I cannot stand the excellent sheep.

The excellent sheep that bleat their own praises as they trot obediently behind the shepherd,
Following blindly into pastures with no end in sight.

Eager to be gathered,
eager to have the wool pulled over their eyes,
as they forget to follow not the shepherd, but their hearts.

We forget that we are discontent.
We are wild, restless, unruly, and discontent.
We are our thoughts and dreams and passions that drive us to achieve more.
We are the incredible potential that lies in our talents and wisdom and enthusiasm,
That we put on hold for empty promises of time and fortune and fame.

But I say take a risk,
Run the other way,
Find the unpaved path traveled by few.

What is the sense in finding your purpose by running away from your purpose?
Find what pulls at your heartstrings,
Find what needs fixing,
And run.

Not OK

I was hit by a car yesterday.

And it made me realize how little I know about not being ok. I'm so used to saying I'm fine that I don't know what to do when I'm not. I don't know how to tell people that no, I'm not ok and you just hit me with a car holy shit and please call the police. I don't know how to say you hurt me and I'm lying on the floor with my bike on top of me and I can barely catch my breath and does that look ok to you? Perhaps it's my privileged, fortunate life that has left me with so little exposure to pain and loss and sadness that I'm not able to express hurt; I'm too inexperienced to let the bottled up anger manifest in the "not ok". 

So instead I whisper "yes, I'm fine" as the world seems to spin around me and the sun seems too bright and I black in and out of consciousness. I stand up even though I know I can't and I almost instantly collapse onto the railing beside me, still dazed from the impact. People gather and I mutter the only words I can still remember how to say "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine..." so practiced after 20 years of being fine. I thank the lady who gets me the name and phone number of the driver and the spectators look on skeptically as I continue to reassure them that I'm ok.

And one by one they leave, only barely believing what I say...

And with one last "You're sure you're ok?", the car speeds away...

And one by one, my steps bring me home and I collapse on the couch, shoulder and neck throbbing in pain...

I'm not OK.

A Reflection on Studying Abroad at Cambridge

Or things I appreciated, things I learned, and things I wish I had known.

This post is a bit overdue, but after my semester abroad, I reflected a lot on my time at Cambridge and how different things turned out than I expected. 

Before I decided to study abroad, I made a list of pros and cons. Topping the pros side was the opportunity to travel and learn from new experiences, new people, and new ways of teaching. Topping the cons was leaving a school I loved. Perhaps my reluctance to go was a bit reminiscent of Stockholm Syndrome, but the endless opportunities, the rigor of the work, and especially the people made MIT a hard place to leave. But I was only missing 12.5% of my time at MIT in exchange for completely new experiences, and that seemed like a trade-off worth making. So I signed the form, bought my ticket, and 9 months later, I was on a plane to the other side of the Atlantic.

I had high expectations for Cambridge. I thought it would be similar to my summer in Singapore: incredibly memorable and filled with people who influenced my world as much as I hope I did theirs. I would get the chance to explore new ways of learning, change my perspectives, and gather experiences that would influence my future. But things ended up a bit differently. I guess it was a clash of cultures, but things didn't click as well here: I didn't feel as open around the people I met. In Singapore, I felt comfortable right off the bat. Cambridge was different. I felt like half the time I was holding myself back, especially when my lame jokes and over-excitability were often met with an uneasy seriousness. And then there were the conversations. My favorite way to learn about people is to learn about their dreams, but that didn't seem like a topic most people talked about here. And although I found my experiences valuable, I wish I had a better idea of what I should expect going in. I would have still done it, but more complete information would have been helpful to getting acquainted. Hopefully, this account of studying abroad will give an honest insight into my experiences.

Things I Appreciated

• The new friends who helped me to adjust to this new world and made me feel welcome.
• Getting the time to re-balance my life socially, academically, and personally.
• Exploring new interests like blogging, salsa dancing, badminton, and working on projects that I never would have had time for at MIT.
• Getting the time to focus on what I want in the future and how I can best contribute to the world.
• The rest of my exchange student compadres who helped keep a little piece of home close by.
• Getting the chance to travel around Europe and become more familiar with the world.
• May Ball!

Things I Learned

• Traveling is NOT a good way to relax; that shit is exhausting .-. My traveling limit is about 2 weeks before I become a literal vegetable.
• There's a lot to be gained from adopting new hobbies. It introduces you to a whole set of unexpected lessons. For example, I'm now oddly knowledgeable about African Gods from doing Cuban salsa.
• After lots of reflection, I've figured out that it doesn't matter to me what I do, as long as I'm helping people realize their potential for impact. Engineering is just another skill for my tool belt (along with empathy, leadership, design, etc.) of ways to approach this ultimate goal.
• The theory behind engineering (what Cambridge largely focuses on) doesn't excite me nearly as much as the applications of it.

Things I Wish I Had Known

• British culture is very different from American culture. Most notably, I missed the obnoxious laughter and the authentic openness of Americans. I missed people laughing at my lame jokes whether it was out of pity or actual amusement, and I missed people sharing their dreams, even to strangers. Maybe it's something about being brought up with the idea of the American dream that makes us dream big, but I've noticed that Americans often have concrete goals they're aiming for whereas I was met with a lot of complacency about the future from British friends.
• Studying abroad is a lot more relaxing than another semester at MIT. The rigor and difficulty is toned down significantly.
• Academics are focused on the theoretical, and hands-on opportunities are limited. Cambridge pales in comparison to MIT in terms of hands-on experience. Even machine shops are highly limited to students. But how do you become a good engineer without learning how to use the tools of engineering?
• The academics are a lot more grades focused. That might be fueled by the intense competition (grades are shown publicly) or by the way academics is handled here (a lot of my questions were met with "that won't be on the test"), but I'm unsure.

But after all of this, my experience ended up being unexpectedly as expected. I did learn to think in a different, more theoretical way and adopt an appreciation for digging deeper into topics. I did change my perspectives by better appreciating aspects of the world I left behind. And I definitely altered the path to my future. With all the time to explore new hobbies and puzzle through my own thoughts, I was able to focus on making my goals a little more concrete and get involved in projects and hobbies that I will carry back to the firehose.

Can't wait to be back, MIT :)

Imposter Syndrome for Millennials

Modern Imposter Syndrome wears a different mask than the one of 40 years ago.

Technology and social media have completely changed the way we experience Imposter Syndrome. We have much more control over what people see, making it easy to present only an idealized life. Our outward facing selves can be crafted to reflect perfectly filtered versions of reality. But that only widens the disconnect between our portrayed selves and our actual ones. We end up not giving people a chance to see what's genuine, making it less and less likely to feel appreciated and more and more difficult to avoid Imposter Syndrome. In the past, the only wall between our presented selves and our internal selves was our ability to filter our words and emotions. With social media, this protective wall becomes more of a fortress.

Social media makes it easy for Imposter Syndrome to be self-inflicted. By burying ourselves into the fabrications of the online world, we enter an artificial place where we can never truly reflect our authentic selves. Of course we feel inferior and unappreciated when we consciously portray only half of our selves. We curate to feel special, but instead feel misunderstood.

Growing up in this tech-driven generation, Imposter Syndrome has a disproportionately large role in my life. A fear of being found out is always in the back of my mind, and vulnerability intensifies that feeling. But you grow by doing things that scare you, so my way of being vulnerable is testing my limits. From blogging publicly to working on personal technical projects, I'm outside of my comfort zone. I've never been a first rate writer; I'm not the greatest engineer. I've worked on technical projects in the past, but I've never spearheaded an original idea. Which is why working on PenPal has become more than just a technical challenge. It's become an internal battle between my insecurities and a desire to contribute to the world as an engineer.

After years in the school system, I've become accustomed to the formulaic ease of solving problems with an existing solution. So when it came to brainstorming novel ideas, I was frustrated with my inability to solve problems instantly. Then there was the fear of failure. It's easy to be walked through a problem, because if you don't get it right, there's someone else to blame. However, I'm responsible if my ideas don't work. It's scary to have no scapegoat, to know that a failure is solely the result of your own incompetence. It screams imposter when your idea fails.

But failing is the only way to train creativity. Just like any other skill, creativity is a muscle that needs to be conditioned, and there's no shortcuts. There's just cold, hard failure after failure. However, working on PenPal has helped me realize that failure is not a sentiment to the quality of my work or level of intelligence. Failure doesn't mean I'm an imposter; it means I'm a person. It means I'm a novice who may need more experience with creative endeavors, but failing does not mean I'm a failure. Being a failure is a permanent state; being a novice shows potential for growth.

PenPal isn't my typical project, which is probably why it has taught me so much. At first, I figured it'd be a short term thing, something to dabble in just to say I did. I spoke about it without believing that I could pull it off. It was more of a pipe dream to impress others rather than an honest endeavor. It was Imposter Syndrome at its finest: my insecurities held me back from actually trying to innovate, but my desire to be recognized drove my ambitious words.

However, my partner was relentless. He would mention it often or excitedly bring up a new idea to try. I was sucked into committing to the project before I was ready, but then again, I don't think I would have ever been ready. I've been conditioned to avoid risky endeavors, and I considered this one of them. But my partner was my advocate when I didn't advocate for myself. Now a few months in, I've adopted a new mindset. Classes had taught me to use others as a crutch. A friendly, well-meaning TA would always be there to answer my questions, and I would receive the instant satisfaction of the right answer, but the long term insecurity of feeling reliant on others. With PenPal, there is no safety net. If I can't figure something out, the only option is to think harder. For the first time, I couldn't pass my burden of failure to anyone else. This led to weeks of frustration as I puzzled through idea after idea to realize they were all incorrect. I wasn't used to this.

What PenPal has taught me though is to slow down and appreciate the process. There's merit to working on something that makes your mind churn in endless circles, that makes you struggle before gifting you with the answer. And accepting failure isn't accepting incompetence. It's accepting growth.

I'm a huge proponent of personal projects because they encourage a type of learning that you can't get from the classroom. They force you to struggle in a way that's uncomfortable at first, but rewarding in the long term.

By tackling ambitious projects and allowing myself to fail, I'm hoping to converge my internal and external selves. I want to be as confident internally as I portray myself externally. I'm no longer going to be an imposter.

Becoming a Priority

What determines whether something becomes a priority or just an option?

People are faced with a lot of choices in life and a lot of things competing for their attention. So how do you become a priority? What guides that decision for people?

It doesn't matter whether it's a product, a service, or our selves. We're always competing for the limited attention people are willing and able to give to the world. With the newest, tech-obsessed generation, attention spans are shorter than ever. But it's by necessity: in order to filter out all of the noise of social media and constant information, attention spans have been reduced to an astonishingly short 7 seconds. So how do you distinguish yourself and rise above the noise?

This is a question I tackle in nearly everything I do: Design for America is about getting design its due consideration at a tech-focused school, FingerReader was about making accessible technology that blind people would actually want to use, getting someone's time of day is about competing for the few hours they have remaining between work and sleep. And at the core of all of these challenges is understanding people. It's about finding what makes people excited and what makes them tick. However, there's a few things that more universally encompass what motivates people. This falls into the realm of psychology, but I'll see what my non-expert perspective can offer:

1) Humans are social creatures, and that means we're driven by communities. A group becomes a community when you start feeling comfortable around them. There's no emotional fatigue of putting up facades and no struggle to understand group norms. Once we're part of an in crowd, we become devoted to our new second family. We attend all our sport practices because we don't want to disappoint the teammates we care deeply about; we stay up until 4AM to comfort our best friends because we know they would do the same. We're motivated by our bonds with others, and that's an idea we can use in becoming a priority. Build communities of supporters and users around your products so they feel connected; be genuine in forming relationships so people know you care. But most importantly, prioritize people above all else. This is something I still struggle with, but it's a time-worn truth that will continue to ring true, even if I need reminders.

2) People dig challenges, and that's not just my inner nerd speaking. Goal-setting theory states that one of the most compelling human motivators is having challenging, specific goals to pursue. There's a beautiful truth to that: humans are innately curious, growth-minded beings, and that's super cool. Offer people a chance to grow and they'll come flocking.

3) Give people a good reason to expect high return on their investment of their most valuable resource: time. Despite being social beings, humans are also selfish. They want to maximize benefit: an urge rooted in survival of the fittest. So make yourself a pleasure to be around, make the interactions of your app delightful for the user, and help them feel valued for being the special butterflies they are.

But what other rules can we apply to becoming a priority? It's hard to say when people are all influenced by their unique perceptual worlds, which changes exactly how they're motivated and what they're motivated by. And depending on ever-changing environmental factors - rain, stress, sleepiness - even those supposedly stable motivators can change. 

So it's something of an art. Deciphering each person's unique set of quirks is comparable to deciphering the meaning of art or literature. Design is considered a art for good reason...but not necessarily for the right reasons. Design is usually thought of in the context of aesthetic design: what something looks like, how something fits into your hand, what color something is. These factors were all determined by the careful eye of a designer. But on a broader level, design is about finding patterns among people and their motivations to make some product or service a priority. And of course that would involve the seemingly trivial details typically thought of as design, such as color, font, or form. Humans are nuanced so we need to pay attention to nuances. Sure we have our base set of human motivators, but after that, it's all a finely tuned dance of navigating human complexity one small insight at a time. Guess it's time to learn to dance.

Optimistically Jaded

In freshman year, I was named the forever freshman.

People attributed it to my optimism and my happy-go-lucky demeanor towards any and everything. I remember writing a speech for the CPW TimTalks that year and it was full of absolutes: "MIT is #1 for so many reasons" and "MIT is undoubtedly the best place for students to pursue their dreams."

I reread this love letter to MIT with a raised eyebrow but a warm heart, amused yet nostalgic of my idealistic freshman world. I remember a conversation I had then in which I vehemently defended that MIT is objectively the best school out there. Not surprisingly, my friend and I both came out of that conversation with unchanged opinions.

Since then, I have learned to look at things more critically. Call it realistic or call it jaded, but I've learned how valuable it is to have a critical perspective on things. I remember when jadedness took its roots in me sophomore year. I was confused why every situation didn't have the same glow of perfection, the same aura of amazing. But then again, there were people facing real problems, so my late blooming reality check seemed trivial.

And it didn't turn out to be such a bad thing: sure I don't see everything as rainbows and unicorns anymore, but that's just a side effect of growing up, and one that I am grateful for. Looking back, I realize my jadedness was a result of my intense desire to make an impact. In order to continue growing and improving, I needed to look at everything with a critical eye. Only by looking at things critically can we improve, because being aware of flaws is the first step to fixing them. Thus, my negativity is a result of my productivity. The problem is, now I have trouble turning off my critical lens to see the unfiltered optimistic side of things with the same ease I once had. As a product of constantly looking for ways to improve, I now risk thinking myself into a frenzy of negativity.

However, I now strive for a better blend of innocent optimism and experienced guardedness. I still look for ways to improve, but I also push myself to consider the promising positives of every situation.

Admittedly, I've been a little harsh on my Cambridge experience, which is what triggered this post in the first place. It wasn't what I expected, but there's a lot to be grateful for. Nevertheless, whenever I spoke about my experiences, I noticed myself bringing up the negatives more than the positives. Conversations about my time at Cambridge always started with "It's great but..." and then spun off into what could be improved. However, the way I frame my experiences affects how other people view them as well. Taking a polarized stance can close off new ideas and turn off people from thinking in a different way. My tendency towards extreme opinions is why I'm sometimes shiet at giving advice or have trouble getting people to see things the way I do. Extreme positions seem personal and emotionally driven, and that's not convincing anyone.

So now I'm working to both internalize and externalize a more balanced perspective of the world. And I'm still working on this balance. I take criticism a bit too far at times, while giving too much benefit of the doubt at others. My perceptions influence the lens through which I view the world, tuning the jadedness dial up and down based on my preconceptions. But its important to practice objectivity in every situation. We have control over how we view the world around us, and that means we should responsibly tune our own perspectives to be a little more understanding. By being aware of our biases, we're able to give everything and everyone their due consideration.

It's kind of ironic then that my jadedness was a result of one of the most positive experiences of my life. My time in Singapore the summer after freshman year was the catalyst to my passion for impact, but was also what started me on the relentless path of making impact happen as fast and as often as possible. But rather than approaching improvement in the blindly critical way that I used to use, I'm trying to tune my mindset to one of optimistic jadedness. I still want to see problems as improvements to be made, but I also want to see them as a projection of a better world in the near future. It'll be a process, and I'm still working towards this happy medium. 

Or maybe I'm just working towards happy :)

Just Seth Godin, saying it like it is B-)

To overcome an irrational fear...
replace it with a habit.
If you're afraid to write, write a little, every day. Start with an anonymous blog, start with a sentence. Every day, drip, drip, drip, a habit.
If you're afraid to speak up, speak up a little, every day. Not to the board of directors, but to someone. A little bit, every day.
Habits are more powerful than fears.

#filters

Despite the trending popularity of #nofilter, we all apply our own filters everyday.

And that doesn't have to be a bad thing. Whether it's the chill one, the silly one, the career-oriented one, or the quiet one, we're different selves around different people simply by design. We only want to show the side of ourselves that is most likely be accepted or will most fit with people's expectations.

So in moderation, these filters are helpful. We use them to protect the people around us from what they might not want to see and to protect ourselves from rejection or shame. We hide our silly sides during interviews so we don't overwhelm potential employers, and we shield our professional selves from friends so we don't look like we take ourselves too seriously. The filters we apply all depend on social context. Establishments decide for us what's permissible to show, and we comply with these standards so as not to stand out and become an easy target for criticism. It's hard to expose the authentic selves we hold so dear to a sometimes savage world.

But these socially imposed standards sometimes cause us to overdo it. Have you ever seen a picture that has been so over-edited that you want to look away? Humans can do that same sort of over-filtering to themselves. It's the crux of all things fake, cliche, or basic. But rather than contempt, we should meet these cliches with empathy. Over-filtering is merely going to further lengths to become more likeable, and we all strive for that. Except with over-filtering, we run the risk of becoming cookies from the same cutter, cakes from the same mold. For the sake of acceptance, we lose the quirks that make us each uniquely individual. We hide a part of ourselves that the world could benefit from. Because the world needs uniqueness. The world needs the new perspectives it offers, the different opinions it encourages, and the innovative approaches it sparks. Each person offers something new, but only if they express themselves as the individuals they are.

It's dangerous that institutions impose these standards, because they not only hurt us, but also damage themselves. By restricting norms to a checklist rubric, institutions drive people to fit themselves into a mold. This results in a culture of exclusivity and uniformity that drives away the valuable perspectives of people who would rather lose out on an opportunity than sacrifice self-expression. It's the root of the gender gap in Silicon Valley; it's the reason why MIT is so special with its wide-ranging diversity of students.

So for the world's sake, we should all strive to be a little bit more of ourselves. No doubt, vulnerability is hard: you have to remove your protective filters to reveal an individual that some might not expect. But it's not really getting rid of your filter; it's just taking it off of yourself and applying it to the world. Instead of filtering yourself for the people around you, filter the world for the people who can handle your uniquely awesome self. 

Vulnerability is difficult, but it can be so worth it. All of the most impactful events in my life have involved making myself vulnerable: to criticism, but also to acceptance. My summer in Singapore gave me the chance to be my authentic self for people from a different culture, and their willingness to accept me was humbling. I was afraid of making my blog public because I didn't want someone to read it and see a Connie they didn't expect. I didn't want to release my private opinions to a public that might not agree, or worse, think they weren't worth anything. But it was so fulfilling to hear friends and strangers alike accept and resonate with a self that I usually conceal. The fear of feeling worthless often keeps us from being vulnerable, but being vulnerable is the best way to realize your self-worth.

These acts of vulnerability gave me a new love for humanity. To see how willing people are to accept the authentic me made me value the incredible human-ness of being understood. No other animal can understand and empathize with each other in the same way that humans can, and that makes showing yourself in all your quirky, dimensioned, unique individuality so beautiful.

Vulnerability is the new #nofilter. Join the trend?

10 Tips for the Travel Newbie

Everyone has a first time sometime.

And what's not to like about a little advice to start you off? As a newbie Euro-traveler myself until recently, I'm glad to share a few things I wish I had known (and learned along the way). 

1) Find out about all of the common scams

For example, there's a lot of pickpocketing in Barcelona, people giving out flowers in Italy, and men tying wristbands on tourists in Paris. Avoid them so you don't get tied up in any scam shenanigans!

2) Get cash before you leave

You can get the best exchange rates by submitting a cash order to your bank instead of withdrawing from ATMs abroad or exchanging US dollars at the airport. However, make sure to take precautions to keep your cash safe while traveling. A money belt is a good investment to keep both your extra cash and your passport close to you. They might look tacky, but you'll have a better peace of mind!

3) Pre-search, but don't overplan

Don't pigeonhole yourself into specific plans or attractions: checklist traveling is one of the easiest ways to make a trip a bore. That means skip the bus tours and public transit and walk! Get lost in the streets of [insert awesome city] and be delighted by what you find :)

4) Pack light

Try to stick with only one pair of jeans and a single coat for layering. For girls, bring a few pairs of tights that can be worn underneath jeans on cold days and alone on warmer days. I opted to travel with my laptop, but with smartphones these days, you can go without it. Bring mini shower necessities and lots of socks and underwear so you don't have to skip out on doing fun things just to deal with laundry. Skip the towel: they're too bulky and you can usually rent them at hostels.

5) Find exciting hostels in a central location

Look for hostels with a fun, energetic vibe. If they have some mention of a large lobby bar, music, or student-targeted events (such as bar crawls, tours, etc) in the hostel description, that's a good sign.  It'll greatly facilitate meeting new people, especially if you're traveling alone, and provide a nice hang out spot if you're traveling with friends. Also, make sure it's in the city center! It'll allow you stay out later, give you a place to retreat midday if you need a break, and give you more of a chance to explore to your heart's desire.

6) Especially if you haven't traveled for a while, be careful of tap water

Although it may be certified as safe, your body might not be used to certain minerals or things in the water that natives would naturally be immune to. Go the safe route and stick with bottled water instead, unless you're traveling for longer than a month. In this case, you might just want to bear through the sickness once so you're safe for the rest of your trip and beyond. However, bottled water is a guaranteed way to avoid water poisoning, and it'll make your travels happier times.

7) Stay healthy!

Forreals doh! With all of the excitement of new sights to see and foods to taste, it's easy to forget about eating your fruit and veggies, drinking enough water, and taking breaks. But believe me, you'll burn out quickly if you're not health conscious: the easiest way to ensure healthy habits is to start out each day with a fruit and something energy boosting. Then you can indulge in all of the deliciousness you want throughout the day! And pace yourself. Don't use all your energy in the first few days or hours. Traveling with friends naturally gets you to travel at a good pace, but if you're by yourself or with one other, you need to be more aware of building breaks into your schedule because the lack of human inertia means you might end up traveling at a burnout pace.

8) Preload maps

GPS still works without wifi, so preload a map to your phone and off you go. Google Maps also has a nifty feature called Offline Maps that allows you to save maps and zoom in and out on the streets to get a bearing of where you are.

9) Try traveling alone

It's lonely at first no doubt, but it'll put you outside of your comfort zone and that's when you grow most. It'll also make you appreciate your friends, family, and privileges all the more. Of course, take precautions to stay safe. Don't stay out too far past sundown, consult others about which cities are safest to visit alone, etc. But also have fun! Don't be so concerned that you miss out on a good time abroad :)

10) Make new friends

Traveling and especially living in hostels is the best way to meet people who you normally wouldn't interact with. Talk to them, learn about their lives, and share your own stories with them. It's basically learning about many corners of the world for the price of one! Hostel boarders often come from all nationalities and backgrounds, but often all speak English together since it's the one language most young people have at least a working knowledge of.

So that's it! :) Now go crazy and explore!

Eurotrip (Part 3: The Self)

If you want to learn more about my Eurotrip, check out Part 1 of this series. These posts are all focused on the lessons I learned and adventures I had during my travels. This leg of the trip reflected my solo travel experience.

The Self

After a whirlwind of upset stomachs, exotic foods, and vaulted ceilings, I arrived in Berlin for the last leg of my journey: the self. My plans were to explore Berlin and Amsterdam after a few friends recommended that these are safe places to travel alone as a very obviously, non-native female.

So off a went to Berlin. And almost instantly upon arrival I was hit with an unfamiliar feeling: a helpless loneliness. I just wanted to curl up in bed and not think about how far away I was from everything familiar to me. It wasn't like I hadn't traveled before: I'd been to Singapore, I'd visited Thailand, I'd traveled solo in the US. But this felt entirely different. Without the security of familiar faces or even a purpose for being there, I was crippled with a case of the loneliness.

But this triggered my instincts to seek out company, so I started striking up conversations with strangers. One thing led to another, and I ended up spending a whole day with a new Italian friend and another day sharing stories with a girl from Argentina. And through these new friends, I was able to learn about the world, different cultures, and new perspectives. They shared stories of their pasts and dreams for their futures and I did the same. It was a practice of trust and vulnerability that helped me adopt a new humility. I learned about Let's love for her hometown of Buenos Aires and Cecco's conflict between his Italian roots and his love for the progressiveness of other parts of the world. But despite our disparities, our laughter was universal. No matter our disparate paths that brought us to Berlin, we could still share laughs about terrible Lego constructions and the craziness of German weather. We had our differences, but could all appreciate the beauty of the city around us.

After a delayed flight and the previous three weeks of travel, I arrived in Amsterdam excited, but ready for a break. However, plans dictated otherwise. Luckily, the freedom of solo traveling allowed me to spend the next few days on my own to experience the other side of traveling alone (besides meeting new people): meeting myself. I'm already quite big on self-reflection, so being with just my thoughts was nothing novel. However, in the past it was always for a few hours, not a few days. Which inevitably led to me getting bored with my own company and resorting to people watching, self-reflecting, and thinking about tremor pen (intellectual thinking is not my natural state).

There is definitely a lot of merit to traveling alone and I would recommend it to everyone, but perhaps only as a one time thing. Of course everyone gets something different out of solo travel, and it really depends on your mindset and starting state. No matter what though, it takes you outside of your comfort zone and that's a learning experience just waiting to happen. However, the way I see it, a lot of the benefits to solo traveling can be gained through other means. Learning from people, self-reflecting, and being inspired by new experiences can all be done by just making a more conscious effort to connect with yourself and the people and places surrounding you on a more regular basis. Appreciating the privileges you have or adopting an understanding of the sameness among humanity are all lessons learned from the first time around. I see a diminishing return to the benefits of traveling alone, but then again I may be a special case. I love exploring the world, but I love sharing those experiences with others even more. I feel like travel is inherently an experience to be shared. It's not about the city, but exploring together, laughing together, making memories, and so much more. Traveling is about new experiences, and those are best shared with others. 

I went back and reread all the Quora posts that had raved about the benefits of solo travel and inspired me to go on this adventure in the first place. I now read these with a much better understanding of what they mean. When they mention that you will be very lonely or when they rave about the insane amount you will learn, I see my own experiences. One Quoran wrote: "a smile goes a long way anywhere in the world." And it's so true. Through my travels, I've discovered how sporting a friendly face is all that is necessary to open up the doors of conversation with that group of girls from Ecuador working in UK nurseries or the fun Italian man who loves to laugh and studies Mandarin.

My encounters with these new friends and my travels overall have made me more grateful than ever: for being English speaking, for having a friendly face, for having the chutzpah to take off and travel alone and learn so much. I also have a new appreciation for my friends and family for being the stability I need in my life and the people I can forever share my experiences and memories with. So it's with a new humility and openness to experiences that I sign off on this Eurotrip. Arrivederci, au revoire, adios, and until next time :)

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I'm so grateful that I got this opportunity to travel and discover the world. I just turned 20 right after this Eurotrip, and with that comes the realization that I will never be this young again. Hell, I'm already getting tired a week or two into traveling; imagine the exhaustion I will feel from traveling a few decades from now! I'll be limited in the places I can see as my muscles weaken and I have more responsibilities to my name. The upcoming 5 or so years are the best years for me to hike the mountains of Peru or explore the streets of Vietnam. Despite this Eurotrip, there's still so much (if not more) that I want to see. However, it's nice that this trip has taught me so much about my traveling preferences. Through travel, I want to learn how people live so I can better empathize with others and expand my mental schema to understand the world. It'll be a long term goal, but I'm excited to see where my future travels will take me and what new lessons I will learn.

Eurotrip (Part 2: The Group)

If you want to learn more about my Eurotrip, check out Part 1 of this series. These posts are all focused on the lessons I learned and adventures I had during my travels. This one is on the second week, which was mostly spent with MIT friends. I hadn't seen many of them in months, so this served as a wonderful Italian reunion :)

The Group

Traveling in a group of five, Ruth, Priya, Virup, Jin, and I took on Italy. I took the train from Rome to meet up with them in Florence, and of course, ended up jumping on the wrong train and making a 1 hour journey into a 4 hour one. Luckily, I was able to get in contact with them thanks to our universal wifi savior: Mcdonalds. You can always count on Mcdonalds, no matter what country you're in!

Florence was one of my favorite cities with all of its quaint village charm. I was glad I got to share my time in Florence with such great friends as we ran from market to Duomo, leaving raucous American laughter in our wake.

Cinque Terre was also one of the best hiking experiences I've ever had, especially in the company of avid hikers. The initial day of rain didn't dampen our spirits as we prepared for an early start the next day over thick hot chocolate and tiramisu. The villages all sported infinite winding alleyways that allowed for easy exploring for our energetic selves. We spoke with shop owners, marveled at the simple yet charming lives of the residents, and enjoyed our youth over the views of teal blue water.

Traveling in a group definitely contrasts with both traveling alone and with one. With a group, it's easy to feed off the energy and adrenaline of everyone, so 7AM wake up times and late night drinking are no thang. However, with more people comes more inertia. Moving from place to place takes longer and there was a lot of splitting up that led to some panic attacks, but mostly "searches" that ended in carousel rides and running through shops. It's also nice because you have built-in breaks. You linger over meals, spend more time deciding where to go and how to get there, and generally spend time enjoying each others' company. Solving problems with a group is also inherently less stressful than doing it by yourself. The whole bag storage fiasco ended in more laughter than anxiety, although I know I would have been stressed out had I been on my own. I also developed a deeper appreciation for hiking. In no other context would I have woken up at 7AM to catch the sun shining through the clouds from the top of a cliff. And without my friends dragging my ass out of bed, I would have missed a beautiful view of the world.

Traveling in a group of good friends is no doubt the easiest guarantee of a good time. It's easy, it's fun, and you have people you love to share the experience with. It's definitely my preferred mode of travel, but that's not to detract from the unique benefits of traveling alone or with others. More thoughts on that in the next post! :)

Eurotrip (Part 1: The Boyfriend)

In classic Connie fashion, I'm making this trip a learning experience.

My travels took place in three parts: with Mike, with friends, and with myself. Each leg of the journey lasted about one week, and I'm writing a post about the unique experiences and lessons from each. The location was much less important than the people I was with; I would have had very different experiences in each place had the people been different. It just makes me all the more grateful for the wonderful people with whom I get to share being alive. So without further ado, I present Part 1: The Boyfriend!

The Boyfriend

We started off in Paris. Both carrying only a backpack for the next three weeks, our mobility was streamlined, meaning one less worry for the trip. Our time in Paris was largely characterized by pastry consumption and lots of walking. I'm interested in understanding the cultures of the places I travel, so I strongly prefer walking over taking public transportation so I get a chance to see more of the city. It's crazy to see people casually go on a daily run by the Louvre or observe the friendly interactions among the people of Florence, moments that I would miss if I didn't see them in passing. I enjoy wandering with loose plans that give me a chance to serendipitously discover the pulse of a place.

I don't mind tourist traps with a great view though. Anything that involves a bit of a hike and a satisfying overlook of the city is worth it to me. On that first night, the overlook of Paris from Montmarte was magical. The twinkling lights of the city with people from around the world singing Beatles songs was surreal.

Next stop: Barcelona. This was definitely a favorite: the beaches, the local flair, the bustling markets, the great food, and the hipster fashion was everything I wanted and more. It was such a casual place with men running out into the streets at 2PM for a game of soccer and people lounging by the water with a pint of beer, soaking in the afternoon rays. We also participated in an eatwith, which was a great chance to share a meal with some wonderful strangers. If you haven't participated in an eatwith before, I strongly recommend it. Much like how airbnb gives anyone a chance to run their own bed and breakfast, eatwith gives home chefs an opportunity to run their own pop-up restaurant. It's especially great while traveling because you get the chance to meet people familiar with the area and enjoy a meal of local cuisine. Our new friends recommended we try calcots, large green onions grilled to a charred black, and then served with a tomato sauce. They are the Barcelona equivalent to the food served at US barbeques. So the next day,we set off to feast on calcots, and ended up at a rustic restaurant with the friendliest waiter. He spoke to us in Chinese, laughed with us, and served us post-lunch shots, saying that they were the Spanish equivalent to a very strong Chinese alcohol. Without a doubt, the people we met largely defined my experience and are what I will remember most about the city.

Rome was a bit of a disappointment. It was overrun with tourists and seemed more of a historical site made into an amusement park than a city of unique individuals. Maybe it's because we didn't get the chance to meet many people, but Rome wasn't very satisfying. The water poisoning and subsequent nights of vomiting were also a fun curveball. The sights from the Orangerie gardens and the Knights of Malta Keyhole were memorable, but other than that, not much happened besides food and history.

And with that, we closed our adventures. These travels taught me quite a bit about myself, Mike, and our relationship. I learned how weak my stomach is, a good thing to know for future travels. I also learned how tiring it can be to travel with only one other. The increased mobility is a blessing and a curse: you can see everything, but moving around all the time is the best way to burn out. However, it can also be quite relaxing not having to balance the needs of a whole group. Mike and I are luckily compatible travelers: we both get tired at around the same rate and are interested in similar things. However, being in close quarters 24/7 was a new experience. Traveling is unlike the working/student life when you mostly see each other in the evenings and your day is interspersed with interactions with others. It's just two people. These unique circumstances helped me appreciate a lot of things about Mike: his leniency, his focus on enjoyment rather than frugality, his ability to balance work and play. You discover a lot about a person by traveling with them, and I'm grateful for this opportunity to discover not only new places but also new appreciations with Mike.

Quantification

I've always defined myself with numbers.

It makes sense though. I'm an engineer by study (although I like to think that I'm designer at heart) and numbers have always come easily to me. I'm naturally predisposed for quantification. In general, our minds also wrap around numbers more easily than around descriptive statements. Quantitative is just easier to comprehend than qualitative: easier to explain to others, easier to scale, easier to prove progress.

And that's why investors and grants all want quantified evidence of progress. However, just because something is quantifiable, doesn't mean it's a valuable measure of success. Often, great opportunities and ideas are passed up because they're difficult to quantify. Take education. Out of all US Foreign Aid, only about 3% goes towards improving education (USAID 2012 Performance Report), while arguably, an educated population could be the best path towards change. Unfortunately, educational progress isn't easily quantifiable. You can't assign a number to how a teacher inspires students or how a student suddenly adopts a new interest in art. Instead, educational progress is reflected in the personal anecdotes of teachers and students seeing the transformational, unquantifiable changes happening day to day. When you start looking for numerical evidence in education, you create a dependence on test scores, standardization, and percent increases rather than what's really important.

The same goes for companies. By solely looking at the profit margins since Marissa Mayer became CEO of Yahoo, you'd say the last two years of her leadership have been a flop. However, looking beyond shows that she has rebuilt the foundations of the company and rebranded it from a search engine to a mobile pioneer. This has been a huge time and resource investment, but an internal overhaul that will change the company's trajectory forever. Maybe these changes aren't showing results yet, but it's unfair to say the work has been useless. However, that's the conclusion a lot of people are coming to because there are not yet many outward-facing successes.

Thus, quantification deters risk-taking. When you're looking to impress with annual progress and big numbers, you're going to go for easily achievable results rather than the transformational changes that take much longer to implement. Which is why when I noticed my own dependence on numbers, it was clear that I needed to change. In high school, my number was my GPA. I became obsessed with achieving the highest score possible because that's how I measured my worth. I made short-sighted decisions in order to fulfill my quantifiable definition of success. 

Recently, my number has been my weight. Instead of asking myself if I feel like I look good, I'm reliant on a measurement to tell me how to feel. In addition, quantifiable goals often become moving targets, and setting these unreachable standards has become way too common. It's why people can't escape the hamster wheel of finance. It's difficult to reach a point of having "enough" if enough is never defined and ever-changing.

So now I'm making a conscious effort to not quantify everything, and to look through a qualitative lens instead.  Quantifying limits the ways in which we can view ourselves. It's on us to be conscious of quantification and make our own decisions for when and where it is valuable to have numbers in our lives.

(re)Defining Directions

I hoped to find direction by moving in a different one.

Cambridge was my way of literally and figuratively moving out. Moving out of MIT into somewhere new, moving out of my comfort zone into the unknown, and whether for better or for worse, moving.

Since then I've found that being out of the MIT intensity has been a double-edged sword. I needed the change of scenery to disrupt my mental bubble, but the lack of like-minded, passionate people at Cambridge quickly led me to complacency. DFA used to be my reminder of why I get up in the morning, but now I didn't have that constant tap on the shoulder.

After a lazy month of thinking about the future only in passing, the internship search catalyzed my focus. "What am I doing this summer" led to "What do I want to do for the rest of my life?" The internal conflict between d.thinking and engineering, people and product, the personal and the physical, kept recurring.

And now I'm trying to find my niche on the spectrum.  Where do I belong? What do I want to spend the rest of my life doing?

I love working with people, but don't want to waste my engineering background. I appreciate the quick iterative process of design, but want physical deliverables to show for my work. I love the buzz of gathering user insights, but am too aware that "understanding people" doesn't sound like a legitimate interest, especially in the engineering world. My background has made it so I will never be completely satisfied by the fluffiness of strategy or organizational design. On the other hand, a completely hardware approach will keep me wanting for more personal interactions.

So where's this leave me? Mike has inadvertently taught me a lot throughout this search. Seeing how passionately he pursues projects, I see my own passion for working with people. His excitement for solving difficult problems is the same as mine for advising project teams or redefining organizational structures. It's clear now that my heart is not in hardware design itself; I'm driven by the people I can affect and the minds I can change. I want to inspire, and that's easier for me to do through interacting rather than creating. For me, product design has always been a means to an end and that's no way to go about things: I know I will never be completely satisfied in hardware design when I am living from the high of one user interaction to the next.

So the struggle is now in finding the perfect balance, and many flowcharts and cafe visits later, the working idea is this: 

Start a design consultancy that has two focuses:

1. Design solutions for impact-driven clients looking to redefine how people live in a meaningful way (vague I know, but it's a start :D). Shoutout to Gravity Tank for doing some damn cool and inspiring consulting work.
2. Redefine CSR by having employees mentor students in design for social impact projects. Take an active role in the community like ideo.org or Vecna do. This will hopefully set a new precedent for corporate community engagement.

So that's where I am now, and I'd say that's a pretty reasonable start. I'm sure this idea will go through many iterations in the next few months, even weeks, but the core is there: I want to impact lives and understand people. The path to get there will likely wind through many obstacles, but I'm more confident with those uncertainties now that the goal is defined.

The Beauty of Theory

And how Cambridge has helped me see math as an art.

At MIT, it's easy to get caught up in the routine of things. Mindlessly powering through psets is common, and it makes sense when there's always too much work and too little time. An MIT education is known to be like drinking from a firehose, and for good reason: work comes in a constant stream and respite is hard to come by. But MIT, despite the firehose that it is, does have its merits. It relentlessly exposes you to so many concepts that you quickly learn how to learn. If there's anything you can be confident in after graduation, it's your ability to pick up concepts quickly.

But exposure is all it is. Cambridge emphasizes something different: understanding. It mimics graduate school in its emphasis on delving deep, not wide. There's much more time to focus on not only finishing problems, but also fully exploring concepts down the rabbit holes of textbooks and online resources. You get weeks instead of days in between learning concepts and applying them, so there's plenty of time to let the neural networks mature between new ideas and old. The Cambridge learning environment promotes a curiosity to really understand a problem rather than booking it to office hours the night before a pset is due. It's a much more traditional approach, and it puts the responsibility on the students to have the internal motivation to learn. However, I feel that I can only fully appreciate this freedom because I have experienced the other extreme. I value the time to explore topics because I know the rushed dissatisfaction of not having that luxury. Just like how you can't fully appreciate happiness without knowing disappointment, most of the value here lies in the contrast. So it's hard to definitively say that one way of learning is better than the other: students benefit from a balance of the learning types and to help them see how they can complement each other. 

After being exposed to Cambridge's focus on understanding, I have a new appreciation for the beauty of how disparate concepts work together. It's a painting of academia, a dance of intertwined ideas. I'm addicted to the mindblowing feeling of finding connections between concepts in seeming disorder. It helps me view the world from a distorted, unique perspective, similar to the way psychoactive drugs work. Johann Hari explains how it is human nature to seek out the high of living, which could translate to an innate craving for understanding just to have a heightened sense of the world.

From photography to music, art tries to preserve the beauty of the world, but in an exaggerated sense, a saturated sense, an abstract sense. Math and science are beautiful in their truthfulness. They define the world in an honest glory, without the excess or frills. Studies show that the same parts of the brain fire when people appreciate art as when mathematicians see beautiful math. So why the constant bickering between the humanities and science? They both exist to fulfill the same goal: represent the world's beauty. There's so much intersection between the goals of the two that if anything, they complement each other more than they oppose.

When I came to Cambridge, I expected to encounter new sights, new smells, a new experience to be appreciated by the senses. However, I've also been introduced to a scholarly beauty that I couldn't have imagined. Thank you Cambridge for being a beautiful place in every way possible. :)

How Travel is Making Me a Better Designer

Design and travel don't seem to have much in common.

However, there's a lot of merit in traveling to become a better designer. Design today is often driven by user-centered research: a focus on personal stories to influence design direction (Julie Zhou wrote a great article about user-centered vs. data-driven design). One key component to effective user-centered design is empathy. User-centered design is dependent on understanding a wide spectrum of users, making it crucial for designers to have a good conception of people unlike themselves.

And what better way to find those disparate people than through travel? This semester abroad has pushed me to understand people in a way exactly parallel to what a designer needs. Travel elicits an empathy and understanding of cultural perspectives that fosters open-mindedness.

There's a popular theory that there is no such thing as a "real world". Instead, each person has a unique perceived world that is influenced by their past, their present, their personality, their culture, and everything else related to the individual. Thus, each person experiences a unique world, a pretty crazy concept when you consider that billions of people living on the same Earth are actually living in different worlds crafted by their own perceived constructs. (whoa .-.)

Empathy is then just a practice of being open-minded to other people's worlds. And being a designer gives you the master key to access all of those worlds and understand the nuances among them. From my completely unbiased view, I'd say that's pretty exciting. However, the role also holds its own challenges:

• You must be vulnerable: to learn about others' worlds, you have to share a little, or a lot, about your own. It's not a time to hold back from telling your story.
• It's time-consuming: if you want to learn about others, really learn about others, be ready to make the time investment to do so. This isn't a few weeks' process. Building strong relationships and laying the foundations of trust isn't a process you can speed along. It's no wonder that designers invest so much into flying to the far corners of the world just to talk to target users: establishing a personal connection is a crucial part of the design process. 
• You have to be willing to take risks: you're going to end up leaving your comfort zone, and quite often. The only way to expose yourself to new people is to try new things. Go to a swing social, attend a street art festival, make time for a raunchy comedy show. Be the type of person you normally aren't to meet the people you normally wouldn't.

My last few weeks in Cambridge have taught me a lot about building relationships with people who think, react, and experience differently from me. It's coming up on exactly a month in Cambridge, and I have finally started to feel assimilated into the university. I've developed a better sense of self here, and I think that has made me even more resolved that ultimately, I want to spend my life inspiring people to be their best selves. That means seeing the similarities between me and very different people with very different goals, and having the empathy to relate to their situation so I can help the best way I can.

Empowering people is my design challenge, and I thrive to tackle it with the empathy and understanding of a user-centered designer.