I’m counting down the New Year with cherished friends. Toasting with champagne. Singing and dancing. Laughing. Playing silly childhood games that never get old. Waking up. Time for traditional Japanese breakfast. Crunching on homemade Mochiko chicken. Sipping ozoni soup and chewing mochi balls. Biting into a sour pickled plum soaked in green tea. Five hours later, at another grandmother’s house. Eating shu-mai dumplings soaked in soy sauce. Laughing.

It’s the New Year, and if I know anything, it’s that I’m so lucky to be surrounded by love wherever I go.

Over the past ten years of my life, I have pursued many academic and personal goals. At age nine, the goals were simple: ace my math test, score during my soccer match, perhaps run a mile in under ten minutes. As I matured, my goals became more diverse: get this boy to like me, get straight A’s, be perfect in school and in life. It took me until the eleventh grade to realize that life wasn’t just about the pursuit of individual goals, but about sharing these goals – and the happiness of meeting these goals – with other people. Simply, life is about the connections we make, and the opportunities we have to express and receive love.

Now that I am in college pursuing even larger goals, I often set aside the importance of sharing and receiving love. My daily life is consumed by balancing professional obligations with individual growth, and I place great weight on this delicate balancing act.

On one hand, I am no longer a child, and I must take responsibility for my professional aspirations. Along these lines, I spent many afternoons this fall working at a real estate internship, learning how to sell commercial buildings at the expense of spending time with friends at UCLA. I often prioritize tasks with deadlines, like homework and recruiting events, over the less “required” telephone calls with my family or talks with my roommate. It makes me sad sometimes, but I know that if I want to become financially independent by the time I am thirty, I must sometimes sacrifice fun for professional development. I understand and accept this sacrifice as a part of life.

At the same time, I am not yet ready to become an adult. I see the world with a sense of wonder and optimism, and nothing delights me more than experiencing something new. Everything I dreamed of when I was a child – skydiving, studying abroad, running for political office – is within my reach, and I often find myself yearning to abandon professional responsibilities to go out and explore.

I feel most alive when I forsake reason and simply act. For this reason, I postponed studying for my midterms to walk through Olvera Street during the Dia de los Muertos celebration. I headed to the Los Angeles County Museum of Art rather than review my statistics material. I spent an entire Saturday walking to the Botanical Gardens and refused to wear a jacket, simply to delight in the beauty of the wind on my bare skin. Nothing brings me more happiness than exploring somewhere new, especially if I have a loved one by my side.

But ultimately, all this balancing simply brings me back to my simple childhood message: that nothing is more important than loving and being loved.  

When I was walking by myself to the Botanical Gardens, the wind whipping against my bare arms, I yearned to tell someone – anyone – of my foolishness and how I was bound to get a cold because of it. I wanted to share the moment, to laugh, to point out odd flowers and run through the trails, if only to make what I was experiencing all the more real.

The same goes for professional accomplishment. When the real estate company hired me, I wanted nothing more than to dance in circles with my roommate and to shake hands with members of my fraternity. When I got an A in political science, I wanted to tell my parents all about it. Individual accomplishment is meaningless without loved ones to share the joy.
 
Over the past two years, I have realized that it is the connections I form with other people that brings meaning and happiness to my life. It is with the hope that I will build upon these connections that I write today.

Sometimes, I feel discouraged by being stuck in the precarious balance between work and play. I ask myself why I am not achieving higher grades in school or exploring daily the streets of Los Angeles. In the end, however, I accept my inability to be perfect. Nobody short of Wonder Woman can explore the city every weekend, catch every basketball game, rock a 4.0, manage twelve hours at an internship, and stay sane. I can’t expect myself to do so.

I have come to accept that it is a sign of maturity to embrace life the way it is and yet continue to strive for better. To above all remember that balance is only a piece of the puzzle, that balance is only useful as far as I can love.    

Above all, I want to live my life in love.

Happy New Year, everyone!