My Resolutions for 2012

Might as well, I mean everyone is doing it, right? But I can’t let myself be too vague, blabbering about “F*#$ 2011!” If I am to follow in the foot steps of millions of other Americans by making new year’s resolutions, I might as well make concrete and sensible ones. So as I wrapped up the most eventful (trust me, that’s an understatement) year of my life, here’s to year 2012!

1. Work out everyday. I did work out everyday during the summer but it seems like everything gets pushed aside when I’m in school. I do want my abs back. So here’s to my abs!

2. Pass all 4 parts of CPA exam. Truthfully, I want to finish it before I start my new job in August. I start studying tomorrow for the first part. Let’s hope this is quick and easy. At least not long and painful, :D.

3. Finish my academic career at University of Nevada, Reno, having built a platform on which I can further continue as an academician if I so choose to be in the future. I’m leaving it vague for a reason, haha, even though I said I won’t be. My blog, my rules, :P.

4. Experience So-Gye-Ting (소개팅, or blind date). Supposedly this is really common in Korea.

So I don’t think these are too unrealistic. Let’s see how much I get done by the year’s end. Happy new year everyone.

Leap of Faith

All great things are achieved in uncertainty. The fear of losing what we value the most, whether that be time, pride, or even a friend, hinders us from achieving that greatness, resorting, instead, to a more pedantic approach to getting what we want—settling. Perhaps the reason why we settle is because settling allows us to know what is ahead of us; it allows us to avoid discovering the unknown had we traversed another path. Settling brings peace, calm, and comfort. And vacuity.

Indeed the difference between a person who settles and a person who wades through uncertainty could just be the difference in variations of fear—nothing more. The impetus for a person who doesn’t settle could be the consternating fear of living a life filled with “what if?” whereas that of a person who does settle could be an immobilizing panic that we may not have what it takes to take on the uncertainty.

I fear, just as well as other driven individuals, failure. “No” haunts me in every aspect of my life. I don’t want to take so many wild chances that I become so apathetic to rejection but maybe enough to realize that rejection still stings. All considered, one thing is clear—I take comfort in my failures knowing that I did my very best, that I left no coin unturned. There is no feeling of vacuity because I know that I maxed out both my physical and mental faculties, even if they were not enough.

Don’t get me wrong, life is already challenging enough, and it exhausts me to no end. But failures have value in themselves, and they serve as important reminders that propel me forth—keeping myself within the boundaries of the known will do nothing but impede my growth and happiness. Remember, all great things are achieved in uncertainty.

New Hope: Part II

“Why aren’t you graduating with distinction?” A friend pointed out the uncharacteristically empty space on my name card at the graduation ceremony. “WHAT?!?” was the response when I told others that I lost the Millennium twice (Millennium Scholarship was initially funded by the settlement money received from tobacco companies and is relatively difficult to lose, even harder to lose twice). These responses indicate that others expected something better than ordinary from me, and such expectations derive from their personal experiences with me, both casual and academic. So why is there this discrepancy?

Let me first preface the explanation by the following tenets, my guiding principles which I lived by for the last two years: 1) if you want to improve, be content to be thought foolish and stupid; 2) do not fear failures but embrace them as opportunities for profound reinvention; 3) only those who dare to fail greatly can achieve greatly; 4) always, always have hope.

When I switched from biology to business, I was at the bottom rung of my class. I had already lost the Millennium twice and was hair above the probation level. But when the previously mentioned event changed my perception of my surroundings and consequently reshaped my priorities, I was given sufficient reasons to not give up hope–not just yet.

The following two years have been nothing short of remarkable. In 22 months, I took and completed 84 credits (averaging 21 credits a semester for four semesters), yielding only one B+ and one A-. I took on three different leadership roles, one at work and two at school. I had averaged 25-hour work weeks while going to school full time. I studied and took the GMAT and scored 660, a formidable score considering I already had an overwhelming schedule. And how can I forget, I somehow managed to fit in one crush and one heartbreak all within that time frame.

Even my own father, a graduate of business and law from the most prestigious school in Korea, Seoul National University, was amazed by my astounding and rapid turnaround. Many people would hear my story and flatter me with “you’re smart,” or “you’re brilliant.” I like to think otherwise. If I were truly smart, I like to believe that I shouldn’t have had to work so religiously to get to where I am today–it should have been a cinch. Some of my friends became exhausted simply by looking at how much I studied. My achievements are not the result of my intelligence; rather, they are attributable to my tenacity to believe in hope.

It’s not difficult to believe that there is an end to a tunnel when you’ve only been in it for a day. But it gets exponentially more difficult as days go by without even a hint of light from the other end. Doubts sink in, the tendency to give up hope rises, and the darkness threatens to engulf the person whole. I survived the tunnel for 22 months. And the only reason I survived was because I believed, whether doubts existed or not, that as long as I held onto hope, I would eventually see the end. Hope is the reason I am where I am today. Hope is the reason I continue to believe tomorrow will be a better day. Hope is the reason I believe in myself and in humanity.