting on issues surrounding women and children. However, that answer really didn’t feel like it encapsulated my true calling in life.

 

Being the quick-witted girl I am, I turned the question back on John, asking how he figured out what he wanted to do with his life. He laughed and told me that when he was younger he was just as lost as I was. He continued by saying it was a time-tested cliché that got him to where he is now: he followed his passion. At this point, I just nodded my head and went “uh huh” like that made perfect sense, but all the while I was thinking, what do you do if you don’t know what your “passion” is? Thankfully, he broke it down for me further by saying he just did things that made him happy. In his younger years, he didn’t always make sense to his friends and family, and he didn’t always make the smartest decisions, but he did what felt right. He had some ups and downs, some twists and turns, but now John’s doing exactly what he wants to be doing and making a huge difference in thousands of lives.

 

Thus, I started to think about what makes me happy. There’s a lot to choose from (eating and sleeping are at the top of the list), but honestly…I love making people feel great. I know it’s cheesy, but I thoroughly enjoy giving pep talks. I’m not gonna lie, I think – no, I know – I’m pretty fly. Therefore, I think it’s crucial that everyone around me feels just as fly as me. When it comes to helping someone else, I have (almost) no shame. My friends make fun of me all the time for saying some pretty outlandish things to make them see themselves the way I see do.

 

After John finished telling me about his incredible life, he encouraged me to do what he did. Not so much saving African babies (though I totally would), but more like doing whatever rocks my world. When I mentioned this nifty column, he implored me to use this space to write about things that matter to me. He helped me realize that there are so many ways that I can make a positive impact, and this can be one of them.

 

If I’ve made you laugh, made you think or made you smile then I’ve done my job, and that makes me feel amazing.

 

Hmmm, maybe I do have a passion after all.

 

Want to let Camira know that she’s rocked your world? Then email her at camirap “at” stanford “dot” edu.

The post I’m Done with My Life: What do you want to do with the rest of your life? appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/31/im-done-with-my-life-what-do-you-want-to-do-with-the-rest-of-your-life/feed/ 0 1056286
I’m Done with My Life: What if? https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/24/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-what-if/ https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/24/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-what-if/#respond Tue, 24 Jan 2012 08:27:41 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1055206 Since coming back to campus, adjusting to the Stanford lifestyle hasn’t been always been easy. I thought it would like learning how to ride a bike again, you know, it comes right back to you just like that. However, what I failed to remember is how difficult it is -- me especially -- to ride a bike, and that it takes a little trial and error before you get going again. And of course, looking around at everyone whizzing past me and doing loops around the Circle of Death, I had to believe it was just me who was struggling to just stay on a bike.

The post I’m Done with My Life: What if? appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I’m Done with My Life: What if?Since coming back to campus, adjusting to the Stanford lifestyle hasn’t been always been easy. I thought it would like learning how to ride a bike again, you know, it comes right back to you just like that. However, what I failed to remember is how difficult it is —  me especially — to ride a bike, and that it takes a little trial and error before you get going again. And of course, looking around at everyone whizzing past me and doing loops around the Circle of Death, I had to believe it was just me who was struggling to just stay on a bike.

 

So I found myself beginning to do something I hate — something I absolutely detest. I began wondering, “What if?” And I’m not talking about that super theoretical, fantastical kind of “what if?” (like, “What if I met Drake? Would there be a song called Houstalantacali?). No. This kind of wondering “what if?” has more to to do with things not accomplished than things wished for; it has to do with regrets. For me, it started off with: What if I had never left? What if I had stayed in the fall? How would things been different? Would I be more actively involved in certain organizations? Where would I live on campus? Would I feel more or less feel obligated to see certain people? And from there it snowballed — having me question my entire Stanford career.

 

While I was having this kind of existential crisis, I found myself going on a trip down memory lane. It started when I promised a friend that we’d have a sleepover like the good ol’ days of sophomore year. However, my plans got sidetracked a little when we ended up visiting another friend — a homie since Admit Weekend — who happens to live in the same dorm. Although we had intended to only stop by and catch up for a few minutes, we spent the rest of the night recapping our lives.

 

At times, I had wondered if our friendship with each other was just a result of the fact that we had lived in closed proximity during the very formative freshman year.

One thing that you notice when you return to somewhere you have left is what —  who — you care about. Everything is put into perspective. I find myself making more of an effort to see certain people or do certain things. Yet other things, like going to Green, don’t seem worth the effort. It’s hard to admit that there are people that you don’t care if you see because it makes you sound kind of mean, but it’s just being honest. You start to think how many connections are arbitrary versus the ones that are fated to happen.

 

Maybe it was the free-flowing juice or the all-you-can-eat fruit snacks, but at some point during the conversation, it hit me. I really like these people. As our talk continued, it felt like it was old times again. The ease and familiarity I have with these people can’t be faked. Even though I don’t see them all the time, and I sometimes wonder if any of it mattered or made some kind of difference, when I’m surrounded by them, I can’t help but think that I was placed there for a reason.

 

There are people ready, willing and waiting to reach out to me, and all I have to do is reach out to them in return. And that’s a wonderful thing to know, because it’s easy to forget that and get jaded. The connections that I make now are worth the effort of cultivating because they are not ones that I want to ever see disappear. Though I have to be willing to keep working at it if I want to keep what I have.

 

The fact that I can look back upon so many experiences with a smile on my face shows that I’ve made some pretty good decisions. I know I that I’ll never stop wondering “what if?” — a girl’s gotta keep dreaming that she’ll get a hit song made about her — but I realize that there are some things that I won’t ever wonder about.

 

Camira is wondering if you’ll email her, so drop her a line at camirap “at” stanford “dot” edu.

The post I’m Done with My Life: What if? appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/24/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-what-if/feed/ 0 1055206
I’m Done with My Life: It’s that time again https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/17/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-it%e2%80%99s-that-time-again/ https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/17/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-it%e2%80%99s-that-time-again/#respond Tue, 17 Jan 2012 08:27:24 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1054469 We’re back! Can you believe it? I can’t, mainly because I don’t want to. I won’t lie, it’s only been a few days and it feels...different. I’ve heard it can be hard adjusting to life back on campus after being away, like going home for the first time after leaving for college. Even though I’m here, I still don’t feel like I’m here. Maybe it’s because I’m starting school for the first time the second time this year, or maybe it is because it is, well, winter quarter.

The post I’m Done with My Life: It’s that time again appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I’m Done with My Life: It’s that time againWe’re back! Can you believe it? I can’t, mainly because I don’t want to. I won’t lie, it’s only been a few days and it feels…different. I’ve heard it can be hard adjusting to life back on campus after being away, like going home for the first time after leaving for college. Even though I’m here, I still don’t feel like I’m here. Maybe it’s because I’m starting school for the first time the second time this year, or maybe it is because it is, well, winter quarter.

 

As I walk around campus, joy and hope for the future is palpable. Students are playing Frisbee on the lawns, biking into the sunset — and it’s January. It’s literally like being in a scene from one of those movies that extol the virtues of the quintessential “college experience.” However, this kind of New Year enthusiasm can quickly be extinguished by the daily grind of school. The sun doesn’t shine forever, even in California. The winter rains seem to wash away the light, happy spirit that is indicative of a new quarter< — a new year.

 

Always wanting the present year to be even better than the one past, I make tons of New Year’s Resolutions. Most of them are generic mantras and affirmations about learning from mistakes, being the best you can be and all that jazz. But when 2012 rolled around, I felt like it was time for something different. This year, I wanted to make attainable, realistic resolutions so I could make concrete changes in my life. So, I came up with these:

 

Be nice(r) Personally, I think I’m sweeter than Splenda. However, some of my friends (and family) tend to disagree. Whenever I hear someone tell me this, my initial response is “WTF? I’m so done with you.” And after doing this for the millionth time and watching my friends roll their eyes at me (again), that’s when it hit me. Maybe they’re more right than I want to admit. So this year, I’m resolved to be nicer, or at least, a little less direct upon first approach.  Even though it goes against my natural instincts to not check someone — right away — if they’re doing something basic, I should still try. In theory, I’ll get more faith in people if I see them correct themselves, and I’ll look like the brighter, friendlier person I want to become.

 

Be Healthy(er) I’m with Congress on this one: pizza should count as a vegetable, and any form of a potato (fried, especially) should too. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the healthiest person in world, and I know no doctor or sane person would support my beliefs. As an ardent fan of Michelle Obama, I’m going to jump on this whole “let’s move” bandwagon and commit to stepping up my health game. This means eating green things that aren’t Skittles and coming to terms with my fear of vegetables (they are not evil.) And my commitment to being healthier extends beyond the physical; it includes the mental as well. Healthy looks a little different for everyone. For some, it’s learning how to reduce stress by not taking on as much responsibility, and for others, it’s spending more time thinking positive thoughts to create a positive self-image. For me, it comes down to actually maintaining a balance between eating well, stressing less and making time for stuff that makes me happy. Easier said than done, but I think it’s doable.

 

Be Spontaneous(er) I support the concept of going with the flow. As a California native, I’m all for not forcing things to happen and seeing where life takes you.  Yet, I would not consider myself impulsive. Even though being spontaneous is normally associated with doing stuff without thinking, that doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. We’re Stanford students. We like to think and we’re good at it (duh, that’s how we got in here in the first place), but sometimes there is a downside to thinking too much, i.e. overthinking the little stuff. Sometimes, it’s just better to go for it than analyze it later.  Like Nike says, “Just do it.” After all, if we can’t believe in a multimillion-dollar brand, then who can we trust?

 

I am determined to stay strong. Why? Besides the personal fulfillment that comes with maintaining resolutions past January 2, they are also legitimate things that I have the power to change. These little changes might even be the rainbows that come with rain in the winter.

 

Camira would love to hear your resolutions for this year, too. Let her know at camirap “at” stanford “dot” edu.

The post I’m Done with My Life: It’s that time again appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/17/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-it%e2%80%99s-that-time-again/feed/ 0 1054469
I’m Done with My Life: Ducks in December https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/29/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-ducks-in-december/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/29/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-ducks-in-december/#respond Tue, 29 Nov 2011 08:27:41 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1052314 Can you see it? The light at the end of the tunnel, AKA winter break, AKA the end of finals and our first chance to breathe that wonderful sigh of relief that comes with closing out one of the more hectic quarters of the year. I can, and I have never been more thankful to flip to the final month in my calendar, December.

The post I’m Done with My Life: Ducks in December appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I’m Done with My Life: Ducks in DecemberCan you see it? The light at the end of the tunnel, AKA winter break, AKA the end of finals and our first chance to breathe that wonderful sigh of relief that comes with closing out one of the more hectic quarters of the year. I can, and I have never been more thankful to flip to the final month in my calendar, December.

 

I wanted to make a grand analogy about how we have reached the end of a long journey, which has been a long time coming. But let’s be real here, this upcoming break is just a break. More or less a rest stop on the road of life, if I want to get metaphorical with it. Scary thought, huh? Here we are, limping to the finish line, only to be told the race is not over yet. Oh no, buddy. Some of the fun hasn’t even started.

 

Someone once asked me what I thought about the conundrum of students being afraid to voice the stress and strain they feel, trying to take on the world without letting anyone see them sweat. To me, that was a pretty accurate description of — cue dramatic music — “The Duck Syndrome.” The Duck Syndrome (which will henceforth be affectionately called TDS) is the idea that we are all ducks, looking cool, calm and collected on the surface, but underneath our little feet are paddling like crazy to keep us afloat. No duck wants to admit to another duck how much of a struggle it is to keep their head above water, even though every other duck is in the same position. TDS is something that’s not unique to Stanford, but it’s definitely ubiquitous.

 

I’m pretty sure revealing your weakness to the public goes against rule #1 in “The Art of War” playbook, but saying nothing could be even more damaging. If we keep paddling, what happens when we’re too tired to go on? No one wants to see a duck’s heart give out. That’s not cute. And what does a duck’s heart failure look like? Well, it comes in a variety of forms. From a student-turned-zombie who hasn’t slept more than three hours a night in the last month falling asleep everywhere on campus, to that kid in lecture who’s been sick with something resembling whooping cough for eight out of 10 weeks but refuses to stay home and get better for fear of missing some critical information. Or breaking out in a cold sweat because you just realized that your exam, 15-minute presentation, and 20-page research paper are all due the day before the event you planned for your student group. And, of course, there’s always the classic psychotic breakdown.

 

But most of the time we talk about these situations, we do it with an air of nonchalance, like it’s not only inevitable, but also mandatory. Late nights, ridiculously early mornings and moments of near insanity just amount to more stories from the trenches that we’ll one day tell our grandchildren. We display these battle wounds with pride, seeing who’s gone through worse and lived to talk about it.

 

At a place that encourages students to do more, work smarter and be better, we become used to doing the absolute most all the time. So we often forget that it’s when we take a step back and do a little less than nothing that things finally start getting done. If you need proof, just look at your own life. Chances are you know of at least one instance when you (or a friend) aced a test you didn’t study for, or you (or a friend) bagged a breezy by saying hello. This is not to say that we should all run around not doing anything to get anywhere in life. Some effort is required. Really, it’s about knowing that in certain situations, less can be a lot more.

 

There’s a beauty to doing nothing. It might be hard to realize or admit that fact, but it’s something worth discovering, and the upcoming winter break is the perfect time to start exploring. Realistically, we’re all going to have TDS for life, and that’s why we’ll go off and run the world (if we want to). That doesn’t mean we can’t have moments of rest and relaxation in between, though. If a duck can leave the water to take a nap, so can we. And my calendar tells me there will be plenty of time for that this December.

 

Camira might be suffering from TDS, but she’s never too busy to respond to reader emails. Send her one at camirap “at” stanford “dot” edu.

The post I’m Done with My Life: Ducks in December appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/29/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-ducks-in-december/feed/ 0 1052314
I’m Done with My Life: What matters most https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/15/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-what-matters-most/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/15/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-what-matters-most/#respond Tue, 15 Nov 2011 08:27:42 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1051791 It’s an interesting thought -- especially considering it comes from the football coach -- and I would have to agree. While there are so many people doing amazing things all over our campus, there is more than one thing that we should focus on. Stanford just likes to win. We want to be best in everything.

The post I’m Done with My Life: What matters most appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I’m Done with My Life: What matters mostStanford football games are always a pretty exciting on campus, especially when playing a huge rival like Oregon. But this game was special; it was College GameDay on ESPN. I had no idea what that meant, I’m still not quite sure what it is, but I know it’s important and impressive. For days leading up to the game, my Stanford webmail inbox got blasted with requests for extra tickets — someone even likening their Oregon game ticket to receiving cake on their birthday. Emails announced rollouts commencing at 5 a.m. and the subsequent rally on The Oval. Even though I miss some of the fanfare that surrounds a Stanford football game, I was quite thankful I was 3,000 miles away, which seemed to be the only way to avoid being dragged along to the early-morning celebration.

When other Howard students talk about their football team (it’s all about the halftime show out here and to be real, it’s usually worth waiting for), I don’t hesitate to tell them what it’s like to have a bowl-winning team. I keep tabs on our team, even purposefully going to ESPN.com so I know what’s going on (that’s a lot for a girl that doesn’t even know what channel that is on her free cable.).So in the spirit of the big match, I purposefully read an ESPN article that talked about our unique football program. The author found one of its most unique components to be the fact that players are treated not like gods, but like the students they are. Of course, student athletes get some privileges that not all students get, but it’s no different from any other privileges that come with being associated with certain groups or organizations (am I really the only one who wonders why senators have access to Old Union at all kinds of crazy hours when I’m stuck going to creepy Meyer if I want a place to study?). Nonetheless, the thing that got me about the article was a quote from head football coach, David Shaw. An amazing guy in his own right, he gave his own explanation for Stanford’s football culture.  He summed it up perfectly saying, “Stanford is full of people who love to see greatness…It’s a place of many excellences.”

It’s an interesting thought — especially considering it comes from the football coach — and I would have to agree. While there are so many people doing amazing things all over our campus, there is more than one thing that we should focus on. Stanford just likes to win. We want to be best in everything. After our little shakedown with Oregon, some worried that students are simply fair-weather fans, but Cardinal pride runs deep, and it doesn’t go down easy. Instead of finding cries of “what happened?” I found optimism and support for the Cardinal, and even joy as students found solace in the Maroon 5 concert scheduled for that same night. Things have been worse before, and one day, it may be worse again. But right now, there’s something magical about the spirit and energy of students coming together in support of their fellow classmates who play their hearts out every weekend in front of packed stadiums.

The day after Saturday’s tragedy, I had expected to see my Facebook timeline filled with lamentations over our heartbreaking loss to Oregon. Instead I found a mix of optimism and support for our beloved team, with students past and present praising them for what they have been able to accomplish so far. And now, days later, students have finished licking their wounds (with the incredible concert expediting the healing process) and turned their attention to the game that matters most: Big Game. The people we love to hate most are coming to campus, and I couldn’t be more stoked. I feel like I’m more excited now than when I was actually on campus.

One of the best Facebook statuses I saw all day went like this: “End of the Night Rankings: Stanford: #5. University of Oregon: #101. Oops, I was looking at US News College Rankings: the ones that matter more…

After I finished ROFLing, I had to agree. There’s more to life than football, there’s more to life than rankings, there’s more to life than one loss. No matter what the score is at the end of the game, we’re still #winning because Stanford’s got SWAG  (Students Working After Graduation).

Camira would really appreciate someone finally explaining to her what College GameDay is. Email her at camirap “at” stanford “dot” edu with this important information.

The post I’m Done with My Life: What matters most appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/15/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-what-matters-most/feed/ 0 1051791
I’m Done with My Life: The art of waiting https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/08/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-the-art-of-waiting/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/08/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-the-art-of-waiting/#respond Tue, 08 Nov 2011 08:27:22 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1051534 The saying goes, “Patience is a virtue,” and for the most part, I have considered myself an exemplar of that. I’m not in a hurry to become an adult (though I feel like an old lady at times), I can stand waiting for the return of “True Blood” and I rarely feel the need to rush anywhere (much to the chagrin of anyone I’m meeting).

The post I’m Done with My Life: The art of waiting appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I’m Done with My Life: The art of waitingThe saying goes, “Patience is a virtue,” and for the most part, I have considered myself an exemplar of that. I’m not in a hurry to become an adult (though I feel like an old lady at times), I can stand waiting for the return of “True Blood” and I rarely feel the need to rush anywhere (much to the chagrin of anyone I’m meeting).

Yet that theory has been checked, starting with my first day at Howard when I moved into “The Towers.” Every day it gets tested when I have to wait for my Internet to work again after it cuts out for the thousandth time, or I’m sitting in a classroom waiting the mandatory 20 minutes for my professor to show up. Coming from Stanford, a place where students have panic attacks if it takes more than .03 seconds for a webpage to load, I couldn’t understand how anyone at Howard remained so calm when dealing with these situations. While I was going crazy, they were just fine, unruffled by the slowness of the system.

Eventually, I realized that the issue didn’t just stem from my lack of patience. Yes, I wasn’t as patient as I liked to believe, but the real problem was that I had been waiting the wrong way my entire life.

I found this out unintentionally when my friend announced that she wanted to perform at an open mic night. The place would be packed on a Friday night, so we wanted to get things done in advance. We attempted to buy tickets beforehand, but we discovered they wouldn’t be sold until that night. So we got in line well before show started at 11 p.m., waiting close to an hour to make sure we received tickets. Once inside, we waited for the show to start. When the show started, we waited for the show to get good. When the show was good, we waited for my friend to perform. However, they told her she would have to wait until next month to perform because the set list was full.

Although my impatient self felt that night was a waste of time, something valuable actually happened. Back when we were stuck in the liminal space between outside and in, we met another pair of people in the same situation. My friend and I had arrived with a purpose, but this pair barely knew what they had gotten themselves into. They had just left their play rehearsal and joined the line hoping that whatever was on the other side of the wait would be worth it. So as we commiserated over our prolonged fate, we got to know the people behind us, who were more entertaining than many of the performers showcased.

History has repeatedly shown that waiting long enough is great motivation to get something done (Civil Rights Movement, Arab Spring, and more). I understood why by the end of the night. We were all tired of waiting, so my friend decided to have her own impromptu open mic, new friends included. I stood in the cold listening to her sing on the street like it was a spotlighted stage in front of a packed theater. It was amazing. Our new friends then joined her on the street corner stage, belting out a rendition of “Impossible” from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s “Cinderella” that would have made a pre-crack Whitney Houston proud.

The songs sounded so sweet not only because the singers were talented, but also because of the anticipation built up through the wait. Waiting can make highs higher and the lows even worse. Think of the last time you waited for something — an album release, an answer to a difficult question, a (worthwhile) Facebook notification — and what it felt like to finally get it. Anticipating the result can lead to unmet expectations, which sucks. But that’s what waiting is: the expectation that the end result is worth your time.

When waiting, most of us curse time if it stands between us and what we want. It’s ingrained in our DNA to not like waiting, to wish we were moving forward, not stagnating in the same place. Waiting is not an option, but a requirement of life. We wait for things to come, to pass, to happen, anything that matters. I’m still perfecting the art of waiting, but I do know that if the wrong way to wait is focusing on what you’re not doing yet, then the right must be figuring out what can be done in the meantime.

Camira’s waiting for your email, so make sure to get one to her at camirap “at” stanford “dot” edu.

The post I’m Done with My Life: The art of waiting appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/08/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-the-art-of-waiting/feed/ 0 1051534
I’m Done with My Life: All grown up https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/01/im-done-with-my-life-all-growed-up/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/01/im-done-with-my-life-all-growed-up/#respond Tue, 01 Nov 2011 07:27:09 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1051318 So what am I missing? If I’ve been in my 20s for the last five years, what happens when I actually turn 21? When I’m 25, will I have a midlife crisis like a 40-year-old? When I’m 30, does that mean I’ll be an old maid ready to throw in the towel?

The post I’m Done with My Life: All grown up appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I'm Done with My Life: All grown upI’ve always felt that my youthful appearance belies my true age of 25. I’ve been 25 years old since I was at least 18, feeling on the growner side of things for a while. Back when “House” was just a game where kids pretended to be in a faraway adult world, I always played the mom or cool older sister. I found it an indication of my innate maturity despite being the youngest of my friends (or of the fact that I was bossy and enjoyed telling people what to do). Even in high school, some of the best Friday nights involved fancy dinners with friends before going salsa dancing at a place where we were the youngest people in the building (young meaning under 60).

Being underage anywhere is a hard life, but there’s something about D.C. that makes it extra rough. Every night I dream about my 21st birthday. Many of my peers imagine going on a 24-hour bender in Vegas, hitting up every neon-lit club possible. That would be awesome, but it’s not my style. Honestly, my fantasies are of a classy lounge where I can sit and sip leisurely in the company of like-minded intellectuals.

It’s not as though I don’t like to have fun. I do. I love to function as much as any college kid — I’m nowhere near an unsocial introvert — I just have grown-person sensibilities. At times, I have to push myself to do the “college” thing to live up to the expectations set forth in great films like “Drumline” and “Animal House.” Yet if I’m given the option of attending a pulsating, hotbox house party or a chill, unpretentious kickback, the kickback wins.

So what am I missing? If I’ve been in my 20s for the last five years, what happens when I actually turn 21? When I’m 25, will I have a midlife crisis like a 40-year-old? When I’m 30, does that mean I’ll be an old maid ready to throw in the towel?

I realize that all of these concerns are irrelevant to anyone’s life (including my own) and prime examples of #firstworldproblems. However, they do make me worry about everyone else. There’s a ton of articles saying that today’s youth are staying dependent longer, but on the flipside, you have kids maturing faster than ever. Why is my six-year-old cousin’s schedule fuller than mine? And it doesn’t help that he can teach me how to properly use the new iPhone. A generation ago, typical 25-year-olds would be married with kids, working at the same company they would one day retire from, but that’s not so true anymore. Now typical 25-year-olds are occupying somebody’s couch because they can’t find a job if they’re not in school adding on higher-level degrees with higher levels of debt, or part of the handful of new (Stanford) graduates actually working.

It’s a role reversal, like a Benjamin Button-esque transformation on the inside. The older you get, the younger you feel and vice versa. People are always saying how they feel better in their 40s than they did in their 20s, and maybe it’s because at 20, they felt like they were 50.

There’s a difference between being grown, mature and old — all of which are simply states of mind. Old is all about experience, being around long enough to reminisce about the way things used to be. Mature means you’re established, exuding a sense of capability that comes with being responsible and reliable. Grown connotes the existence of something that resembles potential; it’s the promise of that next stage in life beyond rolling around and being unsure of what happens next (you may not know the answers, but you’re closer to finding them.)

When they play their cards correctly, grown folks do have the best of both worlds. If they graduated in ‘0-anything or below, they can’t hit up a party thrown by someone in the class of ‘14. That’s not a good look. However, they can throw their own soiree in the house they own (hopefully in area without noise complaint worries) with age-appropriate peeps. Then, when they get tired of jamming to old school Destiny’s Child, collegiate Kanye and classic Missy, they can slow things down with no shame because they’ve already gone hard in the paint.

I realize there are some perils to being all growed up and I’m mature enough to admit that I’m not old enough to handle them. So for now I’ll just work on embracing my actual age until I’m actually 25.

Want to kick it ‘90s style with Camira? She’s always down to watch some Fresh Prince or Boy Meets World, so email her at camirap “at” stanford “dot” edu.

The post I’m Done with My Life: All grown up appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/01/im-done-with-my-life-all-growed-up/feed/ 0 1051318
I’m Done with My Life: Make your own fun https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/25/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-make-your-own-fun/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/25/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-make-your-own-fun/#respond Tue, 25 Oct 2011 07:27:50 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1051067 What happens when everything you do doesn’t work?

At school we’re taught all those cliches that tell us to keep trying, never give up and hop back on the horse even if we’ve fallen off every time we get on. However, what they don’t prepare us for is when all the above doesn’t hold true.

The post I’m Done with My Life: Make your own fun appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I’m Done with My Life: Make your own funWhat happens when everything you do doesn’t work?

At school we’re taught all those cliches that tell us to keep trying, never give up and hop back on the horse even if we’ve fallen off every time we get on. However, what they don’t prepare us for is when all the above doesn’t hold true.

In moments like these, I think about way, way, way back in the day, when my PlayStation wasn’t working, the daily “Arthur” episode was just a rerun and I couldn’t find my Game Boy. I thought my world was ending. Nothing I did was working, so I would go to my mom whining about being bored and wanting something to do. In response, she would go on a rant about how back when she was young, her parents would just send her and her siblings outside to play, and then lock the door so they couldn’t get back in. Of course, I knew my mom would never do that to me (she barely let me cross the street on my own until I was at double digits, petrified that I would end up getting kidnapped in the middle of the crosswalk.) However, that wouldn’t stop her from waxing nostalgic about a time before play dates, before activities had to be educational and before parents had to be more creative than their kids to keep them entertained.

Nonetheless, once I looked beyond the parental craziness, I could see that there was actually sane advice in there. In life, you have to learn how to make your own fun. And life has reminded me time and time again that it is often very necessary to do so.

Work, work, work, work, yeah you know I got that work.

Wale’s “Bait” became my unintentional anthem this past weekend as I attempted to live up to my own and other people’s expectations of what a good time really is. Never in my life have I spent so much time trying to find something to do on a Saturday night, especially not when I’m attending the supposed capital of school social life. But I sucked it up, and to avoid all that ridiculousness, my party-pal and I spent copious amounts of time doing research and pre-party planning to ensure that we found the function. And we did.

We found the magic words “free before 11,” and we were on it. This time we got ready early, checking “yes” to everything on our going-out list. Even though we had done everything right and had backup contingency plans, things still went wrong. Our ride never came no matter how many times we called, neither of us could afford to drop $30 just to enter a sweaty, overpriced club and we had no desire to walk past the locals who really liked our outfits (I never thought being called Tina Turner could make me cringe.) So we were left with the decision to wallow in our disappointment or to keep it moving.

And this is when I had a mini-epiphany as my mother’s words came back to me about making my own fun — making my own way. Everyone knows that sometimes things just don’t go as planned — that’s stating the obvious — but that doesn’t keep you from asking yourself, why? No, not why, but when? When do I stop trying to go down this path that (maybe) I’m not meant to go down?

So when you’re done lamenting your life, it’s a good time to see that the same route that’s killing you might be better left for someone else. This doesn’t mean you’re taking the easy way out, it just means that you’re smart enough to see that the road marked “dead end” got that sign for a reason.

As a kid, I didn’t completely understand the beauty of what my mom was trying to tell me because I thought it applied only to my ability to find something to do during playtime. But it goes further than that — what she was really telling me was that I’m the only person stopping myself from having a good time. I’m the only person who keeps looking in the couch cushions for the Game Boy that definitely got broken at school the week before. I’m the only one capable of making whatever experience I’m having a good one.

That Saturday night, I made the decision to actually listen to my mom’s advice. We shook off the letdown and moved on to our Plan F, which meant being open to the possibilities of finding fun in the most unexpected places.

Camira would like to hear your idea of a fun night, so why not email her at camirap “at” stanford “dot” edu?

The post I’m Done with My Life: Make your own fun appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/25/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-make-your-own-fun/feed/ 0 1051067
I’m Done with My Life: How do you make a friend? https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/11/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-how-do-you-make-a-friend/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/11/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-how-do-you-make-a-friend/#respond Tue, 11 Oct 2011 07:27:01 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1050606 Before coming to Howard, one of my biggest concerns was how I was going to get to know anyone. I was petrified, thinking I was going to become a loner who spent 20 out of 24 hours in my room and sat alone every day in the dining hall, not by choice, but because no one wanted to sit next to me. Luckily, most of my fears were unfounded. I’ve been fortunate enough to find cool kids to run around and get lost in DC with, yet I still wonder how we got to that point.

But this past weekend, I made a friend.

The post I’m Done with My Life: How do you make a friend? appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I’m Done with My Life: How do you make a friend?I’ve never been the “new kid.” I never moved to different city or even changed school districts. Yet whenever new people would pop up in class, I always wondered what it was like to have to start all over again and make friends. I generally tried to be nice to them for good karma just in case I was ever in their position, but I couldn’t fathom what it felt like knowing everyone knows everyone — but you. Or at least, that was true until I got to Howard University.

Before coming to Howard, one of my biggest concerns was how I was going to get to know anyone. I was petrified, thinking I was going to become a loner who spent 20 out of 24 hours in my room and sat alone every day in the dining hall, not by choice, but because no one wanted to sit next to me. Luckily, most of my fears were unfounded. I’ve been fortunate enough to find cool kids to run around and get lost in DC with, yet I still wonder how we got to that point.

But this past weekend, I made a friend.

It was Saturday morning and I had an hour to get to the MegaBus parking lot to meet my friends so we could head out for a fun weekend in Philly. Sadly, the Metro stops by campus were closed for maintenance during the holiday weekend. They promised free shuttles to compensate for the atrocity, but I arrived at the nearest stop with my bags in hand only to see the shuttle pull away. A little disheartened, I didn’t have time to wait for the next one, so I decided to walk to the next stop a few blocks down.

My dorm is not located in the nicest part of DC. It’s historical and has some places worth visiting, but it’s still a bit sketchy (though it’s nothing to fear with an angry face and quick pace). About halfway between the Shaw-Howard and Mt. Vernon stops, I saw these dudes on the corner. Dudes on the corner are nothing new, but these ones looked extra grimy. At that same moment, I saw this taxi pull up behind me and the cab driver, who was more than old enough to be my grandfather, asked me if I needed a ride.

So I looked at my options: walk past these crusty men who will hit on anything that looks female or pay the price of the taxi. Taxi won.

At first, I was a little surprised when he encouraged me to sit in the front seat. My mind instantly jumped to the worst-case scenario, and I kept thinking this is how all those overly dramatic Lifetime movies start. But when I saw the state of the backseat, my hesitation ebbed. Once inside, he immediately told me that I looked like one of his people. I didn’t know how to respond, so he clarified by having me guess what East African country we were from (I wrongly guessed Ethiopia). I never knew I was Somali, but you learn something new about yourself every day. As he continued driving, he asked me all the basic get-to-know-you questions, and I kept one eye on the meter that he never turned on. He also proceeded to tell me about his hope to do some business program run by Georgetown for older returning students and how happy he was to make a new friend. He even went as far as to make a deal with me; he would teach me Arabic if I helped improve his writing skills for the program (he taught me two whole words I can’t pronounce to seal the deal.)

By the time I had arrived at the parking lot — early — I actually felt like I had made a friend, whether I had wanted to or not. In retrospect, it may not have been the brightest idea, but deep down inside, I genuinely believe in the kindness of strangers (you can judge me on my naivete later.) Nonetheless, I left the taxi happy about the decision I made. It’s probably not one I’ll make again, but that little encounter taught me something valuable. Everyone is a stranger until you make them a friend. Even your best buddy since the fourth grade was just some shy kid in the corner until your teacher made you sit next to her in class and you realized you both love “Sailor Moon.”

So if I can make a friend with Mohammed the taxi driver, just think of who you could meet.

Do you want to be Camira’s friend, too? Then you should email her at camirap ”at” stanford ”dot” edu.

The post I’m Done with My Life: How do you make a friend? appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/11/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-how-do-you-make-a-friend/feed/ 0 1050606
I’m Done with My Life: What I miss most… https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/04/im-done-with-my-life-what-i-miss-most/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/04/im-done-with-my-life-what-i-miss-most/#respond Wed, 05 Oct 2011 01:41:56 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1050376 In the past two months that I've spent in the nation's capital attending another school (all thanks to our little-known Diversity Exchange program), every once in a while I've caught myself thinking, "Man, I miss Stanford."

The post I’m Done with My Life: What I miss most… appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I'm Done with My Life: What I miss most...In the past two months that I’ve spent in the nation’s capital attending another school (all thanks to our little-known Diversity Exchange program), every once in a while I’ve caught myself thinking, “Man, I miss Stanford.”

It happened the first time when I was caught in a thunderstorm wearing a sheer summer dress and flip-flops. It happened again when I realized that classes not only start in August, but they keep going all the way to December. But every single time I see the door to my room, this same thought never fails to come to mind. It’s not because my room isn’t decent (it’s very Mirrielees-esque) or because I dislike my roommate (nope, she’s as cool as I am), but because there’s something missing. Something I never appreciated since it is ubiquitous at Stanford. Honestly, what I miss most are nametags.

I can still remember hearing the screams of “Welcome to Stanford!” when I arrived at Wilbur for the first time. As I walked through the halls looking for my room, every door had bright yellow “SubmaRinc” nametags pasted on it, announcing to every passerby the name and hometown of whoever inhabited the room. Of course, we weren’t the only ones who went all-out.  Across the entire campus, almost every dorm room door has something on it acknowledging the presence of life inside based on whatever clever theme was chosen for that year.

Back then I never cared about those overly decorated pieces of paper. They were convenient during rollouts or for Facebook-stalking purposes, but overall they seemed kind of pointless. Who really needs to know their neighbor’s favorite ice cream flavor or what bedtime story they loved as a toddler?

Nevertheless, when I arrived at Howard, I was mildly disappointed when I found my room sans nametag. I wasn’t expecting the same kind of fanfare surrounding dorm decorations, but at least something. On move-in day, the only “Welcome to Howard” indication was a couple of blue and white balloons tied to a kiosk outside. As time passes, seeing the endless rows of uniformly undecorated doors still makes me a little sad.

Remembering all the decked out doors at Stanford, it’s amazing how such a seemingly innocuous object can help create a sense of community so quickly. Whether they’re well made or not, they do help bind a dorm together. And it’s weird not to know my neighbors’ names. Of course, I could do the old-fashioned thing of knocking on their door or asking them during the umpteenth time I see them in the hall, but that’s a lot of effort.

This past Sunday, I volunteered at Stanford’s District of Columbia regional admissions info session that featured young alumni talking about their experience as students. When they played a video about “Discovering Stanford,” it had me ready to reapply just so I could live out all the amazing moments they recorded. The video was so persuasive that it made the first floor of Meyer Library look good (but when the admissions rep mentioned the 7.1 percent admit rate, I was like, “Thank God I already got in.”) Following the video, I listened as one panelist described the different characters he met in his dorm, while another commented on the great network of classmates and other alumni that he has met since leaving Stanford. After the aspiring ProFros had disappeared at the end of the session, I saw the instant camaraderie among the alumni. Though a few of them were already friends, most of them were meeting for the first time and they were able to bond over shared experiences. (“You lived in Toyon? I lived in Toyon! You threw up behind the dumpster on the Row? So did I!”)

Stanford cultivates an atmosphere where sharing equals caring — share your name, share your story, share your life — and I can’t help but wonder how much those little nametags helped in that process. It’s at moments like this when I realize that even when I am away from the Farm, I still take it with me wherever I go.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m enjoying my time at Howard, and I’m coming back with a little Bison in my blood. Yet this time away has taught me a thing or two, and I feel that it’s my “Cardinal duty” to pass the info along. So if nothing else, don’t take nametags for granted. Learn your neighbor’s name and their favorite flavor of ice cream. I know I will.

Even if it means making my own nametag, and everyone else’s too.

You already know Camira’s name, so why not e-mail her at camirap(at)stanford.edu?

The post I’m Done with My Life: What I miss most… appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/04/im-done-with-my-life-what-i-miss-most/feed/ 0 1050376
I’m Done with My Life: Welcome to Stanford! https://stanforddaily.com/2011/09/27/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-welcome-to-stanford-3/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/09/27/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-welcome-to-stanford-3/#respond Tue, 27 Sep 2011 07:27:35 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1050130 Whether you’re a freshman still getting lost around campus (admit it, you know you are) or an upperclassman who has been around for a minute, I know by now you’re sick of hearing it: “Welcome to Stanford!” Hopefully I’ll be the last person who’ll say that to you, but you and I both know that’s not true. But admit it, you’re as happy to be on campus as Stanford is to see you return. And take it from someone who spent her entire summer working on campus; things just aren’t the same without you guys (insert sad face).

The post I’m Done with My Life: Welcome to Stanford! appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
I’m Done with My Life: Welcome to Stanford!Whether you’re a freshman still getting lost around campus (admit it, you know you are) or an upperclassman who has been around for a minute, I know by now you’re sick of hearing it: “Welcome to Stanford!” Hopefully I’ll be the last person who’ll say that to you, but you and I both know that’s not true. But admit it, you’re as happy to be on campus as Stanford is to see you return. And take it from someone who spent her entire summer working on campus; things just aren’t the same without you guys (insert sad face).

Anyone at Stanford between commencement and convocation can testify to the fact that campus was far from deserted. No matter where I turned, I saw people. For months, the campus was teeming with socially inept kids, smug teens and over-aged adults reliving their youth. And these intruders were everywhere —  Wilbur, Stern, the CoHo, Jamba Juice; a few of them even found their way to Olives. Actually, for most of June, July and early August, Stanford was bombarded with visitors. Did you know that about 20,000 people come through Stanford during the summer? Of course that isn’t all at once, but that’s still a staggering amount considering our undergraduate population hovers around 6,000.

After finishing an academic year that didn’t want to end (thanks, sophomore slump), I couldn’t understand why people were so happy to be at Stanford. I was just here to work, as my only alternative was spending another summer in Indiana watching “The Price is Right” with my grandma and being used for free babysitting. Instead, I spent hours each week passing out room keys and fobs (don’t ask). I saw parents who drove their children from Florida to California for an (overpriced) week-long program about the joys of reading. Some musicians traveled from London to attend a 10-day jazz class. And Asian tourists took my picture at least once a day. Upon arriving at Stanford, people of all ages ran around like they were at Magic Mountain wrapped up in Disneyland. Trust me, you don’t know what excitement is until you’ve watched a pack of 10-year-old boys walk into a dining hall.

I know Stanford looks great on paper. I’m not going to bother listing a bunch of statistics about why we’re amazing (you know, the usual stuff about having the No. 2 law school in the country, a ridiculously competitive admit rate of 7.1 percent  and an Orange Bowl-winning football team) — it’s all Google-able. That’s not the point; rather, it’s the sad realization that somewhere between chanting your little heart out at NSO and becoming a dreaded upperclassman, you get jaded.

Seeing all of these non-Stanford people’s enthusiasm about everything, I decided to take off my cardinal-colored glasses and looked at the Farm as if I had never seen it before.  And that’s when it hit me: Stanford is a great tourist destination. And I mean that in the most sincere, best way possible. Think about it: tourists tend to go places that are interesting, fun, educational, beautiful, renowned, historical or unique. That basically sums us up, aside from a few adjectives. We live where others want to be. And why do they want to be here? Because of us, of course. Okay, that does sound a little egotistical and there are a lot of other reasons to want to come to Stanford, but we are still a big draw. Stanford attracts a unique blend of individuals who are driven, but also laid back. Talented yet unpretentious — our uniqueness is what gives Stanford its liveliness. That’s what makes it so special, and that’s why people are so happy to be here. Over time, it’s easy to forget all the positives and just see the problems. But with a little distance — or overexposure, in my case — you can see all the reasons why you fell in love in the first place.

So for the last time (I lied, I can’t resist): Welcome to Stanford! We missed you (insert happy face).

Want Camira to give you a tour? Sorry, she’s away, but you can still send her your thoughts at camirap@stanford.edu.

 

The post I’m Done with My Life: Welcome to Stanford! appeared first on The Stanford Daily.

]]>
https://stanforddaily.com/2011/09/27/i%e2%80%99m-done-with-my-life-welcome-to-stanford-3/feed/ 0 1050130