Reflections From A Summer in DC
Just some insights I gleaned from working, observing, thinking, talking to people, observing (again), and thinking some more
Whatever it was that you found yourself doing this summer — whether it be babysitting your neighbor’s toddler, living and experiencing somewhere culturally new, taking a summer class, doing an internship, or taking a nicely-deserved break and rotting in bed — I think it’s a wonderful privilege to have the opportunity to sit down, write, and reflect.
Working a 9-to-5 Monday through Friday and adulting far away from home for the first time has really brought some things into perspective about people, relationships, and life —
I’d encourage anyone reading this (hi!) to think a bit about what they’ve learned about themselves this summer and perhaps write it down. Meanwhile, here’s some insights I’ve gleaned from working, observing, thinking, talking to people, and thinking some more —
The last two months have probably been one of the biggest changes I’ve experienced: It was the first time I lived “away away” from home and left the bay area for longer than a month. It was the first time I lived in an apartment, the first time I cooked and cleaned independently, the first time I worked a full-time job, the first time I checked-in luggage and rode a plane by myself (got scolded twice for having too-large of a carry-on bahahahaa), the first time I rode a metro, the first time I received a real paycheck (not counting the $10/hr Saturday morning filing gig I did for my elderly neighbor back in high school), the first time I bought groceries on my own … and the list goes on and on.
I, for one, am so, so grateful that I didn’t have to go through it all alone. I learned how to adult 101 while going on weekly city excursions in DC alongside the best group of gals I could ask for (affectionately deemed quad cuties) — figuring out how to plan museum tours, utilize public transportation, navigate underground metro stations, and make restaurant reservations much earlier than my usual last-minute calls (procrastination = bad lol). I slowly mastered the ins-and-outs of grocery-shopping under the guidance of my wonderful roomie (A.L.), who I may have scared the first time around at Safeway by buying so many items we could barely lug everything home (two jugs of milk anyone?)
Albeit the face-palmable freshman faux pas every now and then, it was those little adventures I got to go on with the quad cuties (shoutout to S.H., E.H., A.L.) — which included getting stranded in the middle of a random highway after our Uber driver ditched us in the wrong place, fangirling over pink toilet paper at Hillwood Estate, scrutinizing the presidential debate in the heart of the nation’s Capital on a dingy couch, failing dramatically at Trivia Night, learning how to use the gym while E.H. humbly benched 40 lb weights effortlessly, sweating profusely in the D.C. humidity, and hosting late-night chit-chat sessions —that really made my DC experience magical. Which segways to my first realization:
#1) It’s the people who make the experience magical.
I never realized, or fully-appreciated, just how important the people were in almost anything and everything you do. Prestige matters so little in comparison to who you’re surrounded with and what kind of culture you’re immersed in. It was the quad cuties and the other friends I met and made along the way — the stupid funny things we did, the discussions we exchanged, and the stories we weaved, spilled, and crafted—that kept me grounded, hopeful, and at-home when I was on the urge of losing my mind in environments that sounded lovely or prestigious in concept. Opportunities, experiences, and moments during this summer that felt lacking, sad, or frustrating often stemmed from fundamental issues with culture, a lack of interaction and camaraderie, or the core idea of “missing the right people.”
What I’ve begun to realize on a personal level is that I can become passionate about almost anything I do when it involves learning new ideas, growing with friends, tackling challenging issues, problem-solving, and doing something good for the world. But while the what is important, the who matters more.
I seek the environment more than I seek the specifics; What I care more about is being surrounded by and getting the opportunity to learn from intelligent, inspiring, kind, and fun people out there doing inspiring, fun, and innovative things.
TLDR: People and relationships are so, so important.
You can be in the same place, with the same resources, doing the same things, and you’d still have the most different experiences than the guy or gal sitting next to you depending on who you’re surrounded by, both physically and mentally. Having a supportive, open network can make even the most menial tasks more fun and inspiring; On the other hand, shitty people and shitty environments will slowly wear you down —no matter how wonderful of a thing you’re pursuing.
In other words, it’s the people that will make or break things.
Speaking of people making or breaking experiences, it was most-certainly A.L., E.H., and S.H. who were instrumental in preventing me from going completely bonkers this summer. Because other than working full-time and adulting 101 in a new city, I also took the entirety of Multivariable Calculus (multi) in a condensed six weeks.
Did I “successfully” complete it by arbitrary metrics like grades? I mean, yeah, technically I got an A. Was it a bad idea that led to burnout? Very much so … which brings me on to my next point:
#2) Know yourself, constantly re-evaluate your capabilities, and be very conscientious of what you take on.
College is not a race. There is no ego boost in over-working. It’s stupid. And unhealthy. And I knew that, but I underestimated my workload. Again.
I’d taken high-workload, condensed core summer courses in the past (Geometry in 8th grade summer, an AP CS-equivalent Java course in 9th grade summer), and both experiences were extremely difficult and mentally exhausting — and this didn’t involve working or living independently at all.
Yet despite the warning bells above, I’d decided to take multi this summer because I had made a decision to double in Statistics at the time (after a vendetta against the probability section of CS 70 lol) and knew that I’d need to complete the class this summer if I were to, theoretically, graduate on time—given that Berkeley’s new College of Data Science, Computing, and Society (CDSS) doesn’t allow a one-semester extension anymore. (Note, I have since dropped this Stats double major for a variety of reasons.) And so, while I wasn’t working, exercising, or cooking this summer, I spent free hours late into the night, early into the morning, deep into lunch breaks, and whatever 10 minutes I could glean on the bus, watching math videos and doing math problem after math problem after math problem after math problem …
First of all, it’s not a good idea to learn a core math course like multi in six weeks (unless you’re one of those math whizzes, which I certainly am not). I ended the class so rattled that my heart wouldn’t stop pounding for two days after the last day of class, I’d wake up in a cold sweat wondering how I’d need to plan and manage the unreasonably long problem sets for the day even though the course was done, and I wasn’t just exhausted: I actually became so mentally indifferent and physically numb that it almost felt like I was aloofly watching myself suffer from a third party’s POV.
The issue would’ve been nonexistent if I were just aiming to pass the class at the bare minimum (which is fine in theory, since outside courses don’t factor into Berkeley’s GPA calculations). But what I learned and reinforced about my working style this summer after failing to properly reflect during previous iterations (where I’d reached similar points of nervous breakdown) is that given a task, I’m (1) determined to do it well, and (2) struggle to let things go when I can’t figure them out. Think pure stubbornness but compounded x1000.
In other words, what I’ve re-learned about myself and put into physical words on a page is that given too many tasks, I have trouble letting any of them go if I don’t think I’ve done a good job at any one of them; I just try doing every one of them well until I inevitably burn out and destroy myself in the process.
As a result, I have to be extremely conscientious about what I choose to take on and invest my time in, and be particularly mindful of balance. This might not necessarily be the case for other people, but regardless, I think it’s so important to know yourself and intentionally gain a better understanding of how you operate from an individual standpoint.
I was lucky this summer because despite all of the above, I also stubbornly refused to give up running and still managed to have loads of fun in DC with sheer willpower and help from my lovely friends, who viciously dragged me out from that slump. And of course, now I know a bit of Calc III too.
But out of complete transparency, if there’s one thing I took away from this experience, it was that there’s no point in digging yourself in a bottomless pit of stress just because you can. Especially when everyone moves on their own timeline, there’s no rush to finish things as fast as you can at the expense of your wellbeing and happiness — which brings me to my next point:
#3) Timelines are an arbitrary construct. Be flexible. Starting earlier can make things easier of course, but it’s never too late until you give up.
I found this realization to be incredibly funny, because one of the first concepts I learned in my Geog10AC class during first semester of freshman year was that “Time was an arbitrary measurement constructed by humans to explain change.”
Well … duh, LOL, I remember thinking. When time passes, things change. Obviously? What a silly idea to force into a discussion.
Yet what’s fascinating is how much this statement of “time being arbitrary” has stuck with me and re-surfaced stubbornly over and over again —every time with new insights.
As college students, we have our whole life to work, but only a limited four years to experience things so fully like we can now. The whole arbitrary timeline of “ I need [X internship] for [Y summer] and [Z return offer], so I have to do [ABC] in order to enable [XYZ],” is definitely helpful to an extent, since it encourages you to look for fulfilling summer opportunities and do well in them. But it’s imperative to remember that this whole breakdown of [freshman summer = XYZ activity], [sophomore summer = XYZ internship], and [junior summer = XYZ internship + return offer] is JUST. A. TIME. CONSTRUCT.
There are so many great things out there that don’t involve [insert name brand activity], and taking courses one semester early or later is NOT the end of the world. It’s easy to forget that sometimes, so I always have to remind myself that there is no rush. There never was, and there never will be. Just stay flexible, follow your own timeline, keep an open mind, and everything will be fine.
#4) No one can do everything. If you think someone is, they’re probably not. You have to prioritize.
One of my biggest takeaways this summer originated from an intern fireside chat with Brookings President Cecilia Rouse, who’s full list of accolades is far too long for me to write out but formidably includes: (1) Chair of the Council of Economic Advisers under President Biden, (2) Dean of the Princeton School of Public and International Affairs, and (3) Member of Former President Obama’s Council of Economic Advisers. She also graduated with a B.A. and PhD from Harvard.
Given all the above, on top of being a mom and raising a family, it was hard to wrap my head around how anyone could do so much. Yet when one of the interns asked exactly how she managed work-life balance given all her accomplishments, this was exactly what Dr. Rouse said:
“No one can do everything. If you think someone is, they’re probably not. You have to prioritize.”
When I raised my hand and requested that she elaborate further on what her top three biggest priorities were, this was what she said with nearly no hesitation:
“Sleep, exercise, and my kids.”
How deceptively simple is that? And yet so painstakingly difficult at the same time, when you consider actually making those values a priority? What struck me as inspiring was the idea that if a powerhouse like her could prioritize those three fundamental aspects of life (sleep, health, and family/friends), so could any college student — considering we have significantly less restrictions and family responsibilities than full-time, working moms with kids to care for.
There was also something else Dr. Rouse said during the talk that I found quite powerful. One of the interns was curious about what piece of advice she’d give to her past college self, and she said something along the lines of this:
Just do the things that interest you, and let it lead you to wherever you need to be. Don’t be afraid to take a big step and do something novel, different, or unusual just because you can. (Her example was choosing to study abroad in Senegal, a third-world French-speaking country in Africa, rather than the usual Paris — memories she still values to this day.)
Life’s responsibilities, Dr. Rouse had said, would only accumulate from here. You’ll only get more constrained as you get older. Use college to take a risk.
Which provides a lovely, natural segway to my last point:
#5) College is short. And wonderful. You’re an adult in concept but not in realistic implementation. You’ll never get this experience again … so go out, do things, and have fun, you career-obsessed idiot. Stop worrying :)
I’ve coffee-chatted with a lot of cool people this summer. Co-founders of innovative government agencies like the U.S. Digital Corps, leading experts in tech policy, regular contributing writers for the Wall Street Journal and New York Times, PhD students, Research Assistants at prominent think tanks — and more. Out of every conversation I’ve had, there’s one piece of advice that’s showed up over and over again, which I’ve tried my best to distill into a somewhat coherent paragraph:
College is this unique point in your life where you’re surrounded by so many smart, talented people who are the same age as you. You have no family obligations yet, your parents are still around, and in that sense, you’re still kind of a child, even when you have the full freedom of an adult. Maximize that. Appreciate that. Do all the stupid, silly, and fun things you want to do (to a reasonable, responsible extent, of course), and learn about balance while taking risks.
Working a 9-to-5 this summer and talking to so many mentors at different stages of life have really put all this into perspective. (I’d also like to give a shout out to the random new friends I’ve made on DC buses, who were kind enough to share invaluable advice.)
I haven’t realized how much I’ve taken school and student life for granted until I’ve had to work to make a living. Whether you like it or not, from a strictly objective and practical standpoint, transitioning from a university student to a working adult saps a lot of the freedom, flexibility, camaraderie, and creative energy that college uniquely provides. This is not to say that such an environment is gone forever, per se. But I’ve realized that college serves this freedom, creativity, and camaraderie to you on a silver platter, while in the workplace, you have to be a lot more intentional about making sure this culture remains a reality.
As a result, I’ve come to believe that yes, college is short. And yes, it’s equally wonderful and amazing and stressful and unique and novel and more. You are indeed an adult in concept but a child in reality — free from a good amount of practical responsibilities like family obligations, full-time jobs, marriage, taxes, kids, and whatever else fits into this laundry list.
As a college kid, I’m surrounded by so many cool, inspiring people everyday, quite literally served to me on a silver platter in the classes I have the privilege to take and the student groups I get the opportunity to explore. And it’s these people, relationships, new ideas, and communities that make me so, so excited for this upcoming school year as summer comes to a mellow close.
