I’m in this race because I care about Americans. I’m not concerned about the very poor, we have a safety net there, if it needs repair I’ll fix it. I’m not concerned about the very rich, they’re doing just fine. I’m concerned about the very heart of America, the ninety-, ninety-five percent of Americans who right now are struggling… My campaign is focused on middle-income Americans.

His claim and his belief is that you can categorize the middle 90-95% of Americans as middle-income, and that the top 5% are “fine”, and the bottom 5% have their “safety nets.” Here are some facts:

• - The U.S. poverty threshold for a single person under the age of 65 is $11,161.
• - 14.32% of Americans over the age of 25 who earn an income make less than $10,000 a year.
• - According to U.S. Census Bureau data, the nation’s poverty rate rose to 15.1% in 2010.

The poor in America are much more numerous than Mitt thinks, and the safety nets that provide them with basic food and healthcare aid are under so much stress.  The United States has budgeted $881 billion for Medicaid and Unemployment/Welfare spending for 2012, or nearly a quarter of the total budget. In contrast, Sweden is projected to spend 16.8% of their 2012 budget on ALL healthcare-related costs and “financial security for families and children.”

In fact, if we extend past the poor and look at spending on all entitlement, the contrast is even wider. The U.S. is due to spend 57% of its 2012 budget on entitlement programs (which include Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, and Unemployment/Welfare). Sweden, a socialist state according to some, is due to spend just 34.4% of their budget on entitlement programs (which include healthcare, financial security for the elderly and children and families, and student financial aid).

While these entitlement programs in the U.S. are essential programs, their costs are too high. They need to be reformed. Obama gets this. Romney needs to get this, too.

Studies have shown that lower-income families are generally happier than higher-income ones, for a variety of reasons, some of which can be found in those two articles. The mindset, especially of Yalies, of ambition, of working our hardest for that better tomorrow, seems ingrained in our psyche. There’s an endless drive to be better, to be richer, to be more beautiful. But it seems that once we set ourselves upon this path, our standards of happiness rise and rise and we end up never really happy. We’re constantly looking forward, living in the future, never really satisfied with the present.

Many of us are guilty of exactly the things that Ware talked about. It takes great courage to make an unorthodox decision to pursue happiness at the expense of income, to prioritize our personal relationships at the expense of getting ahead, to choose upheaval in the name of greater happiness at the expense of stability. All of those things that might be sacrificed – money and status – are the very things we seem to be wired to want more and more of. But when you pay for it in happiness, is it really worth it?

I also discovered this response to the question “What is most surprising about humanity?,” which is popularly attributed to the the Dalai Lama:

“Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money.
Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health.
And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present;
the result being that he does not live in the present or the future;
he lives as if he is never going to die,
and then dies having never really lived.”

The truth of this terrifies me. In our endless pursuit of wealth and status, how much happiness do we lose? Are we forsaking opportunities of present happiness for supposed future gratification? I think we are. But the scariest part is that this decision just seems so difficult. How do you justify the branch of happiness of happiness when it seems like such a nebulous concept, especially when the alternative is concretely better.

I know that I, along with the rest of the Class of 2012, will be faced with decisions like this many times in the next few years. I can only hope that we make the decisions that make us happy.

And so, reading the article about Mitt Romney, I find myself impressed by his history as a businessman and, of course, as a consultant. He seems like the kind of leader our government needs: an objective thinker with a huge appetite for data. While I can’t agree with some of the social policy areas that he is forced to endorsed due to his party affiliation, I really do like his way of thinking and executing, which may be more important with the economy as the focus of the 2012 election. While I haven’t done enough research into his positions on key issues (besides healthcare), his character (apparently he’s a flip-flopper), or his ability to be the leader of the free world (which is becoming more and more an antiquated exaggeration), what I’ve seen so far has been impressive. While I still Obama as a man, I, like many others, have become frustrated by the inaction of the government as a whole over the last few years. I’d certainly like to see Romney win the Republican nomination to see how he stacks up against the charisma of Obama. At the very least, he isn’t as ideologically repugnant to me as the other Republican candidates.

With the power of hindsight, I can confirm that my initial, tentative ruminations about high school were a bit exaggerated. I literally grew up, but not as much as I thought. Three years ago, I thought I’d come pretty close to the person I would be in adulthood. High school certainly brought me out of the awkward shell of middle school and treated me to experiences of responsibility, leadership, pride, love, loss. But what I realize now is that the experiences only provided the framework for future experiences. At 18, I still had no idea who I wanted to be, what I liked to do, and exactly who I was.

At 18, I wanted to be a doctor. Heck, since I’d been a little kid, I wanted to be a doctor. I thought that that was the life I wanted, to help people feel better and to make a difference in the lives of as many people as possible. And so I embarked upon that path quite seriously, choosing courses that were only really useful for pre-med students. But I realized pretty quickly that my motivations in choosing this path were less grounded in fact and more in some deeply-held fancy. By spring semester of freshman year, I still had not committed to any of the pre-med obligations that required more effort. I didn’t want to do research, and I didn’t really want to do any other extracurricular involving science. I justified this by doing something I actually liked, teaching, which I chose as my summer experience after freshman year.

I thought that my love for teaching was a sign that I was meant to be a doctor. Since high school, I’d been tutoring and teaching as a side-hobby. Even to this day, helping others by teaching is something I enjoy. It was natural to think that that love was perfectly transferable to a career in medicine. But the summer after my freshman year, which I spent teaching several SAT classes, I realized that there was one major practical similarity between teaching and medicine that I couldn’t stand – I realized that I didn’t like repetitive tasks. One week that summer, I taught the same math class about geometry three times in a row, and it was dreadful. I taught a total of five classes that summer, all with identical curriculum, and that experience almost robbed me of all my love for teaching. While I liked helping others, I definitely did not enjoy doing so in a overly structured, repetitive way.

And so I returned to Yale in the fall with serious doubts about my chosen career path, but it wasn’t until a weekend at home that I finally decided to change course. That October, I went along with my parents and my brother to his pediatrician, who spoke to me briefly about her career. She told me two things: one, that, as a Yalie, I had the opportunity to truly pursue as many paths as I wanted and two, that her career choice included a long and difficult journey, and that if I wasn’t absolutely sure I wanted to be a doctor, I’d only be miserable several years down the line. Her second point resonated with me, because I really wasn’t sure at that time. Her reminder of the seven years of further schooling and training that awaited me filled me with dread. I knew I would be unhappy if I forced myself through that. Shortly thereafter, I dropped the medical career from my mind.

This decision coincided with another major event, as I entered 2010 as president of the Chinese American Students Association. I’d mentioned three years ago that I probably wouldn’t find another activity or another group that meant as much to me as marching band did. CASA comes pretty close to that status. But more importantly, my year as president showed me the first glimpses of what kind of work I would really enjoy.

That year, I could never stop thinking about CASA. I was always planning what we could do next, worrying about the things that could go wrong, thinking about what we could do better. I obsessed over every detail and managed the board and our events with fervor. Whenever we had events, I had to know where everything was, what everyone was doing, how everything looked. It was the same fervor that I had when I was drum major back in high school.

But this time, the experience was more real. Instead of motivating and leading a group of high school performers, I was planning and executing events, building a team out of ten busy Yalies. In the process, I discovered that I loved all of it. The planning, the details, the teamwork – I was engaged in a way I’d never before been engaged. By the end of my term, I knew what I would want to do with my life. I discovered that I loved building things; not physical things, but ideas, projects, events that resolve problems. I loved working together with a group of people to build things.

More than anything else during my time at Yale, CASA gave me a sense of ownership. I was legitimately and justifiably proud of the nine other board members. From them I learned patience and compromise, I learned about trust, I learned the limits of my abilities and how to find the best in others. Most of all, I had an experience that I could cherish and remember forever. I truly hope that I was as good a leader as my board members deserved. Many of them went beyond my expectations to deliver a level of commitment and ability that made our year a success.

By the time I turned 20, I was already much different than I was at 18. I don’t think I changed much outwardly, but inside, I felt extremely different. I was more confident. I was more aware of my own abilities and limitations. I better understood my relationships with others. I built friendships that were the most solid I’ve ever had. At 20, I was somewhat prepared to tackle the major life decisions and problems that faced me in the coming year. Later, when I arrived back at Yale for senior year ready to decide how the next chapter of my life would begin, I would begin the process of truly understanding myself.

I spent that summer in Chicago, working on a business strategy project at Sears. From that summer, I can identify a few experiences that would define not just who I am today, but the trajectory my life will take from today onward. The first was a practical one: Sears’ headquarters were about an hour-and-a-half to two-hour commute, one-way, from where I lived in the city. Almost every day, I would take a bus for about ten minutes, transfer to a subway for about 45 minutes, then transfer to a shuttle for another 45 minutes. I had always been a very impatient person, but I learned to managed this two-hour commute everyday without much complaint. I occupied myself with a book, or a magazine, or, often, my own thoughts.

Professionally, I solidified my occupational decision. Continuing from my experiences with CASA, I was given the opportunity to work on a project in a way I really enjoyed. I researched and analyzed data, built and debated strategies, and ultimately delivered a solution to executives. By the end of the summer, I knew what I wanted to do after Yale: business strategy. Again, I re-discovered my love of the process of building ideas, from the research and planning to the execution and delivery. And so when I returned to Yale to decide that next chapter, I focused on opportunities that would allow me to do what I enjoyed.

But the most important thing I learned this fall was just how much I needed my family. For three years at Yale, I’d grown more distant from them. Like many of my peers, I was eager to strike it out on my own. I was eager to do it all myself: succeed or fail, love or loss, simple or complex, I wanted to do it independently. As a consequence, I became quite irresponsible about checking in with my family, with keeping them up-to-date with the comings and goings of my life. I was so consumed with my own present and future that I sacrificed the bastions of my past. I began to take them for granted.

It all began when my mom reported to me something Andrew, my 8-year-old brother, had said to her. At the time, I had an offer to return to Sears full-time post-graduation, so I could very well have returned to Chicago in 2012. Knowing this, my brother asked my mom “Does this mean Tim won’t visit us as much?” When my mom told me what Andrew had said, I felt a wave of emotion hit me. Up until then, I’d told everybody that I didn’t care where I was, as long as the opportunity was a good one. But at that point, I knew I couldn’t bear to leave my family. I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving my growing brother in New Jersey as I began my life in another timezone. I couldn’t bear the prospect of being that missing brother in Andrew’s life, who practically disappeared when he was 9. I realized that, more than anyone else in this world, I cared most about Andrew. This wasn’t a new thought – I remember making this declaration and realization in the past – but I’d forgotten, after three years of Yale, just how much I loved him.

Naturally, I also thought about my parents. Again, up until this fall, I’d been irresponsible. I rarely called, thinking my monthly trips home was enough to catch up and chat. I would briefly discuss my plans and thoughts with them, but always with the lingering thought that I knew better in the back of my head. But a simple truth quickly became evident: the single greatest factor in shaping who I am today was not marching band, or CASA, or any summer experience; it is my parents. From them I learned caution, introspection, trust, love. I learned how to approach decisions and how to make them. I realized that they were the reason I could be myself as I decided what, and who, I wanted to be. Nobody else in the world knows me better than my parents do. Nobody else in the world will be there for me even if I fail. I realize now that I had taken for granted their unyielding and unconditional support as a safety net, and they don’t deserve that. They deserve to be an active part of my life, to help shape my decisions, to help guide my actions.

As such, I made location a priority as I planned for post-graduation. I needed to be close to home, not because it was more convenient, but because that was where I could be the brother and son that I want to be. But I think the core of my new motivation was still Andrew. I want to watch him grow into a teenager. I want to be as constant a presence in his life as I can be. I want to be a major character when he writes his memories when he eventually turns 18.

In the end, I got my wish, both personally and professionally. I know now that I’ll be working as a consultant in New York City, doing work I will enjoy, while still playing a role in the lives of the only people in this world who will always be there for me.

And so, on this twenty-first November 12th I’ve seen, I stand ready to tackle the next chapter of my life. I didn’t talk a lot about my personal relationships here, but those thoughts are best left in private. To the friends who I hold closest to my heart: you know who they are, and I know you’ll all stay there as we move onward with our lives. To the mentors I’ve been so fortunate to gain: your advice, leadership, and good example have been invaluable. To all of you: the past three years have been a remarkable journey, and I’m excited for what the rest of my Yale experience will bring.

1. Be true to yourself. Do what makes you happy, not what others say you should do.
2. Be genuine, be reliable. The relationships you form at Yale can potentially last a lifetime, so make sure they’re built the right way.
3. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. The fear of making a mistake takes away opportunities. Instead, make the mistakes and look back and learn from them.
4. Trust your intuition. Don’t stress about the details or over-think the possibilities. Life has its way of working out.
5. Learn how to say “no.” You can’t do everything, so choose the things that mean the most to you.
6. Don’t be too attached and insular. You don’t truly discover who you really connect with until later, so meet new people.
7. Ask for help if you need it. The people around you are more willing to help than you think, so don’t feel like you have to do everything by yourself. The opposite it true as well: don’t hesitate to offer help.
8. Get to know professors! They actually want to meet you, and do care about your life.
9. Party hard, but party smart. Fun times aren’t very fun if you can’t remember them.
10. Don’t forget your family and friends back home. You might want to rush forward with your life, but they’re the only ones who will catch you when you fall.

You can read about an extensive criticism of Google+, why companies might fail at international expansion, or even the reason it’s bad to eat right before going to bed. It’s fascinating to read, and remarkable how people are willing to describe, explain, and debate at such a high intellectual level on the Internet. To me, it’s an alternative to the more basic entertainment of reddit, though I haven’t been able to contribute much in terms of answers, mostly due to my lack of deep expertise in any one topic. I definitely recommend it if rage comics or cute kittens isn’t enough for you.

Even though I think there are reasonable historical reasons why chopsticks came to become so popular, I do wonder this every once in a while. Especially when I’m trying to eat peas.

Median household income history

Spurred by the article, I decided to investigate the current state of employment in the U.S. Looking through the data collected by the government and found some remarkable things. First, I went through some statewide median household income numbers from the U.S. Census bureau. As of March 2011, real median household income (HHI) in the U.S. has fallen to levels first reached in 1989, and last seen in 1996. In other words, the median U.S. household was making just as much real income the year before I was born as they are today. That’s incredible.

I also looked at it from a state-by-state perspective, benchmarking each state’s change in median household income over the last four years to the national average of -$3,378. Results here were pretty surprising: the states with the highest rate of income growth were all rural (Vermont, North Dakota, Wyoming, Nebraska, and Utah); the states with the lowest rate were more mixed (Minnesota, Georgia, Hawaii, Alaska, and Ohio). New Jersey was 7th, with median HHI remaining flat. Connecticut was 10th, with median HHI dropping only 1.48%.

Characteristics of the Unemployed

I also found the nature of today’s unemployed population fascinating. The government segments unemployment in a lot of different ways including race, gender, occupation, age. Looking through some of these segmented data, I found some interesting nuggets.

-Male unemployment is about 2 percentage points higher than female unemployment.
-African-American unemployment is about 16%, almost 50% higher than the nationwide unemployment. It’s also more than twice the rate for Asian-Americans (7.5%)
-Americans between age 20 and 24 have a 15.5% unemployment rate.
-The unemployment rate for management, professional, and related occupations is 4.7%.
-The unemployment rate for construction occupations is 20.1%.
-About 53% of the unemployed population are those who permanently lost their jobs.

It appears to me that the 9.6% national unemployment is very much skewed towards transitional or seasonal labor. The highest unemployment rates were in occupations like food preparation, building and grounds cleaning, construction, farming and fishing, factory jobs. These are the blue-collar workers that are already living paycheck-to-paycheck. It’s no surprise that the current protests and negative national mood seems to be emerging from the lower-middle class, while the rest of America watches and keeps their heads low.

It’s interesting, though, that there’s a lot of public anger directed towards major corporations. But based on the data, it appears that a lot of these major corporations, especially in the services, healthcare, and management industries, are at, or close, to natural rates of unemployment.

Occupy Wall Street

So what about those thousands of men and women sitting around on city streets around the world? It turns out they’re somewhat misguided. I looked at household income numbers across percentiles, and found that, surprisingly, the income level for the top 5% of American households has remained largely unchanged since 1992, staying around 21.5% of aggregate income. This flies in the face of Occupy Wall Street’s “We Are the 99%” slogan. Unless the 1% has been taking entirely from the next 4%, it’s clear that the income disparity has NOT changed in the last 20 years. Before 1992 is a different story. In fact, between 1982 and 1992, the share for that top 5% grew from around 16.5% to 21.5%. That era was Reaganomics. So while the top 0.01% has grown tremendously due to tremendous growth in CEO pay, the balance of the top 5% of Americans has remained largely unchanged.

I will be careful to note that I don’t mean to disregard their argument against the broader systemic issues with the world’s financial systems. That is best left for another post.