'Tis a spring break




Finally, the tree branches aren't white because of snow! Also happy 1st birthday to this blog!


It is remarkable how a person's perception of time changes so drastically depending on their mood. The two (stretched into three) weeks of Winter Break seemed like an eternity, but Spring Break slipped by even faster than the length of a YouTube ad when you realize what are they selling. February and the first half of March have been utterly a rollercoaster. From personal, trivial things like the new school semester to tumultuous events around the world, my road into the spring has not been going smoothly at all. Still, I am so fortunate to have time to reflect on the current happenings by writing, my chief source of relaxation and contemplation. As though not writing down my thoughts would end up bursting my balloon of patience!


If writing doesn't help me to calm down, cookies I got from my neighbors for St Patrick's Day will.

The first major change that I have been going through is the beginning of Semester 2, which was also on the first day of the Lunar New Year. The school newsletter best described my sense of time: "January felt like June and February felt like September." It was not until the last day of the semester that I could feel the tremendous nostalgia seeping in. Although it was only 4 months since I began my first real school year ever in Vancouver, I enjoyed every minute of it. Never shall I forget the peaceful mornings finishing up one of my favorite novels ever, The Sympathizer (Viet Thanh Nguyen) in Literary Studies class; the hectic lectures in the tiered History classroom, where I enjoyed myself the most; the hours spent folding paper cubes and sticking triangles with clay in AP Calculus, all while conversing about college application anxieties; and playing Hangman in the sun-streaked Physics classroom. Before I realized it, the first semester was coming to an end.

On the last day of the semester, I walked down Dunbar street with my Math class, as a farewell to high school Math classes. Clad in all shades of coats, the class headed down the hill where my former school stood solemnly in the late January sun. I tasted my saccharine DQ ice cream while bracing for the chilly gusts blowing from Georgia Strait. Some of my classmates chitchatted with our dear teacher, while others were just quietly enjoying their sweet treats, contemplating the last Math class of their 12-year schooling journey. Later, the wind kept blowing, but our strides were gaining more pace as we climbed to the steepest hill to return to the school. Though I may be able to understand the Washer Method or solve integrals with inverse trigonometric functions faster than lightning, I could never count the steps needed to reach my future. However, cherished in the present, the sheer image of high schoolers climbing a steep hill together on a sunny day but with faces lighting up will never last in my mind.


Red bricks of memories

And so it was, goodbyes were told, and I had to just keep moving on. I had little time to reflect back to my own little world, as the worlds of millions are being shattered. As someone who tries to keep current events at their fingertip, I have long heard about the tensions between Russia and Ukraine, but a full-scale invasion in my lifetime was something I did not expect. In the midst of a raging pandemic, the world turns its attention to the brave people of Ukraine, who are living, caring, and fighting for their country at all costs. The solidarity with Ukrainians has spread its warmth to the furthest corners of the world, including my little neighborhood. The Flag of Ukraine can be seen anywhere, from the top of cars on the streets to the doors of little suburban homes. Students in the school are wearing blue and yellow ribbons on their chests, while fundraisers for aiding refugees from the war are gaining more traction. The hope is still high, for the tides shall turn in favor of justice and peace.

Stay strong, Ukraine. 

While I am contemplating in this ever-spinning world, the long-awaited March break knocked on the door without notice, as fickle as the spring weather in Vancouver. Having caught up with all the schoolwork in a few days, I started to binge-watch comedy shows, practice piano (Chopin's Waltz in A Minor - still trying to master the slurs), tend my camellia plant, and botched the cupcake I decorated at my friend's birthday party. On the weekend, I went to the nearby nature park to volunteer as a bird-watcher. My given task was simple: I had to count the highest number of birds landing on the bird-feeding site or perching on nearby branches. On warm days, the bird feeding site was brimming with vivacity: Amid the stark white birch trees, birds of all kinds chattered while sparrows sprang between branches, their fluffy tails trailing behind elegantly. Although it could get boring when the park was empty, birdwatching was good fun. I gradually learned how to differentiate between fox sparrows and song sparrows, spot Anna's Hummingbirds lingering at the red birdfeeders, or marvel at the flight of a Cooper's Hawk. In the few days that the sun could come out, I also embarked on cherry-blossom sightseeing. To my delight, the delicate fuchsia petals were still there despite the torrential drizzles of March. 

Rain or shine, they just keep blooming to their last petal. Like we all are.

  
Fuchsia skies



The chickadees were hiding among the bushes as I took this photo, but hardly ten seconds later they were all swinging again.

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