RAYS OF SUNSHINE.

I'm not standing still, I'm lying in WAIT.

2017-12-09T17:50:00.000-08:00

The lyrics of "Wait for It" always have me belting at the top of my lungs at any moment I hear them: in the shower, in the car, in my house when I am chilling out and trying to relax by listening to "Hamilton"... This line in particular: "I am inimitable, I am a original... I'm not falling behind or running late, I'm not standing still, I'm lying in WAIT." stands out to me because at 25, and living in 2017 with all the social media highlight reels of my friends' lives, I constantly need to remind myself that life is a marathon, and I am at a completely different point of it than my peers -- and comparing them is doing me no favors and not necessary. I am an ORIGINAL. And I am setting the chess pieces of my life into motion, but I also have to yield final control to the universe.

The steps I have taken: pursuing courses in Data Science and Public Speaking, applying to graduate school, making connections both in my company and in the Boston technology space--these are all steps into the identity I wish to pursue for myself as a technical expert who can eloquently articulate ideas at a vaunted role in society. Also, over the last few months, I have been asked many different ways and times about where I want to go professionally and trying to answer both short term and long term have enabled me to really hone in on what is important day in day out for my professional life and what can fall by the wayside. I feel as though owning my dreams and vocalizing them is paramount to achieving them, both personal goals and dreams as well as professional. It's a matter of accountability.

Personally, I feel as though I am finally reaching financial security, professional stability, and also developing friendships that are longer term and less dependent on historical ties and are more tied to socioemotional support. My friends who have been there for me, I am continuing to maintain relationships with. And those who aren't serving me, I am no longer putting effort into maintaining as "friends". For me, the difficulty comes with friends who live farway and whom I was close with in the past--I try my best, but these are the friendships that without technology, would completely cease to affect me. But whose Instagram stories and Facebook happy posts interrupt and plague me with questions like "Am I truly successful?" or "Am I where I ought to be at 25?" or "Why am I not having X?" "Why am I not making Y?"

Societal success is measured in such odd increments-- we see personal success as having a romantic long term relationship and eventually creating a family. We see professional success as monetary or as status: working for a high tech firm like Google or Amazon or making enough for a Tesla and owning a home. All of these things are based on previous luck and circumstances often beyond one's control. For me, the biggest blessing 5 years ago was dropping out of Harvard's Graduate School of Education because it propelled me on this quest to discover my true professional path and to experience true failure and come out the other side. I have been overwhelmed by gratitude for every opportunity I have achieved since, but I also have ultimately humbled by the realization that life is in the journey.

I long now to share these stories of my experiences these past few years because now that I have "made it", I realize "making it" is still an ongoing process every damn day. Even in my current job, I constantly am humbled by what I do not know, what I strive to learn, and where I hope to grow.

Life is a constant struggle, but the struggle is why we are here.

I know this may be completely incoherent blog, but the snow and being cooped up has made me ruminate on these ideas. So I thought I would send them to my usual void.

Goodnight, dear void.
XOXO,
Maithreyi

Routines vs. Ruts

2017-08-06T17:29:00.003-07:00

It has been about a month since I started at Everbridge. After some initial growing pains and family adjustments, I feel as though I have the semblance of a routine down.
6:30 wake up
7:30 get in shower
8:15 leave for the office
8:20 ish reach the office, get a coffee, get set up
8:45 start the work day
5ish/6ish leave work
go for a walk / meet up with friends / errands
eat dinner
watch or read something
sleep

from my instagram: a fox hill flower caught when I was running.

The day gradually loses it's rigid scheduling post-work, but I think that is healthy and necessary for me. The mornings are MY TIME, I have learned. No one else is awake. I love the sound of my feet hitting pavement. No dogs are awake to bark at me. I can belt my tunes out @ Fox Hill and have nary a witness. I love finding a new playlist, and just ambling on by, my feet figuring out the route of the day. Chasing the sun, but in a pleasurable way that lacks urgency and more infused with the effervescent of a new day dawning. And now that I have said it online, a small piece of that anonymity is lost. But it amuses me because this running or walking in my neighborhood self-care piece has been a longstanding habit of mine since middle school when I would take my fat iPod Video out on walks with a Harry Potter podcast loaded for the way, rain or shine. There's a calm quiet my brain enjoys because it fills that space with roaming thoughts and little queries and hums to life from the groggy sleep-mode of the night. That time is vital. No negotiations-- it is carved out on my calendars as ME time. But the beauty of a morning routine is that no carving is inherently required; sunrises occur daily, but you have to will yourself not to miss them.

xoxo,
maithreyi (or I guess I go by Ray now? A post on that development to come! :P)

Livin' up to that man on the moon / happy 25th!

2017-07-19T18:38:00.000-07:00

For most people, New Year's is the time to a self check-in and evaluate the they're on and adjust course and make plans for the year ahead. Personally, I do New Year's resolutions, but I can NEVER hold myself to them too attentively, telling myself that I am "allowing room for life to just happen." So, a good mid-year inventory is on my birthday: 7/20.

walden sometime last fall.

The day I was born was the day that Apollo 11 landed on the moon and Neil Armstrong spoke those words forever changing the reach of humanity: " One small step for (a) man one giant leap for mankind." Naturally, this became my own personal benchmark for lifetime achievement. For better or worse, in the deepest reaches of my soul-- I ache to be remembered as an agent of change and a force for good...And to potentially equal the moon landing with my contributions to mankind. Tall order, but I am just competitive that way!

So without further ado, 5 things I learned in the past 25th year of my life;
1) I love to write, but calling myself a capital W writer still doesn't quite sit right with me. Also writing for me helps to get my brain from point A to point B to point Z, to process. When I am lost, I am a paused and refreshing GPS, "recalculating...RECALCULATING...RECALCULATING!" how in the world I got so totally and completely off the beaten path.
2)
Any shift-style job requires and demands one's whole energy, humility, patience, understanding, ad empathetic mindset balanced with equal parts urgency and grace. I am still harnessing these qualities, but I definitely learned way more than I intended to through my 1.5 years donning a green apron at Starbucks.
3)
I have a monumental fear of rejection that paralyzes me from even starting on something my heart may especially want. My head negates and will deny the need for that action. For opinionated or creative pursuits especially this rings true because this fear of rejection is rooted in a want for acceptance, and rocking the boat risks that in a way that startles my core. I think back to so many instances in the past year where instead of my normal mode of speaking up or stepping up to the plate, I got frightened at the mere idea that my thoughts may not be of value. This year, being at Starbucks and feeling underappreciated as a person were intertwined, and this ultimate, overwhelming confabulation of my existance as a pure FAILURE was like an ocean that simultaneously kept me threading water, but without a paddle or a raft to get to a safe shore. Shutting up and isolated in a sea of my own making. My goal for 26 is to get better at vocalizing this when I see it in myself and seeking out help and community in friends and family and potentially writing groups or other ventures to shift my fear of my own voice and leaning towards being heard.
4)
Being an unpaid caretaker, either as a wife or a family member or so on, does not negate that person's worth or value, and comes with its own baggage, meaning, and cultivated skillset. When I was younger, there was something so glamorous about women who worked. Their kids had more "stuff", had more time to themselves, and generally seemed, for lack of a better term, COOL. With my previous faults, my longing for acceptance led to my disdain for the concept of being "just a housewife." Spending extra time with my grandmother, who lost my grandfather almost 2 years ago after a extended battle in hospitals and late night ambulances, taught me not to be so dismissive of these powerful women figures in our history and our lives. My grandmother leads an immensely vivid and fulfilled life. She raised three children, and helped to raise 6 grandchildren, and had a 50-year marriage stronger than titanium. She learned multiple languages, and performs veena even still. She has this innate ability to make friends wherever she goes and an intuition for understanding how to be straight in a loving way with all in the family. She never stops walking with grace and a quiet power. When my grandfather was alive, he would defer to her decision-making, and just seeing that respect for her authority makes me realize that my role as a woman is to honor the innate genetic need to care for, support, and nurture others, but not to deny myself my curiosities and passions either. There is a beauty in living life as it comes and developing consistent yet small passions, too. For my grandmother, this is knitting and related crafts! She has recently fallen in love with Youtube and always searches out challenging patterns to make and give to her grandchildren. Labors of love, always in the name of others.
5)
GROWTH happens out of one's comfort zone. For me, having a point-to type of plan for my life from 15 onwards (: college, (masters), PhD, research, marriage, kids, tenure...) hilarious in hindsight, was what was COMFORTABLE. it is comfortable and familiar to know what the directions are on the highway of life. But the best things in life happen with a combination of preparation and serendipity. That one sunset off that mistaken exit. That rainbow you only saw because you were going the "wrong" way. For me, trying to rely on graduate school to give me a lifeplan and purpose was also comfortable. It was complacent and removed agency. I honestly couldn't articulate what made me DECIDE to go to graduate school beyond the vague intent that I would get eventually to my ever-changing and nebulous final goal of affecting change on a societal level. My myriad rejections, first from institutions that I thought may suit me (Berkeley) to being ejected from an environment that was purely toxic (for me), to various rejections from all styles of job interviews and companies and career paths from teaching to pure management consulting to design, and rejection from a community where I had finally thought I HAD been accepted. Sigh.And that is not to mention the pivotal and Atlassian burden of societal rejection through underemployment at a food service shift job. All of these rejections brought me to a heightened fight or flight. Constantly pivoting, constantly seeking alternate routes to success. Constantly learning and growing. Being prepared but open to life's natural order is what led me to my current job. I am studying a data science certification right now, and though it is tough I enjoy what I am learning and finding that I have an aptitude for this type of work. Then I happened to put myself out of my comfort zone again by attending a networking event without bringing a friend. These two steps and a whole lot of good mojo and "The Secret" and general belief that things will work out eventually led me to a person who was equally open to serving and helping someone out. This small step CHANGED my life and I am rewarded with an incredible opportunity to grow, learn, and further inch toward my ULTIMATE goals. I used to scoff at the saying, "Do something that scare you every day," but find that it is true; if you want to grow quickly, you got to be deliberately uncomfortable and find comfort in the fact that eventually, you will learn and bloom like a long awaited orchid, beautiful and arresting, with grace and persistence. If you want to hear more about my last couple of years, I am definitely going to write a few more reflections about them. And if you are curious about what the heck I am up to, I am working at the SaaS company Everbridge & I love my new job. :) I will maybe write more about it as permitted, but fear not, I have lot more motivation and accountability to stay writing than in the past.

be mine, galentine!

2016-02-20T16:39:00.001-08:00

One of my best friends, Naureen, came to visit Boston from Miami over Valentine’s weekend. Every time I host someone, I realize the reasons why I moved back east, why these cold and dreary places still feel cozy enough for me to commit my life to. Also, I realize why I need to keep on keepin’ on even though life is an uphill climb in negative degree cold with the wind slamming in your face all day long.

A great galentine’s weekend is comprised of:

long late-night catchup sessions coupled with the restful sleep that only comes after giggling and feeling fully understood
aimless drives where the conversation totally causes you to lose track of where your destination is, reminding you life is the journey--in the doing, not the endpoint.
NOMTASTIC indian dinner & a movie (“How to Be Single”)
impromptu Sunday brunch with new & serendipitous friends
LA Burdick hot cocoa, smooth, rich, and satisfying right before heading to the airport

I haven’t had a girl’s weekend or a sleepover in ages, I felt like I was exercising muscles that hadn’t been moved in the longest of times, but the muscles were in my soul. Bantering, serving as a sounding board, being a wingwoman, and tourguiding are some of my favorite activities in my life, but I very rarely get the opportunity to do them.

NAUREEEN <3 aka my galentine!

My sleep schedule and my writerly, slightly manic tendencies make me a prime candidate for living alone, but I miss comfortable companionship of collegiate life. I miss heading to the library after dinner with my friend Alisha just to sit in carrels next to each other in silence as we both studied different subjects. I miss endless lazy Saturday brunches with my best friend Alexandra at Jacks & Joe, downloading the week and getting prepped for the next one. I miss my roomie of two years, Daksha for our funny chats over tea, so busy that those were the rare moments we would get a chance to hang out.

It is funny that being back in Boston, I don't have those go-to people. My go-to's are my hometown brownies, and they all have their own crews and are increasingly less go-to-able. I get that I have to make my own tribe, but I think this realization is so late in the game. It has been three years of me hanging on by the threads of my USC, CTY, and SAALT network. It is time to make a Boston crew that is mine & mine alone, but that also requires having stability of job and life. Also, my friendships have always been one-offs-- the only team-style friendship I have maintained has been my high school brown friends and even that is because we met in field hockey. When I see my friends with their work crews and school crews, I am so envious because that is never been my style. I want it, I crave it, but I love depth in my relationships. In Startup Institute, there was a fledging feeling that I would finally have that, but I didn't get a chance to see it through.

The one feeling I keep coming back to is this whiny, "When will it be my turn?" All I want is a shot, so desperately. A chance to prove myself in a job. A chance to prove myself back at school. A chance to prove myself as a good friend. I tend to prioritize people that make me just an option. The amount of times my so-called friends have cancelled on me causes my out of town friends and closer confidantes to chime in that they "aren't worth my time," and I should simply "make new friends". Making new friends takes MORE time, though!

our nutella and grahamcracker lattes on Saturday morning <3

Anyway, the funny thing about Naureen and my friendship is that without SAALT's Youth Leadership Institute, we never would have met. But if you add up the physical time we have spent together, it is less than a week! Even so, the little time we spend and the amount we keep in touch make me feel like she's always in my corner. That is true friendship. Between her, Marvin, and Amit, I am so happy I had decided to even apply to SAALT's YLI because I almost didn't. The timing was right amidst finals, and I remember that fledging hesitation I had, and that moment I told myself "Why not? You can deal with finals if you make it." I am trying to have that approach to more things in life now: just DO IT, and deal with the consequences later.

Especially with my new media project: "Coffee, <Chai>, & Convo with YOU16". I feel like the perfect is always the enemy of the good in these cases, but because I am doing it at the Burlington Cable Access Television station, I have no option to keep tweaking and must just get the content up and running as soon as it is ready. This makes me be less harsh on myself out of sheer time crunch and necessity. Good enough is indeed good enough!

Here's to a more intentional & "shake off the trivial weakness of your heart, O Arjuna" vibe laden March :)

XOXO,
Maithreyi

P.S. : I should really do a movie count of this year's movies watched down here...

Movies Watched: VI
Spotlight
Finest Hours
Revenant
Hail Caesar
Zoolander 2
Deadpool

monkey see, monkey do: HELLO, 2016!

2016-01-26T06:19:00.001-08:00

In 2016, I am trying to be less like Dickens, more like Hemingway.
Let's see how long it lasts!

2015 in 12 WORDS:

JANUARY: encumbered

FEBRUARY: unsteady

MARCH: CHOKEHOLD

APRIL: shufflin'

MAY: resolute

JUNE: reflectioneering

JULY: hope

AUGUST: tenacity

SEPTEMBER: LIT

OCTOBER: AMAT (she loves)

NOVEMBER: B U R N E D.

DECEMBER: figure-8

LAST YEAR , the theme of my resolutions was "dreams-into-plans" & I am happy to report that I lived up to them. This upcoming year, is all about EXECUTION because that is what separates the wheat from the chaff in entrepreneurship and in life. It's all well & good to say things, it's what you do that matters. Actions always speak louder. That's why it's taken me until the last week of January to write my resolutions out on this blog: I've been too busy LIVING! & I don't feel the need to apologize like I have in times passed. A lot went down in my life in November & December, and I grew more than I thought I was capable. Now I am truly on my own, and it is a happy thing but also very bittersweet in the realizations of all the quiet, calm, secure ways my family provided for me that I must now learn to do myself. It's exhilarating but absolutely exhausting. I am chronically fatigued, but also always excited for my next breath. To keep living. To have my heart keep on beating. It never ends.

To life, love, friendships, and growth. Make this moment count, and live a lifetime in a year.

Auld Lang Syne x

XOXO,

Maithreyi

From the Silk Road to the Information Superhighway: Navigating Diversity in Global Society Amidst Terror

2015-01-13T07:39:00.000-08:00

Last week, France finally hit the crescendo from the religious right toward the liberal left in the form of the attacks on Charlie Hebdo, a satirical newspaper who have published provoking comics, attacking every group and way of life as a way to poke fun at humanity. However, it can be said that you can mean what you say, and say what you mean, but you can never control how someone feels about it. And this was just the last straw for those "extremists" living in France.

The French government places so many restrictions on faith practices that differ from the French or Gallic way of life. Christianity is allowed to be openly expressed in the form of Christmas markets and festivals, while hijabi women are condemned for wearing their faith expression through fashion.

The meanings of faith expressions belong to those expressing, not the government. If you ask a hijabi woman if she feels she has freedom in relation to what she's wearing, she oftentimes does. The case for forced burqas and hijabs is little, and there is quite a sense of agency that is involved in the decision to cover up. This decision many women make on their own, with guidance from family and friends, and they can revoke it at any time.

In similar fashion, post-9/11 was when my mother began to work. She wears bindis daily as an expression of our Hindu faith, and often wore traditional dresses out and about with our family. These totally acceptable means of faith expression suddenly became more questioned. Though we luckily did not experience direct threats and insults like our Muslim and Punjabi brothers and sisters, we did undergo what I call the "waves of confusion", that initial double-take when one walks in the room, just because of the color of one's skin.

We all got used to it, but it doesn't hurt any less when people ask you "Where are you from? No, really." Or when the lady working for Universal Studios tells you to introduce your family as "coming from India" whilst opening the park, because it sounds more exotic than Boston. Treating your countrymen like foreigners may be convenient, but it is also an easy way to lose countrymen. In the United States, there is a growing trend of immigrants re-emigrating to their home countries, due to economic opportunity, but also possibly in part due to the feeling of acceptance.

Unfortunately, first generation immigrants, including my family and I, have a harder time with staying or leaving because we have invested so much of our lives denying our homeland in order to achieve assimilation, acceptance, admission. When I worked in India this past summer, I questioned whether I could even survive there, because unlike a second generation immigrant or a native, born and raised, I am the transition.

I am the arrow from India, to Singapore, to the United States. I am a third culture kid, a go-between, at home in airports more than ports. At home in ports more than farmlands.

When I left Boston for Los Angeles, I started understanding and experiencing those microaggressions more and more often. At USC, I was forever the girl caught between worlds. I did not quite fit right in with the second-generation, American-born desis, nor did I fully understand my Indian friends from the subcontinent. But over time, I realized that as an arrow, I connect. I work to understand and adjust. I made friends with people on both sides of the bridge, and other bridge-builders. I realized that being mistaken for Latina was as much a compliment as a misunderstanding, Latinas are unquestionable parts of the DNA of America, whereas Indians tirelessly have to prove their Americaness.

I relentlessly have to challenge people's assumptions of me, prove that I am not, in fact, a foreigner. That I have truly lived here my whole life. That I played league soccer and took ballet. That I did improv and had a solo in the school musical. When will people stop being surprised? When will people treat me like it is completely natural that I am as complex as they?

It is easy for a white woman or even a black woman to be multitalented, but for an Asian, desi brown girl to dabble in the arts and the sciences? It is still rare to be appreciated on both fronts.

I would like to think it has gone away, it has gotten less relevant, but honestly this kind of profiling may never go out of style. Early that Wednesday January 7th morning, on my way up to Massachusetts from West Palm Beach, a TSA official ran my designer bag through many tests and questioned me. And when I asked her, jokingly, " Why does this keeps happening to me?" she replied, "It's like beauty, it's in the eye of the beholder," acknowledging the elephant in the security line: my skin.

I think that white America likes to pretend that we live in a post-racial world because it keeps the onus off them to truly be accepting and kind. Like #BlackLivesMatter so too do #MuslimsLivesMatter, and #JewishLivesMatter, & #AtheistLivesMatter. That empathetic spirit, to join rather than point fingers at, will be key for our country's core values and ideology to survive in this 21st century.

And more than just the nationalistic spirit of #JeSuisFrancais or #JeSuisCharlie or even #JeSuisAhmed, the open dialogue of understanding and exchange between the East and the West will be the love story of this age, if we let it. Much like the time of the Silk Road, we are in the time of global mixing of language, traditions, foods, and ways of life. The power dynamics of those relationships is shifting, too. It used to be that the West, with the UK and the United States leading the charge, were the ones to emulate. But now, with increasing credence given to Eastern practices of yoga, meditation, mindfulness, Buddhism, and Eastern medicines like Ayurveda and acupuncture, and the growing economic prowess of India and China as true superpowers, the West has finally met its match.

The Middle East, turbulent in its cacophony of wannabe heroes and freedom fighters, is just the same as it was in those Silk Road days. With claims of new religions and new philosophies, the syncretism of ideals and understandings, only a few deemed worthy of followers, this is still the norm. The use of faith to galvanize a society was the way power was expressed throughout history, and the fight to stop history from repeating itself unchecked is the charge of all citizens in this digital age.

With persistence & prayers peace,

Ray

Maithreyi 'Ray' Shankar

@reyisofsunshine

http://raysofsunshine.me

The Golden Rule & The Golden Mean: Creating Understanding From Attacked Ideals in Paris

2015-01-12T07:21:00.001-08:00

To be or not to be? To create or to destroy? To understand or to dismiss? These are the questions that I think of when I think of artistic freedom and cultural competency. The events worldwide this past week say much about how sophisticated world politics has become as well as the snowball effect of technology and media on human behavior. I am talking about the Parisian killings at "Charlie Hebdo" last Wednesday, January 7th, and the struggle between freedom of expression and maintaining human decency.

Here is Vox Media's in-depth coverage of the whole situation on a timeline: http://www.vox.com/2015/1/7/7507849/charlie-hebdo-attack-terrorists-paris-shooting

From @BBCNews

When we were kids, we were taught simple life lessons like "Say what you mean, and mean what you say because the people who mind don't matter, and the people who matter don't mind," and "If you have nothing nice to say, it's best to say nothing at all." This struggle for democratic free speech alongside patriotism against bigotry and destruction of immigrant cultures in pluralistic society is simply the summation of these simplest, humblest of lessons: "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

"Charlie Hebdo", as everyone now knows, was famous for its very outspoken approach to satire--never afraid to publish thought-provoking and critical comics and material, hitting every major faith group in its view. This targeted attack was very much an attack on the ideals of free speech and artistic expression, but in many ways this was the work of terrorists who refuse to understand the values that make our societies successful and free, and rather dismiss or blame the western world for the "corruption" of their homelands or people. It is a case of institutional self-pity, the very same that causes bullying in teens, but on an international scale. The terrorists realize their inadequacies, and instead of working hard to combat them in diplomatic or peaceful ways, they choose destruction of the enemy.

(From the Vox article)"Attacks on French Muslims from January 6 to January 10 (Tell MAMA UK)"

As far as I know, in international warfare, there is a rule of proportionality--the damage caused to civilians must be equal and measured, to achieve a "just" outcome. This rule almost seems as old as time, "An eye for an eye," though the international statutes are surprisingly as recent as the 20th century. In their response to Charlie Hebdo's outspokenness, the attackers are deliberately creating mountains from molehills. The resulting retaliation by French nationalists against Muslims, attacking mosques and inciting fear in their immigrant groups, causes division amongst the ranks of the French people.

Terror is not supposed to cause unity: its goal is to destabilize those core values that we tend to take for granted. In France, these values are Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite: freedom, equality, and brotherhood. I think that people are missing that empathy, and events like these reinforce the mentality that immigrants never truly belong in their adopted countries, no matter how many generations their families spend in their new homelands. This forever foreigner syndrome is prevalent in the United States, and the microaggressions it causes never have dissipated.

As someone who values voicing my thoughts and opinions and ideas, I am definitely for free speech, but for every person in the arts and media-- it is important to question the Why's and How's. Why are you creating this work? and How is this work contributing to society? And having the wisdom to reevaluate and reassess if the work does not have a good reasoning or a purpose. Even jokes should make one think, not just ridicule and criticize another faith, people, and way of life.

Emad Hajjaj of Al Araby (Qatar). The top line reds "in condemnation of the terrorist attacks against Charlie Hebdo" (from Vox Article)

It is important to exercise the Golden Rule in all things, and the Golden Mean. The idea of "everything in moderation" extends to one's approach to self-expression in that one should be mindful of the consequences of whatever they say or create. Artists are responsible for changing conversations and inciting debate and making people think. They should bear that burden honorably and not create gratuitous hurt towards other people. And we, the consumers of that media or art, should react appropriately.

Even media that offends you can renew your perspective on whatever topic the artist chose to highlight. This can help you to create or craft a response, creating a conversation through media. The pen, ultimately, is mightier than the sword, for ideas have lives of their own. The value of free speech lies in conscious and responsible dialogue, creating a just and fair society that values every voice equally in its improvement.

This is what I am thinking about whilst planning and writing for my new venture: a talk show on public access in my hometown. How to create mindful conversations about current events and what is going on worldwide, educating the public on how to be better citizens, and how our neuroscience influences us subconsciously. I think that crafting what one puts out there is essential, and having a keen eye for the influence one has is paramount to achieving success and creating understanding.

XOXO,
Maithreyi

Maithreyi 'Ray' Shankar
@reyisofsunshine
http://raysofsunshine.me

why yes, I DO dare disturb this universe. an ode to 2014 (:

2014-12-31T20:38:00.002-08:00

“For last year's words belong to last year's language. And next year's words await another voice.” ― T.S. Eliot

@Mahabalipuram with my father. The bandages are from the fight-or-flight incident mentioned below. Never bunker dive or run away screaming from wild monkeys into gardens walled by stone.

This year has been a trying one, but I am so grateful for how much I've grown emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. I questioned and hardened my core beliefs and values, which were tried beyond their limits.

This year marked many firsts and surprises for me. I quit school--stepping away from an institution most revere-- to examine what brought me there in the first place. I found that many situations were of the "right place, wrong time" variety or even the "wrong place, wrong time", with only time illuminating the difference.

My favorite meal in Hyderabad.
Paneer Tikka Masala Dosa, South Indian filter coffee, and mango ice cream.

I went to Hyderabad to work for Creya Learning as an Assessment Development Intern. I learned so much about operations and startups. I learned how a kind word could change my week. And sometimes, playing hooky to go watch "Maleficent" in the brutal Hyderabadi heat is just mandatory. I learned that "chai breaks" are actually for smoking (umm... no thanks?), and "walks" are for ice cream. I learned that food is the shared language of the soul. And how McDonalds fries can somehow transform a faraway empty box of a rented room into home. I learned that family is resilient, like rocks, weathered and beaten by the waves, yet ever present-- unbroken. I learned that when presented with an unmastered foe like the indian macaque, I lack the courage to fight on, and flee. I learned that my cousins are the same as me: in musical tastes, ways we think, our favorite foods. In a world where change is constant, it is nice to have go-tos, and give-ins. I learned how baus my grandparents are. And how much I value their input and opinions, sometimes even more than my parents'. They have age-old wisdoms, tried and verified. And my grandpa totally plays it straight with me, out of love and the mirrored self he sees. I learned that I can not only survive in my homeland, but somewhat thrive!

My mother and I at a randomly private Maine beach for my 22nd birthday (:

Then, I discovered how much fun a real down-home summer could be. I went kayaking and beaching with my family and my friends. I explored New England. I paddle-boated for the first time! I enjoyed every minute. I turned 22, and could fully understand that happy, free, confused, and lonely feeling Taylor Swift talks about, but mostly felt the happy & free.

Then, as summer turned to fall, I started to work. I started temping at Harvard, and learned just how much status matters at the ivy. Then, started temping at MIT, and realizing that etiquette, combined with my scientific know-how, and event-planning, can somehow all combine into all sorts of dream jobs for myself. I worked at MIT Media Lab & Admissions & MechE and stumbled into new professional and personal mentorships.

I started working for and with Paraclete pro bono and loving South Boston. I conducted walking explorations of Boston and Cambridge, often and lengthy. I joined a folk-dance team, Boston Garba, and performed at the same event I danced for more than a decade ago. I walked sunrises and sunsets to work. I started to run-- a true surprise in that I enjoyed it. I had a crazy Halloween, flanked by my best friends, and embodied MIA on a karaoke stage.

I gallivanted around Boston with one of my oldest friends, showing her my hometown and favorite spots. I learned how to have a proper night out. And how to face the music, and teach my parents that I am a grown woman and the art of empty-nesting.

I went to San Francisco for Social Innovation Summit, and ended up at the helm of counter-programming for the action-oriented "unconference", doing and being who I truly am at my core, serving my kind of people. While there, I happened to visit a few of my favorite human beings: my college best friend and my trojan big sister. Just the few hours I spent with them was enough perspective to help me get my life in order.

I drove down the Eastern seaboard with my family to move them into their next adventure in Boca. And I actually drove! I was at the helm through North and South Carolina, learning that roadtrips take their tolls on the drivers. I also appreciate my folks more for all they've done for me that I must learn to do myself now that they reside (mostly) in Florida.

Knights of the Armory exhibit in an empty Metropolitan Museum of Art. Thank you, @Sree!

I visited New York City (by car, regrettably) and fell in love with winter in the Big Apple. I reconnected with a friend, and cemented our friendship with deep talks and jokes. I learned that loneliness is not the same as being alone, and that I never truly am alone in this world. I learned to fend for myself through "things that just happen" to me.

@ Horn Pond in Woburn, after a crazy day.

I dabbled in the art of asking and being authentic, and was rewarded with open arms, positivity, and semi-employment. I cannot believe that I now am working in my hometown for both my local access cable station,writing&producing&hosting my own real TV show and developing curriculum initiatives for my middle school. It is the dream. Pinch me, I cannot believe that I get the opportunity to do this work, finally, for real!

Here's to more self-discovery and hard work to live the dreams we dream in 2015. Here are my new year's resolutions! Would love to hear yours (:

XOXO,

Maithreyi

Maithreyi 'Ray' Shankar

@reyisofsunshine

http://raysofsunshine.me

reyisofsunshine@icloud.com

#MY30Under30: Amrita Saigal: Friend & Mentor

2014-11-15T05:59:00.002-08:00

AMRITA SAIGAL

On my fifth birthday, we had only been in the United States for barely 2 and half months. Our big party for me was an undertaking, inviting all the Indian families in the apartment complex and friends of my father’s from work. There were only a few kids, and they were all a few years older than me, and palling around with my brother while I struggled to blow out my reigniting candles for the wishes, not for the act of wishing, not realizing my deepest desires were just about to come true.

After my party, my parents packed me and my brother up in the car. We headed to the “nice” suburban part of town, where the apartment complexes turned into two-story colonials, and every tree hummed with the energy of summer birdsongs. We turned into the parking lot of one Ranjani Saigal, a classical Indian dance (Bharatanatyam) teacher recommended by one of the family’s new Amreekan friends.

And though it started out as dance, the four within their Saigal clan have taught me more than they can imagine about life, family, sacrifice, and the power of hard work and dedication. That hazy July day, I met a family that changed my history forevermore. And though I don’t remember meeting her that day, Amrita Saigal did leave an impression on me from that year on.

The next year, our family had enough funds to purchase our own home in that neighborhood we so admired. And quickly, quickly, our home was the after school spot for those two precocious siblings who fit so well between my brother and me. Arun and Aditya had only a month age difference, while I who had so longed for an older sibling was granted one by the powers that be. Amrita showed me how to be “cool”, how to be “American”. She taught me about what the cool 5th graders were doing when I was in the 1st grade, and later when she was in high school and I was in middle school she kept doing the same.

In dance classes, I would be on the lookout for glimpses of her as I entered or left. Because unlike some of our naturally talented counterparts, “Amrit” and I had to work really hard to learn and to express and to become good dancers. I admired her work ethic, and hoped that someday I would be as well known and well liked as a hardworking dancing scientist as she.

As Amrita went on through high school and college at MIT, she became my parents silent benchmark and lithmus test for my achievements. “What would Amrita do?” suddenly became a natural refrain for me in regards to dance, school, and career. Though I am happy that I have veered slightly off course by choosing USC instead of MIT for undergrad, and becoming Maithreyi, rather than Amrita 2.0, having her as my first and truest role model had served me so well.

From Left to Right: Ranjani Saigal & Amrita Saigal. In back: Maithreyi Shankar.

When Amrita initially started Saathi through a D-Lab project, I was so excited. I had never once heard the term social entrepreneurship until she and her mother explained en route to a Sunday dance rehearsal one summer, but the words stuck out in my memory as ones to hold onto and remember. Saathi means friendship in Hindi, and any person near or far who is a friend to Amrita and to the Saigals can count themselves blessed. When she went on to Harvard Business School, with venture competition successes in hand, where many are questioned, "How?", in my mind, that precocious 10-year-old with the compassion to share and educate, even after school sticks out. She was born for this, no questions asked.

The serving of others through one’s personal skills and interests is what my life’s calling is, but I think that without Amrita Saigal’s constant presence and influence in my life, I would not be who I am today: a dancer, a scientist, and an entrepreneur-in-training. She is the definition of up-and-coming, and deserves to be not only outright nominated, but also inducted into the 2015 class of Forbes #30Under30.

Warmly,
Maithreyi

Maithreyi 'Ray' Shankar
http://raysofsunshine.me
reyisofsunshine@ icloud.com

peace, love, sunshine. x

"…I'm working at MIT Admissions."

2014-10-21T09:30:00.000-07:00

me with the stata sign in 2014

So, let's recap on where I was last on this blog: hopeful, going into my interview, which went incredibly well last Wednesday. Now, in the interim, my temp agency got me a short-term, data-entry gig at no other place than MIT Admissions.

me in 2010, pre-graduation from Burlington High School

I feel like I am living in a sitcom right now.

How can I portray HOW ridiculously full circle this opportunity was?

My tenuous, pre-frosh connections to MIT include:

my dance teacher who worked here for about 6 years
her kids are alumni ('10. '13) now, and were the accomplished family friends to whom my parents always looked to for inspiration and comparison
signing up, and never making it to Splash! after CTY every summer… sorry, MIT!
MIT SAT prep classes
performing/practicing at Kresge multiple times
volunteering for MITHAS
OBSESSING over MIT blogs, especially Mollie & Jess Kim circa 2006-2008
hanging in Central Sq for hip hop and then casually dropping by for Anna's on a few occasions
Boston Brain Bees 2008 (3rd place) and 2009 held at MIT Picower Institute of Learning and Memory

So to say I was an uninvolved pre-freshman student is to not understand how this school consumed my dreams for all of high school. I thought of little else, and my heart felt sick at the thought of giving it all up to go through the Resident Honors Program at USC in Los Angeles, CA. But I had the inkling that I may be back here in Cambridge eventually. That closing the door to an MIT undergraduate education was not slamming it shut forever, but rather leaving it unlocked. I mean, I had plans of Phds and a research career, and while those plans have evolved, my professional and doctoral ambitions have not faltered.

To be invited to do QuestBridge Data Entry was like being offered a chance to try out my dream job for a week. I know that I don't fancy working in Admissions full time (too many consuming stories, my heart would hurt too much), it's incredibly satisfying to be on the other side of these students' stories, to be able to play a part in their due consideration by MIT staff (who are incredibly kind, talented, and hardworking in their own right).

From my instagram (@reyisofsunshine). Cookies from donating to Alpha Phi for Red Dress Foundation, 1$ book that I am dying to read, and free noms for contributing to a tree of positivity. x3 #ihtfp: "I have thus found paradise."

Even at the Department of Mechanical Engineering, I noticed that here, staff cares about each other and cares about the holistic person behind the job title. Lunches are savored for the break in the day, as are rounds of coffee on the regular. The ethos is soooooo satisfying to experience in full after so much dreaming and forward-thinking nostalgia that was my high school connection to this place. The song "Driving Through A Dream" accurately describes how I feel. I'm waiting for someone to pinch me.

So, for the week, I am playing my role. The MIT temporary staff person, who happens to LOVE and embody lots of the character of the school. I feel like even if I never do anything else worthwhile at MIT, this will have been enough. The self-actualization of my high school yearnings come to life so vividly and acutely.

peace, love, sunshine. x

Ray
Maithreyi 'Ray' Shankar
Follow me everywhere: http://raysofsunshine.me
@reyisofsunshine
reyisofsunshine @icloud.com

Elusive Hero, Long-Lost Soulmate

2014-10-17T12:22:00.000-07:00

JFK's old sailboat that he'd take out on Hyannis weekends. x3

Finally, I am at a point in my personal independence that I could decide to take my morning for myself and spend it at the John F. Kennedy Presidential Library. Anyone who has known me knows my longstanding obsession with JFK, this library, and his Bostonian background. But this was the first time I had been back there since I was twelve years old!

And reading "Elusive Hero" with my legendary coke. (October 2014)
Spending good time reflecting on my life and the man who was so bold he looked illness&death in his life as part of his christian struggle. A man so amazing he followed his family's history yet reimagined their life. A true leader. Someone who was the everyman and christ incarnate for this country. My fave president. #jfk (September 2013)

Just seeing his sailboat and this site, right next to UMass Boston, relaxed me so much.
Reading Chris Matthews' "Elusive Hero" really helped me re-envision my starts and stops in leadership, service, writing, life in direct comparison with this great, mysterious man.

Harbor Walk view, with a sea gull chillin'

Is it really cocky or just confident to see myself in his story and struggle? Versions of myself over time, growing as he grew, learning as he learned. Seeing where my future and my big plans may take me scaffolded onto those of this Irish-Catholic, third generation Bostonian turned New Yorker turned President.

We shared so much of the same experience as

a second child
making simultaneous mischief and progress through school administration from an early age
illness in stomach and back problems
amassing sidekicks throughout our lives from different walks of life
closeness but expectations of family
being drawn to public service, then politics as a way to impact change and create good governance
his relationship with his younger sibling/my younger cousin
his relationship with his older siblings who died so tragically
his relationship and formation of his friends and his following

I could go on, but "Elusive Hero" is an amazing way of showing JFK as just Jack Kennedy, rather than John Fitzgerald Kennedy, and "What's he like?" rather than the myth that we see over and over again. This book makes me laugh to myself, and cry on the very same page, and highlight and smile at every word.

Reading this alongside Mindy Kaling's "Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?" gave me the two halves of myself: the funny and the serious. Again, just like Jack. I don't know how much of this will make logical sense to someone who is not me, but I really needed this calm quiet moment in my life to just chill, listen to two guys from Politico and DC talk about ISIS one table over, and just relax before the tumultuousness and mental turbulence that is a job interview. Especially an Americorps interview. JFK created the Peace Corps based on his experience in the Navy and his commitment to international development. Since I am from India and the diaspora in Singapore, I have that international bend to my life, but public service, and Americorps always appealed to me because its about how to make your home and your community thrive. We shall see where the wind blows.

peace, love, sunshine. x
Ray

Maithreyi 'Ray' Shankar
raysofsunshine.me
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Songs on Repeat: "Out of the Woods" ~ Taylor Swift
"Driving Through A Dream" ~ Andrew McMahon in the Wilderness

Flights Taken This Year: VIII

SoulJOURN to SAJA@20!

2014-10-13T08:04:00.000-07:00

When I hastily bought my SAJA ticket and booked my flight on a lunch break at work, I had no idea what I had signed up for. I am actively avoiding being desperate in my jobhunt and trying to play to my strengths and how others view my strengths (since I'm such a harsh self-critic!). Seeing what skills people routinely endorse you for on LinkedIn is a good indicator of where you fall professionally and how your network views you. For me, the top 10 relevant skills are blogging, social media, event-planning, leadership development, PR, education, research, and advocacy.

While professionally I have pursued and am pursuing the sweet spot of connecting this variegated skill sets, I have never pitched my sailboat of writing out my safe harbor, but I have been yearing for a venture into the moors of freelancing and professional journalism.

So, on a bleary Saturday at dawn, I took the leap, giddy and nervous. I took the bus, questioning if this was technically gate-crashing since I have never been a "real" journalist, per se. But always penned these words, always telling stories--whether on stage, in person, or on paper. "Is that enough?" I wondered, wandering onto the meandering F train.

Bleary Boston at 7:30am

Feeling like the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland, "I'm oh-so-terribly late!" but resolved: make this matter. I walk the slick, rainweathered misty streets of the Village, turn the corner to NYU. Grab the elevator. And am uncharacteristically and unduly intimidated by my 9-floor travel companions. (A founder of SAJA and a NYU administrator and another distinguished attendee.) All these journalistic giants, in the field longer than my life, esteemed ambassadors. A girl of words, I am stunned silent."What am I even doing here?"

I find my nametag at registration, edit to add the smiley face that I am trying to feel. Fake it 'til you make it. YOU CAN CALL ME: Ray I say, introducing myself. Lost between worlds; even desis mistake me for who I am not. I am Maithreyi: not Maitri, not Mythili, not Maithi, not Maitreya. No.

Maithreyi: a name which has such a beautiful narrative origin--another story, another time.
I'd like to think that she'd approve of my nickname Ray which is gender-ambiguous and immediately associated with the sun: Aditya, my brother.

I enter a packed panel, choose an empty seat, tryna be quiet but can't quite help the quirky habits I keep. Notebook out, tweets in hand. Pen in left to keep thoughts from flying another anchor like the one I wear on my right hand. Right to stay in place, Left to keep moving forward, across the page.

I listen to these greats, these accomplisheds ( Where Journalism Meets Advocacy: @TheSamhita, @cupofjyo, @wwborders, & Moderated by @MythiliRao) trying to think back to how the world must have been when they started on their own paths. Where I must have been, had I been at all. Connecting myself to their stories, seeing how the past and present can take me through this uncharted, ever-promising future.

Meeting a fellow crusader (@A_Cob) trying to navigate these waters from opposite coasts: I, from the scintillating scientific shores of LA and my home bay state, she from the funky hip hop scene of Philly to the health-beat, trying to follow her own voice. We soak up the wisdom of our peers who have made it (Operation Start Up: @reckless, @ozy, @ryan_e_galloway, Moderated by @anjuliks).
More than words, I increasingly realize doing this work is about having a Nike approach (JUST DO IT.) and grit rather than over-thinking.

I enter the job fair, and instead of unfocused, unhelpful, glorified salespeople, I am faced with the people who have the power to give me what I may want, if I have the courage to ask for what I seek.
I forgo a 60-second pitch in favor of forthright honesty. I have no copies of my resume; I am not a traditional journalist, but I am a girl who writes, and has been writing for 12 long years. What do you write about? Everything! The journeys of coming to and through a neuroscience education, my personal history, what drives and moves me as an aspiring neuroscientist turned educator. My drips and drabbles on entrepreneurship, as an activist.

And after a day of polished smiles and eager faces, truths are refreshing. I head to lunch, but emboldened, I start an elevator conversation with @cupofjyo. Overeager, but hopeful that learning her story will help me shape my own. We grab Mamouns to go, and I hop back to see the trekkers of "Unconventional Paths to Journalism" right as @WajahatAli, a man whose career I have followed, tells telling anecdote after anecdote tracing his route to semi-stardom. Empassioned, invigorated, I know I will start again, unyielding: from failure, I shall create: relationships and pieces I care about. I will cultivate my homies, investing in people and in putting out the best energy I can into the universe because that dharma/karma relationship is self-evident in those people I admire most. Leave it out on the field, don't do it for the fame. Do it for yourself. Do unto others.

Wajahat Ali, in his storytelling mode

As I enter "Democracy & Disorder (@marcellehopkins, @dhume, @habibanosheen moderated by @azmatzahra), I think about how we introduce ourselves. How politicians craft their myth as @dhume talks about Narendra Modi and explains the Obama-ization of Indian politics. The objectivity of the reporter which comes from reframing the approach to new people's stories as @habibanosheen explained of hard stories and retraining her natural human impulses in interviews. The confidentiality and intense responsibility involved in telling other people's stories through your own voice, as @marcellehopkins explains the hardship of documenting rape in "peacetime" Sri Lanka.

I eat some Insomnia cookies as I meet more new friends and debrief on action and next steps post-convention. We go to my 9:30AM elevator intimidator @sree's social media workshop. I sit on the floor, intensely reminded of dance classes on other Saturdays, looking up to a guruji teaching with animation. We laugh, we think, we reconnect. We bring others scattered all over the globe into this stuffed up workshop classroom, overflowing with chattering minds and hearts.

.@Om is one of world's top tech media titans. But did you know he co-founded @sajaHQ? http://t.co/6bJCOpcPXR #saja20
— Sree Sreenivasan (@sree) October 12, 2014

As I continue on to the reception, I reflect long and hard on how these serendipitous moments shape my entire narrative. Fight or Flight, over and over, again and again. I am so glad I flew to NYC to fight for my seat at this SAJA table. Meeting @sarojini, @parmarhema, Sana Uddin, and Brown Girl Magazine's @tsakhuja13 & @foprah showed me where I can grow and helped me realize how far I have come since starting my xanga post-summer 2003.

I leave #saja20 so excited: to write, to make impact, to keep in touch with these new soulmates who share the writer mentality and approach to life. I leave to meet my NY area SAALTines and a new friend, Preet. We enter Potatopia: I nom on their "I Think Therefore I Yam" as I yap on about my big plans and recent past, grateful to be amidst these movers and (SAALT!) shakers whose careers I so admire and whose friendships I value highly because they are hardwon and help me grow.

Amit Jani, Maithreyi Shankar, Preet Rajdeo, Marvin Matthew @ Potatopia

We eat, we talk, we eat some more, Washington Square Park the landscape on which we map our connections and our shared and fluid histories. I head to the airport, heart-heavy but also light with exuberance. This one-day-stand was too good to be true, New York City. We may need to become something more!

Much love to SAJA for a very well planned and very well attended 20-anniversary! To many more.

peace, love, sunshine. x
ray
@reyisofsunshine
maithreyi 'ray' shankar

Archive Book can be found here: XOXO, Maithreyi ;)
If you know me, please DM me on Twitter for offer codes!

raysofsunshine.me

Profound Meditation Through Password Hints

2014-09-25T08:54:00.006-07:00

typography break while applying. lyrics from Weight of Living II by Bastille

Self-reflection. It's something we as a people tend to save for later. Saved for the gaps in the rat race that is school and career. Saved for the comma in the sentence, the opportunity to breathe, granted once every few years. Saved for the pauses while we wait anxiously for life to press play again.

As Cory mentioned, half-birthdays are a good point to reflect on the road you're on, as you keep on running, but what about those unintended stabs of self reflection we've all seen dozens of times? Those questions that probe on our common experiences as humans, but also make you think about your life journey and how you got to here. That's right, the friendly little password reminder!

Since I am on the job hunt, I have been making account after account on different employer websites, and I am usually in such a hurry to just get on and submit the cover letter I spent the last hour perfecting, that I have mastered my username and password-making skills. But then, this screen will often stop me dead in my tracks. "What was the street you lived on when you were 5?" "Who was your favorite childhood friend?" "What was the name of your favorite teacher?"

These simple, inocuous questions make me think, sometimes really introspectively, about how luck, hard work, people, and opportunities have made me who I am today. They also make me thankful for every path I have been lead down because though they may not have seemed worthwhile at the time, they have all taught me valuable lessons and helped me in unforeseen ways.

When I read, "In which city was your first job?" my brain whirrs, running this inner-monologue. Does that mean the first-ever time I filled out a W-2? That would be blogging for The84, an anti-smoking campaign for teenagers back when I was in high school, getting paid $18 a post. The 84 was based in Boston, but my title was MetroWest Blogger, so do I say my hometown? But then again, I hosted events for the organization in Worcester, so maybe there? Should I just go with a job from USC?

And the freeing aspect of these answers being for my eyes only makes the whole inadvertent reflection even more worthwhile even if I end up selecting a more no-frills straight-fact question/answer combo like "Where were you born?"

My favorite of these password reminders are those that ask about your "favorites". My preferences change a lot, and they change over time. So asking me who my "favorite childhood friend" confounds me because sometimes it is who I am still in contact with today, sometimes I am nostalgic and think back to people I miss and how life took us in different directions. As wishy-washy as it sounds, I really do NOT have one favorite!

So the next time you face that password reminder question, think of the multitude in your answers. Think of the roads not taken, and how lucky you were to travel the road leading you to this moment.

Take that rare breath to just take inventory and appreciate the serendipity of life.

peace, love, sunshine. x
maithreyi :)

wanderlusting through longwood

2014-09-19T10:36:00.002-07:00

So, for all the people wondering "what are you up to? Wait are you still in grad school?" In November last year, I stepped back from my graduate program. Long story short, it just was not the right time. I realized there is a lot I want to figure out about myself and the best career path for me before committing to a graduate program I am not sure about.

One of the biggest challenges was realizing I have multiple passions and instead of wholeheartedly pursuing them all during my senior year of my undergraduate career, I picked only two (education and science journalism. Oh, Annenberg! The road not taken!) and chose to bide my time in graduate school. Instead of trying to work and applying for many different and difficult advocacy positions or trying Americorps, I chose to pretend to know what I wanted. I chose to leave the job search for next year.

Now, I realize there are quite a few tracks that I am not only qualified for but have unique insight towards. And that it is perfectly alright not to have a set linear career path. And there is always time for graduate school! Also, I am REALLY young and still have plenty of time to explore my options before settling into a career. I actually really enjoy the idea of starting at the bottom (cue Drake) and working my way up.

After all, the best biographies are not those that have things handed to them and go entirely smoothly, but those who fall and stumble, but get up stronger and stronger every time. We always find those people most interesting when they have faced challenges and risen to the occasion. Also, I realize if I never do go back to school, I will be joining a legion of Harvard "drop-outs" including Mark Zuckerberg and Bill Gates, and countless others. Not a bad place to be!

It is so funny to me that though I know I will never be a traditional scientist, the impulses to search, to discover still lay dormant within me. They remind me that I still need to feed my mind AND my soul. And that applying science to non-traditionally scientific fields is still something I can pursue.

So in the meantime, I am temping. Which means I do random office work, alphabetizing, etc. while still job searching and applying. Yesterday, my assignment got cancelled, and I was left in Longwood with no particular destination. The Longwood area for me conjures up memories of Summer 2011 when I was still set on a research career in Neuroscience.

When I step off the T there, immediately I remember the smell of my supervisor's homemade Chinese lunches and my visceral dread of checking on the mice. And the happy Starbucks on the corner in front of Children's Hospital and how getting a chocolate croissant at the Au Bon Pain at Children's humanized the research process for me by making me think, "Your research could save a child's life."

It also made me appreciate that opportunity I had. To take an unpaid research internship. To explore a passion and imagine my own future. It made me realize what a gift that those chances were for me and how, even if I am not pursuing them now, I always have that option.

From Longwood, I walked down Huntington and it reminded me of how much my life was run by music and the arts. Passing the New England Conservatory, being reminded of long Friday nights spent in those echo-y chambers playing flute in the Baroque Family Ensemble with my brother singing. These pieces of me I haven't really opened up in a good 8 years. I don't remember the last time I even picked up my flute.

Passing the Huntington Theater, I remember how much going to those shows in middle school made my week or month. How much my heart soars when I see good performance. How much I miss learning dance. Not just Bharatanatyam, but all styles. How for a few years, I defined myself as a performer, never dreaming of really pursuing science. And though I was not necessarily very talented, I pursued the arts with a fervor I seldom feel anymore. The only thing that compares are the times I have sung along to my iPod without a care at open-mics. That thrill of performance. That spark of confidence.

It's funny how just walking along, singing along the way, sharing secret smiles with those who walk my way can make my heart feel alive again. And how sharing my day makes me feel as though I'm not going it alone.

To everyone in their early 20's,
we're all in this together.

peace, love, sunshine. x
maithreyi

hyderabadi healing

2014-05-10T14:03:00.002-07:00

You know that first-day-clean-slate-feeling every new school year as a kid? That feeling that no matter what is going to happen, you will have your friends, you will have lunch to look forward to, and new teachers and new adventures to be had during recess. The familiar routine, revived and renewed.

I feel that when I see this empty page on my screen. Waiting for my thoughts. Waiting for my meandering views on whatever comes my way. I can't really explain the calm that envelopes me as I first dip my fingers in, checking the temperature of the water before diving deep. Deep into the terrifying abyss that sometimes is my mind. It feels so good to want to write again.

These past few months, I had been feeling the absence of sense. That apathy is more crippling than anything. Instead of every sensory feeling translated into swarths of words, like birds that yearn for release, they beat against me like a rock-- I was unwavering, unrelenting. Paralyzed. Suddenly, I felt passive rather than active.

Getting physically away, I feel like I am coming up for air. I have been awoken. I have willingly put myself in a difficult, trying situation in my supposed homeland, but I am not at home. I am here to work. I am in a land where I do not speak the language, and though I look outwardly like I may belong, inside I feel like a fish out of water.

Fish out of water try just to survive, not thrive. But they also feel everything. Notice everyone. Feel the chaos as it both hovers and chaotically dances all around. I never thought I would work in India, but life takes you on its own journey. I am living as simply as I ever have in recent memory. I am left alone to my thoughts more than I anticipated, but it is refreshing. Like I am relearning how to breathe. Life does not let you walk away from the hardest battles you will fight, and those will, most times, undoubtedly, be against yourself.

People write off those who are "finding themselves", but losing yourself is all too easy in this world. Losing yourself to circumstances beyond control, to fear, to unlivable expectations. When that absence of feeling is gone, that flood of emotions, sometimes a trickle, sometimes a babbling brook, sometimes a full on tidal wave-- there is no other explanation than being "found". That something which was missing is not anymore, and you are whole once more. So while I do not think Hyderabad has made me whole yet, I think I am getting there.

Today, I ...
smelled: the smell of smoke alongside the streets, from smog, from the burning ashes of garbage, from the workers taking a break in the afternoon heat
saw: "The Amazing Spiderman 2". But also saw three guys having a bromance over mcdonalds sundaes!
tasted: McAloo Tikki burger. Mmmmm!
heard: the hullaballoo that is Hyderabad traffic
felt: inspired. Inspired to think beyond these few months, and imagine what the future has in store for me.

hi, my name is maithreyi shankar, and i'm a...

2013-12-01T18:33:00.000-08:00

In so many ways, I have reached an impasse in my life. It is an easy thing to be frank or honest with your friends, even easier to tear up a family member because they can take what you have dealt them all these years in fits and identity crises, but it is an entirely different challenge to be true, just, fair, open, trusting, and HONEST with your own self.

When Aesop and the Bible and Hammurabi said those things about the Golden Rule, and "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you", they did not factor into account that oftentimes we treat others with much more kindness and generosity than we ever treat ourselves.

I know that in every hard and stressful situation, I put my blinders on not unlike the horses in Montreal. I can only go charging full speed ahead, eating from my trough and occasionally taking a break to take inventory of my hardware and my bodily functions. It becomes hard to not only see the light and smell the roses, but I am so consumed by the apparent barren landscape and the loneliness, I assume I have failed and I have no support.

In this, I am woefully mistaken. But I am not alone in doing this. I know that in art and in life, every person becomes their own worst enemy. The comments our first and brightest well-wishers--our parents-- give us are sometimes the best and worst fuel for this self-consuming fire. I know that my parents love me, and they are probably even reading this right now: Hi, Amma! Hi Appa! But for the longest time, my brain couldn't reconcile its original decision-making with what it thought was best considering the inputs of my dear ol' mum and pop. Thanks to loads of soul-searching with a healthy 4-year dose of neuroscience, I have finally cracked that code, and realized my own selfish need to find my own voice. As corny and as "teenage-girl-empowerment -movie" as it may be ("Raise My Voice" and even "Break ke Baad"...kinda.), it is a cliche because it is undeniable fact.

So many of my desi peers, and even my general Asian peers, without even realizing it, have put their natural urges and talents to rest before they even sought to know their true potential. Not because their parents ever expressed a negative thought but because of the undue fear of what their parents might say if they ever came to know. It is not even the true fear that curbs these dreamers, but the unknown reaction.

We are practically programmed to know what our parents like, and because we like our parents back, the lot of us end up being parent pleasers with our careers--coming up with great pre-med hoaxes like "global medicine" and "health and humanity" to "theater...with a minor in computer science". Our need for their continued approval, both monetary and laudatory, is almost pathological with how much that need compounds with unnecessary parental pressures and negative self talk.

I don’t know about you, but my mom is the voice in my head whenever I think of taking risks professionally. She was the voice in my head that said, “Kutti, why would you publish this saying bad things about your family! Why don’t you love me?!” She is the one that would nag incessantly and lovingly about being a doctor and how that was her dream as a child, especially when she reflect so on growing up with her favorite uncle and her grandfather who were both physicians.

Being the eldest granddaughter of six, four of whom are my younger “cousin-sisters”, I was the hesitant standard-bearer. Ever ready, even over the summers we spent in India, if my one-year-my-junior cousin had learned anything I hadn’t, I was unyielding in my quest to meet the mark. When I was seven, my cousin had already learned cursive as it is standard in India to have joined-up writing. I was distraught, to say the least, and demanded my father for workbooks at once, please, so I could rectify these undue gaps in my knowledge.

I came back to school stateside quite pleased with myself, though my cursive writing was atrocious. I still held the lead. Over time, though we did not observe ranks like the Indian system, I kept my grades up and achieved the requisite accolades from the extended family. My immediate family always pushed me in the direction of my dreams, never batting an eye when I signed up for the school musical, or guitar lessons, or wanted to do poetry workshops in the middle of the summer.

When it came time to pick a major for college, I had all but dotted the i’s and crossed the t’s on neuroscience, for it was my saving grace, my panacea, if you will. With Neuroscience, I was looking to kill all the birds with one stone. I was going to solve my familial woes, all neurological disorders everywhere, earn my Nobel, and simultaneously be really happy learning bits and pieces from every field imaginable! What could go wrong?

I had my stops and starts with my field of study, but when all was said and done, it allowed me the room I needed to learn and grow and come to terms with my family and my life. I learned to be a scientist through the explorations of how my thoughts came to pen. And I learned to be a better writer through my trials of penning those imaginings into words that spoke clearly. My neuroscience journey started at the age of twelve, and while it will never truly end, it came to its apex at the age of twenty-one. I am so grateful to have the privilege of calling myself a true neuroscientist now, amidst my mentors and my most admired heroes.

But to be honest, the one identity that I think I always deny myself of owning fully is that of a writer. To call thyself a writer comes with so much ridicule. We are all writers. We are all thinkers. What makes thou so special? Are you published? They ask. Oh, I write, too. But no one reads it. How many followers do you have? I reply, I write to exist. I write to feel and to process. I write because my mind grows restless with all the words, overflowing, like a babbling brook that turns into a waterfall that flows into a channel by the shore of an island, in the midst of an ugly, windy storm. I write because if I don’t, these words become caustic. They explode from within like a volcanic blast, lava oozing, and leaving all but destruction in its wake. I write because when I write, the world is no longer sideways and backwards, and seems to right itself again. I write because when I write, just the rhythm of the keys, creating my brain’s overdriven thoughts to pixels on a screen, creates this peaceful lull in my heart. I’m calm. Because I write.

So there. I have “come out of the closet”, so to speak.

I am a woman.
I am twenty-one.
I am heterosexual.
I am an ally to all.
I am South Asian.
I am a citizen of these United States of America.

And I am a writer.

xoxo,

maithreyi

etymological anomalies i drop constantly.

2013-11-20T22:37:00.000-08:00

Oftentimes, by virtue of being an internet-junkie, I pick up sayings and isms and things without really realizing where they originated. My brain is like Nicholas Allen's from Andrew Clements' brilliant book Frindle, I make up neologisms because they are fun, and use them often because I love and value cultural soupage of verbage. (See? Can't help it!)

So here are a few of my favorite more recent etymological anomalies that I tend to drop every other word. #SariNOTsorry ;)

#LOWKEY
I say this a lot. It's intended usage, according to urbandictionary, is to indicate that something is meant to be kept quiet or secret, or on the down-low.

Whate'er, I use it as a like or um or when I'm tryna talk quieter, but fail miserably.

#swaggher (& by extension, #swoopswoop)

this has a very clear origin story. I re-watched the video above with new friends in chicago, and realized that the term "swaggher" and "swoopswoop" had the potential to reverberate and resonate with many in my generation. (GENERASHUN!) so i just started using them.
an oft-repeated, related phrase is "CUE THE SWAG SONG!"

Thank you, JusReign for providing me with endless wisdom and so much cultural pwnage.
#swoopswoop

#norcal
I had not realized how this is NOT a thing that all inhabitors of northern california call nor cal. By the third week of school at USC, using this term was already ingrained. Too many of my peers could trace their immediate ancestry back to this magical land far, far (okay, not that far) away, that I knew its name better than my own. (I'm from the East Coast... I'm from Boston... I'm from Burlington, MA... I'm from... gah, how specific do you want me to be again?!)

#SC
The nickname of the greatest university to ever grace this planet with its presence. aka The University of Southern California. aka USC. aka 'SC. SouthernCal is NOT what we are also known as. thank you.

#humblebrag
Think I just saw this the once on twitter, but the image it evoked left a lasting impact.
I love the idea that one can brag humbly. It makes self-appreciation seem more welcome and to share your achievements with others simpler and less onerous.

Another related concept that I created is the #humblebragswag during which one with one's peers goes around stating a humble brag. They scale from HUMBLEST to BRAGGIEST. The humblest brag wins. (aka #besticebreakerEVARRR)

#winning: usually said out: "hashtag-WINNING!"
this one is a true cultural phenom from a few years ago, but my father's undying love of charlie sheen in "two and a half men" and my undying love of making fun of charlie sheen from "two and a half men" have resulted in my overuse of this term. I love using it ironically, in jest, and in earnest. It's silly, and oftentimes with the right company evokes just the right vibe of humor that I love to infuse in all my interactions with humankind.
:)

lowkey, this was one of the most enjoyable posts I have written in a long, long time.

xoxo,
maithreyi ;)

NANO words: ...somewhere around 4000?
let's not talk about it ;)

PLANETRIPS: VIII

CONFERENCES: III

i read, therefore i am.

2013-10-27T14:24:00.002-07:00

This is Time’s 100 Best Books of All Time.
italics = to be read
read and enjoyed
The Adventures of Augie March
All the King’s Men
American Pastoral
An American Tragedy
Animal Farm
Appointment in Samarra
Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret
The Assistant
At Swim-Two-Birds
Atonement
Beloved
The Berlin Stories
The Big Sleep
The Blind Assassin
Blood Meridian
Brideshead Revisited
The Bridge of San Luis Rey
Call It Sleep
Catch-22
The Catcher in the Rye
A Clockwork Orange
The Confessions of Nat Turner
The Corrections
The Crying of Lot 49
A Dance to the Music of Time
The Day of the Locust
Death Comes for the Archbishop
A Death in the Family
The Death of the Heart
Deliverance
Dog Soldiers
Falconer
The French Lieutenant’s Woman
The Golden Notebook
Go Tell it on the Mountain
Gone with the Wind
The Grapes of Wrath
Gravity’s Rainbow
The Great Gatsby
A Handful of Dust
The Heart is a Lonely Hunter
The Heart of the Matter
Herzog
Housekeeping
A House for Mr. Biswas
I, Claudius
Infinite Jest
Invisible Man
Light in August
The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe
Lolita
Lord of the Flies
The Lord of the Rings
The Moviegoer
Loving
Lucky Jim
The Man Who Loved Children
Midnight’s Children
Money
Mrs. Dalloway
Naked Lunch
Native Son
Neuromancer
Never Let Me Go
1984
On the Road
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
The Painted Bird
Pale Fire
A Passage to India
Play It As It Lays
Portnoy’s Complaint
Possession
The Power and the Glory
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
Rabbit, Run
Ragtime
The Recognitions
Red Harvest
Revolutionary Road
The Sheltering Sky
Slaughterhouse Five
Snow Crash
The Sot-Weed Factor
The Sound and the Fury
The Sportswriter
The Spy Who Came in From the Cold
The Sun Also Rises
Their Eyes Were Watching God
Things Fall Apart
To Kill a Mockingbird
To the Lighthouse
Tropic of Cancer
Ubik
Under the Net
Under the Volcano
Watchmen
White Noise
White Teeth
Wide Sargasso Sea

sweater weather

2013-09-29T14:39:00.002-07:00

i love notebooks. too much. i love how they somehow whisper you can do better tomorrow. its a fresh new page. i love how you can rack em up to either tell a chronological story or an illogical one. the simultaneously represent all the tenses: have been, will be, am currently.

i love straddling that line--telling stories that are not quite one way. i love melding my unique experiences and stories, marrying them with what could have been. where my expectations far surpassed my realities or where living in the moment far superseded anything in my wildest imaginings.

notebooks live in that moment before that moment. you buy them when you know you're going somewhere, starting something, making big plans. they encompass that crisp apple crunch on a fall day; that satisfying slurp of a milkshake while the sun bakes the back of your neck, sickly sweet, laughing next to the one of your dreams. they are the fulcrum of the balance between a spoon of maple walnut and that spicy chaider, a mixing of two worlds in a cup of serene spice and warmth. that feeeling of... possibility, and change, and being okay with being green one day, and slowly peeling layers to become a beautiful burgundy beneath all these facades we all live within.

full circle in 1 zodiac cycle.

2013-09-11T16:12:00.000-07:00

so it's september 11th.

a day that now is recognized in history books. a date that is older than all elementary school children.

a date filled with dread for those capable of remembering, and a date forever filled with guarded urgency, felt alongside utter patriotism and gratitude for humanity.

i remember reflecting on 9/11, as it is now called, and thinking that no other date in human history is filled with so many different projected emotions.

for south asians, it is the day where we took the place of our japanese brethren and had finally experienced that rite of passage that is true blue collar hatred and racism. the problematic nature of classist society--the lack of education-- causing our families to be targeted in any and every capacity. temples and gatherings were secretly or openly watched. students couldn't engage in cultural discussions for fear of being thought of as extremists.

and to this day, a gathering of brown students is often seen as having a radical islamist leaning even if every member is peaceful. maybe especially so, for we are most dangerous as a quiet possibility of utter chaos than chaos itself.

of all the places i could end up on this twelfth anniversary, i was at my old elementary school. the elementary school where i heard the shot heard 'round the world, as it were. the space where i felt the impact of those words. knew more than my classmates at which buildings had fallen.

my family had a nice picnic on the observatory deck only two years prior. i remember the giant towers like i remembered the irreverence i had for new york streets and the boredom i had seeing skyscraper after skycraper--to a seven year old, they all are just slabs of gray metal. but these were special. these had flags from all around. my grandparents clicked a picture with the one from india.

and those bulidings were gone. my shock caused my brain to fry on overdrive. when i got home on the early buses that were shuttled expediently from 10am onward, i was bursting with questions for my father whose gaze did not waver from the aging tv set in our front hall. "WHY did it happen, appa?!" I remember asking, pleading. And he, not more or less knowledgable than me in that moment, had to stay calm and gave me some calming answer.

that year, i read the conflicting reports. the turbaned peace-keeping sikhs being assaulted on trains, whilst everyone and their brother bought flags. I myself sold some flag pins for my school because i wanted to do my civic duty. I was so lost in my role as an immigrant. I felt i had to prove my own belonging. we got our hard-won green cards that year. I remember that moment when i read "permenant resident". I got chills. I was finally belonging in this country that had adopted me with open arms at the age of 5. the country which had seasons, and apple-picking, and children frolicking in parks year-round. I was ecstatic. I read the news daily. I never stopped reading about the situations in iraq and afghanistan. I read time magazine for kids and when that didn't suffice, i braved reading the real newsweek and time that my father had ordered.

so to be brought back seredipitously to where i found out about all this and went on my cultural journey? it was something i didn't appreciate until my mother brought to my attention. I was shocked. Life has a funny way of bringing you back to those defining moments. for me, 9/11 ended up being one of those act or regret moments. i'm glad i acted, even at the age of 9.

xoxo,
maithreyi

maithreyi 'ray' shankar

2013-09-03T15:59:00.002-07:00

maithreyi 'ray' shankar:

21.
studying human development and psychology @ Harvard
USC Trojan '13

striving to become a hurricane of eloquence & social change.

but how did i get here?

i was born to a simple tech/tamil brahmin family in mumbai, maharashtra. INDIA.

the hospital was the same one used for mine, my brother's, my cousins' births except for one glaring exception. that hospital represents our lives--journeys. facing a train that always was ephemeral. a fashion store on one side. life buzzing. ghatkopar.

my birth was linked to my aunt's engagement party. the night before i came to the world, my aunt and uncle became my aunt and uncle. that idea was born. the family was born. just as the cars left town, my mom had to turn around. i was en route, and eager!

this theme of waiting for the right moment to EXPLODE onto the stage is something so natural to me, i cannot explain. i do it again and again to the point where most do not realize i was waiting or hibernating at all. it is sheer instinct. like the instinctual love i have for the texture of wax crayons on rough paper. like the scent of fall memorizing and intoxicating me.

tbc sooon! stay tuned!
xoxo,
Ray :)

Whatever Tomorrow Brings...

2013-08-25T20:06:00.000-07:00

from my instagram, my first day working at widener library :)

So I am here again. The day before the first day of school. For me, this day is a lot more significant and heavy and loaded than the actual first day because of this thing called anticipation. I keep putting ideas in my head about how things are going to be. I keep envisioning scenarios, thinking through situations, always putting myself at the bottom so I know how far I need to climb.

It's nice to know that in a lot of ways, the climb is over. I have "made it". I have been given the opportunity, the privilege to study at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. But in a lot of ways, I'm still climbing. I have reached the end of one goal, just to find myself making 10 others.

Goals which I may or may not ever reach. Goals that need to be reinvented to fit my life, not the other way around. I have finally learned that planning your life to fit a goal is not what a goal is meant for-- goals are supposed to motivate and inspire, not create a fear of not measuring up or a fear of not achieving.

I know that I am where I need to be. I am with my people, in a city I love and will get to know better, near the family and friends who had nurtured me and helped me grow but not forgetting that the past four years helped build me and root me in myself. I am not the girl I was four years ago, pining for MIT, planning on being a major research scientist. And while that girl lives on in me, she has changed. Four years ago, I think a grade made or broke me, and I built my perceptions of others on what I perceived to be intelligence. Now, I can honestly say I live more for the experiences and I live on and for empathy. I feel more than I think, and I can more easily relate to other people's thoughts and emotions. It is strange to think that my persona was so mutable at seventeen, but I am happier now.

Going into tomorrow, I want to just absorb everything and be grateful for all that got me there. I want to make friends, I want to get close to people, I want to be that person who is just fun to be around, but also honest and passionate and kind. It's hard to live out your ideals, but I feel like the first day of school is the best place to try your best because for all everyone else knows, this angelic vision is you. In your faux-self, your true self lives--that inner self with its wants and desires. No wonder the Mirror of Erised can see what your heart wants, our thoughts play out like a symphony through our eyes and actions.

Not to get totally philosophical or anything. I am excited to learn about what lies ahead tomorrow. I am excited for free food, new friends, laughter, and feeling a sense of belonging. I hope that Harvard or at least HGSE has a sense of pride and loyalty. A sense of Harvard family, perhaps? I mean nothing will compare to the Trojan Family, but it would be nice to know that Crimsonites/Harvardians/what-is-the-word-for-Harvard-students? have that sense of belonging. It is something so natural to me now that my friends are faithful, scholarly, ambitious, skillful, and courageous that I didn't realize how honorable and rare those qualities are. It'd be nice to know that Harvard/HGSE have a set of core values and principles as well. (At least it would make me feel like there's more to being a Harvard student than just being smart because that is quite intimidating.)

Anyway, I don't know if this was coherent, but i will post it anyway.
Good night, sleep tight, and see you soon, alright.

xoxo,
maithreyi

Diwali Dreamin'

2012-11-14T01:11:00.001-08:00

An ode to home, real November, and the friends who don't need to know everything to know what I want and need:

I miss it. I miss being more than these polite souls, who say hello in public, and are like sisters in shadows.

I miss being in the cold air, crisp, with my voice puffing out laughs with the last of my breath in the freezing winter's night, running like our youth, our time together, out like a match.
I miss the house I had lived in for fifteen "carefree" years, unaware of its fleeting glory, it's ineffable beauty of simplicity.
I want nothing more than one more night on your moth-eaten, lumpy, comfy old sofa. With old movies and new, echoes of our childhood and our future playing alongside the soundtracks.
I need one more silly spontaneous dessert date, if only to reaffirm that you will never waver, and will always be there. Even if you change your clothes, or your style, you'll be my homes.
I wish for one day more: to make a change. To take a chance. To show the ghosts of my past that fear only holds you back.
I miss those sunny days, early in the season, full of possibility. Sweaty with determination: this summer would be one to remember.
I long for one last jaunt in the city: new friends and old. The city that I have simultaneously always known yet still discover anew every year.
I demand clarity: this quality that my life here lacks. My future is as foggy as the bay, that I am not entirely sure I want to adopt.
I require a roof, some food, some purpose. Actually, just the purpose. I can be hungry and homeless so long as I am fulfilled! But can I? The constant doubts of the lengths I will go astonish even me.
No, I require stability. Independence. And a little side order of purpose. Happy?

Sigh. Happy Diwali! Though this post was all grumpsicles, I am actually quite happy about the holiday. Seeing my family in the Bay (& I mean, pretty much the WHOLE family) totally will tide me over until Christmas, but that doesn't stop me missing my homegirls & New England.

Adieu! -Maithreyi

NaNoWriMo: 1700? Ideas, not words :/

Late night Dominos: iii

The Early November

2012-11-08T22:50:00.000-08:00

Some of my updates on life, thoughts about the election, and all the neverending connections I keep making that exhaust, exhilarate, and motivate me:

So, I haven't blogged since 9/11, not because of a shortage of topics to blog about, but more because I was ill-equipped to deal with my life, and was thrust into multiple situations and confrontations and leadership scenarios that I had hardly anticipated. Within the months of September and October, I reframed and redefined my priorities in life as well as for this year, and my current involvement reflects those shifts.

Here's a quick list of the things I have done in September & October:

recruited 8 new dancers for USC Drishti
practiced every week until near the end of October for different performances
performed at APASA Nightmarket
done henna design work for 7 people
worked faithfully for a social venture that I am really excited to be a part of
networked with every guest lecturer in my NASA/Mars Exploration class
given a guest-lecture as part of a South Asian American High School Youth Leadership Seminar
volunteered at the South Asian Network 22nd Gala
phonebanked for Prop 30 in California
voted in the presidential election (in Massachusetts via absentee ballot)
canvassed in Artesia for Project DesiVote!
helped run API Undocumented Scholarship Fundraiser: Power and Love
supported my friends in their endeavors
had fun with my DC Crew in Los Angeles on multiple occasions
made multiple new friends in many new friend circles; gotten ten times closer with some people I am blessed to have in my life
gotten multiple professional and personal critiques that I am taking in stride; life is about improvement and moving forward, not looking back.
was an ironic hipster for Halloween
volunteered at Weemes Elementary for seven consecutive weeks to read with Jasmin
went to multiple graduate school, fellowship, and job information sessions
talked to multiple advisors and mentors and people I look up to regarding my career path: consensus? I'm gonna be okay.

So yeah, it's been a busy few months, and that's not even ALL of it. Just the things I can remember!

All throughout these months though, I just keep on feeling blessed. I feel like I am pushing myself to my limits mentally and physically, but at the end of the day, I matter to my community. I feel like that feeling is new in some ways: I am not so sure I would have felt that integral last year. And in some ways, I still feel insignificant, and like the whole world would be better off without me. But I am learning to accept that I cannot matter to everyone, and that the people who matter to me should be the only ones I truly care about--but I also need to still make that push for community, and being a voice for the voiceless. It's a tough balance.

October was really hard on me: academically, personally, professionally. In some ways, I feel like November hit the reset button for me. In the wise words of All Time Low, maybe it's not my weekend, but this is definitely going to be my year. I feel like hitting everything with a big heavy slab of positivity is something I need to be mindful of.

Through meeting politically radical and leftist people, instead of the typical "screw the world" attitude, I instead have this Hero Complex. I have this need to fix things that cannot be quenched. Oh this system is in trouble? I'LL FIX IT. Oh, the nation is in shambles? I have your policy plan right here! I know I have this uncontainable energy, but I desperately need something to funnel it into, whether that be science education reform or special education reform or just overall education policy shifts. I need to focus in on SOMETHING or else, I am very much in danger of not achieving much of anything.

But then, when I start to narrow my scope in life, I have this moment where I realize that I am twenty-years-old. Anyone I have met or admired was still in school at the age of 20. Or doing stupid things at the age of 20. Or still growing up, or figuring out their wants, needs, priorities at the age of 20. I have an edge on them in that I am done with my academic requirements, as such, but just because I will have graduated does not mean that I will be magically transformed into a self-realized 22-year-old. I am twenty, like it or not-- and I need to grow up on my own terms.

So I am finally becoming open-minded about this whole job thing. I realize that the skills I need come from multiple disciplines, and I could very well work in any sector, if I wished. I love media: realizing that now, I feel so dismayed I didn't just go for broadcast journalism whilst I had the chance. I love the idea of teaching, and every week I fall more in love with children and especially young kids with bright futures. I feel like the world is at my fingertips, so much possibility, that the pressure of that crushes me. Thank god for my family, friends, and mentors. These people keep me grounded. Let me know that I will not be without aid throughout this, and also make sure that I do not grind myself too hard throughout this stressful ordeal.

And so, while the elections turned out somewhat positively, with all sorts of women taking up power, and the first Hindu-American WOMAN in office anywhere, I offer this video: Barack Obama thanking his organizers. Such a full circle moment for him, and such a moving thing for me to watch. I can identify with 25-year-old idealistic Barack, and I think that being able to not only talk with but also feel connected to one's leader is so important in good governance. I am proud that he is my president regardless of some of his policies because I know that his path there was hard won. Having read "Dreams From My Father" last December, I know his history, and he had been just as lost, if not more lost than me at twenty-years-old. Hearing those narratives humbles me. Obama's right in this video: we are better, but we are better because we can follow his lead. We can follow the lead of other young entrepreneurs, other young movers and shakers. This world is all about solidarity, if you know where to look.

And with that, I bid you adieu! Til the morrow.

xoxo,

Maithreyi

NaNoWriMo: 1600 ish?

late night dominos: iii :(

ELEVEN YEARS: so much inaction.

2012-09-11T09:21:00.001-07:00

I say this yearly now, but my heart can't take it. Every year people honor the victims and heroes of NYC, and while I agree wholeheartedly with that sentiment, it ignores an aching sore in the American hear-- what about Balbir Singh Sodhi, an elderly Sikh-American racially targeted the next days after 9/11? What about the thousands of hate crimes and racially charged incidents all over the United States, United Kingdom, and the world over? What about the communalism and divisiveness that has only grown more pointed since 9/11?

Last year was the 10th anniversary. One decade. The mayor Antonio Villaraigosa came to USC to make a speech. There were initiatives made, promises whispered, the resounding response seemed like it had a reasonable chance for success. One year later, and we have already grown complacent. We have barely integrated our new charges into those established initiatives. We have barely brought up this national tragedy, relegating it to a generic Facebook post or Twitter update. To millions of Sikh, Hindu, and Muslim Americans, it's their well being and life on the line. Do not forget. Do not forget how much you hated them, assumed of them, attributed to "their people". Their people are your people.

It is remarkable that this community feeds of tragedy. Oak Creek, however mutinous and scary, was a call to action and arms. A reminder that we are not yet safe, but the power to be lies with us.

All my love to the victims of all these tragedies, hate crimes, racial slurs, and general ill-feeling.

For more information: http://saalt.org/

Xoxo,

Maithreyi

Update: 11pm PST

So today, I went downtown, phoneless (it had died at my office). I had my iPad so I knew I could text anyone with an apple product or facebook account, so I thought I'd be fine. It's down the street, I said to myself.

So very wrong.

I made my way down the Expo, board in hand for the short ride down Wilshire.

Then MY WORLD GOT ROCKED. In the very worst way.

I was walking and boarding towards an onslaught on police cars and helicopters. Every red flag in my brain said not to keep walking, but I also knew I had no means to call for help. I finally got to my destination, one block from the scene of the gunfire. Shaking, crying, pounding the door down until someone answered. Thankfully, Nate from APALC did! I regrouped and joined the timely discussion hosted by API-Equality LA at their general coalition meeting about ELEVEN years & 9/11.

Here's an article detailing the incident: http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/lanow/2012/09/multiple-shots-fired-at-end-of-police-pursuit-authorities-say.html

If this isnt a wake-up call, I don't know what is.

Xoxo, love to DTLA! I'll be back for you tomorrow!

Maithreyi

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