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Personal Essay Blog Post #6

      Can Money Buy You Happiness?      Yes. The age-old question is multifaceted and complex, but my answer is undeniably yes. I think one of the reasons many are so quick to believe that money can’t buy happiness is because of how open the question is to interpretation. Do I believe that everyone’s woes will evaporate as soon as their salary rises? No. Is every single rich person happy? Of course not. But I do believe that money can increase the quality of one’s life, and through that, their happiness.  I think the debate of whether money can buy happiness should focus more on how a lack of money can prevent your happiness. I have been blessed to never have to worry about where my next meal is coming from, where I was going to sleep on a particular night, or whether I could pay my bills. Any personal issues I may be dealing with at times feel trivial when compared to these questions that many ask on the daily. With a sufficient amount of money, one could alleviate their stresses an
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Personal Blog Post #5

    What could you live without?          If posed with the question: “what could you live without” most students could agree on a few options which are universally hated. There’s not one of my peers who hasn’t ranted about how they hate homework. But the biggest annoyance to my life as a student is what many others treasure the most: If I could choose one thing to eliminate from my life, it would be my need for sleep. Most people love the supposed period of peace and dreams. A reader could ask why I didn’t choose any of our other most basic needs: if I eliminated my hunger and thirst, I would have heaps of money. But sleep feels different. The solutions to hunger and thirst are as basic as they come. If your stomach is growling, fill it with food. If you are parched in class, ask to go to the water fountain. But when it comes to sleep, I feel like I can never win. These days, sleep and productivity seem to be on a scale, counterbalancing one another, making it impossible to have much
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Personal Essay Blog Post #4

  As young children, we are often advised to adhere to a basic set of ethical guidelines: be kind, share, and don’t lie. Lying was presented as an immoral act and a betrayal of trust. When I was at this age, I developed a discomfort with lying, but not for the right reasons. My discomfort with lying doesn’t come from an inner good, but an irrational phobia.       My fear of lying was first instilled into me when I was in 2nd grade. It started when my father was snooping around the garage and noticed rancid smells nagging at him. He began to find that the source of these smells were wrapped sandwiches placed in remote corners of the house . These sandwiches found themselves situated in the most bizarre of places, finding their way into drawers and down to the bottoms of laundry bins. My father consulted with the rest of my family and found out that these sandwiches were the same ones my Mom was packing my brother and I for school lunch. One of us was going to be in big trouble. When I w
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Personal Essay #3 First Draft

     It was extremely tempting to take this prompt as an opportunity to rave about my dearest celebrities. I could choose to speak about my favorite musical artists, my favorite actor, or my athlete of choice. As I began to envision my blossoming friendship with Leonardo Di Caprio, I took a step back and asked myself what neighbors were really for: pretty much nothing.  A couple of considerations brought me to the conclusion that having a celebrity neighbor wouldn’t benefit my life. I thought to myself about my past experiences with my neighbors and reflected upon our interactions. I had friends who lived on the same street as me; one of my best friends who lived on my street was Aryan. Along with a group of kids from my neighborhood, we used to hang out outside all day, everyday during the summer. Shooting on basketball hoops, engaging in high-stakes football matches on his 20-yard field of patchy grass, and catching each other up on our progress in the Batman video games we were pl
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Personal Essay #2 First Draft

  While staring at this prompt my mind drew a blank; “What is the best thing about you?” The question was so open-ended and vague and yet I still couldn’t think of an answer. I have no defining personality traits, no innate virtue, and I’m not blessed with ultra-intelligence or superhuman abilities. I started to think more broadly about what I really was good at. Of the activities I thought of, I realized I was inherently bad at all of them. However, I was dedicated to them, and kept with that interest of mine to eventually upgrade my skills. I think one of my best qualities is my ability to pursue my passions and work hard to improve them. I always look to learn more about, and improve in the things I’m interested in. I think this quality of  delving deep into what I’m interested in has found success in many areas of my life. A particular area that I can think of is Quiz Bowl, one of my favorite activities. In it, two teams compete to answer questions from academic areas like histor
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Personal Essay First Draft 8/31

  Me, my mother, my father, my brother, my uncle, and grandparents were huddled around the Christmas tree in a festive mood. I had just finished unwrapping a soccer ball and looked eagerly at the shiny wrappers to see whose turn it was next. I will not forget when my Grandma, who knew nothing about technology, unwrapped her present, an iPad Mini. She, who barely knew anything about technology, looked in awe as she stuttered out the mispronunciation “pud-min-EE.” She struggled with it at first, but as she has learned how to use it, she has become more connected; talking with her friends, keeping up with the news, and FaceTiming or Skyping my mother every night to inquire what is happening in her life. While I don’t advertise for every 80-year-old to be active on Instagram, I think this anecdote speaks not only to how technology can benefit older people, but how a willingness to change and a readiness to adapt and move forward can improve their lives in more ways than they can imagine. M
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