Trying New Things

As a kid, whenever it came to school projects, I was never hesitant to try new things. From designing propellers in second grade, to making a life-sized cardboard raft in fourth grade, I’ve always enjoyed coming up with out-of-the-box (literally!) ideas. In sixth grade, I remember one project in which we were to spread awareness about an important problem of our choice. Noticing the vast number of students playing Clash of Clans in class, I decided to make a video game, and humorously named it Clash of Cans (it ended up accumulating 600,000+ downloads due in no small part to people misspelling Clash of Clans).

In fact, it wasn’t limited to school projects and apps; trying new things was a lifestyle. While running for student council in seventh grade, I broke the trend of serious campaign videos by creating a parody of “Moves Like Jagger” and got elected. And when I started debate in high school, I quickly realized that my greatest asset was my willingness to try unique arguments within tournaments. Whether it was involving China within Korean & American relations debates, or discussing the effects a Cuban embargo would have on doctors, I was never hesitant to give new contentions a try. Furthermore, at the same time I was doing debate, I also had a burgeoning interest in quantum physics, so–you know how the story goes–I tried something new and got into quantum computing.

Quantum computing was a relatively new field, so there wasn’t an abundance of information online about the field. As a result, one of the valuable lessons I learned through the project was to step out of my comfort zone and ask others for help. I clearly remember the first roadblock I had: each D-Wave quantum computer was worth 15 million dollars and closed to the public. While I considered all possible workarounds, from using classical quantum-simulators to scrapping the project altogether, it was a month later that I realized I missed the most human solution of all:

“Wait a minute. Why don’t I ask them?” I thought to myself.

Hesitantly, the next day I asked. And the day after that they answered. Four months and 90 emails later, I got access.

However, it goes without saying that sometimes, trying new things doesn’t work. After the 2014 World Cup, I decided to play competitive soccer and eventually made it on a De Anza Force team. But by the time ninth grade rolled around, due to the increasing physical tolls, I began to lose my passion for the sport. It’s not the greatest feeling when things don’t work out. But how else do you sharpen your focus towards what you DO want to explore?

In fact, in some ways, I’m a creature of habit. I’ve come to realize that it isn’t just my curious nature, but rather my ideologies & long-practiced habits, that have given me the launching pad necessary to try new things.

Of all my rituals & traditions–from the weekly math problems to the daily bike ride–the most important to me is stargazing. Since middle school, I have made it a habit to regularly gaze at the night sky through either my six-inch Dobsonian telescope or the 16-inch Schmidt-Cassegrain reflector at the local community college observatory. Looking at the raging storms on Jupiter that are three times the size of our planet makes me truly think: how important can tomorrow’s test really be? On a more serious note, gazing at these planets and realizing how we once thought, over 500 years ago, that these planets were discs revolving around our planet leaves me with more questions: how little do we know now? How will we push the frontiers of knowledge in another 500 years?

These questions are the reason I want to be a researcher–simply put, I want to be on the front lines of the unknown and just try new things while I’m at it.