Leslie Brian – The Stanford Daily https://stanforddaily.com Breaking news from the Farm since 1892 Thu, 02 Feb 2012 08:26:44 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.4.3 https://stanforddaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/03/cropped-DailyIcon-CardinalRed.png?w=32 Leslie Brian – The Stanford Daily https://stanforddaily.com 32 32 204779320 Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Last but not least… https://stanforddaily.com/2012/02/02/dont-sweat-the-small-stuff-last-but-not-least/ https://stanforddaily.com/2012/02/02/dont-sweat-the-small-stuff-last-but-not-least/#respond Thu, 02 Feb 2012 08:26:44 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1056541 We all remember the “firsts.” Pasted into scrapbooks, framed on the wall, documented in writing, they surround us with memories of the beginning. First word, first step, first day of school, first kiss, first love, first loss. These are the stuff of stories, easily recalled at family reunions and dinner parties.

But how often do we remember the “lasts”?

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Don't Sweat the Small Stuff: Last but not least...We all remember the “firsts.” Pasted into scrapbooks, framed on the wall, documented in writing, they surround us with memories of the beginning. First word, first step, first day of school, first kiss, first love, first loss. These are the stuff of stories, easily recalled at family reunions and dinner parties.

But how often do we remember the “lasts”?

Whether I like it or not, my time for “firsts” at college is coming to a close. Halfway through senior year, the moment I never thought would actually come – graduation – is barreling toward me. Where did all that time go? I remember thinking about high school graduation in a similar way: one of those oh-so-distant events that I knew would have to happen in theory but couldn’t picture in reality. Only this time around, college graduation is that much more of a surreal milestone; it’s practically hitting me between the eyes, and I still can’t fully process the reality.

The thought of my last day of college is a little terrifying. But what really scares me, more than graduation itself, are all the other “lasts” that get lost along the way. At least I can ready myself for my last day as a Stanford undergraduate. But will I really remember the last time I walk through the Quad? Or buy coffee from the Bookstore? Or say “hi” to those same two cashiers at TresEx? Those are the little moments that I won’t realize are happening until they’re over.

Where do all the “lasts” go? They are elusive, hard to pin down or identify. There’s no way to know when the last time we see our parents will be. Or the last time we kiss our boyfriend or girlfriend goodbye. Or the last time we’ll sit down for coffee with a best friend. Or the last time we’ll think of ourselves as children.

Certain “lasts” are out of our control. But there are others we have more of a say in. As hard as it is to know that the end point is approaching, at least we have more opportunities to make each preceding moment count. We can choose to fill our time with more firsts and more meaning. We can take advantage of every moment on hand, so that when the “last” is finally here, we’re content with what came before.

It’s a challenge, to say the least. I’ll be the first one to admit not being particularly adept at it. I mean, let’s be real: once I finish my columnist stint, my sanity will more than likely go down the tubes without these obligatory weekly reminders. As much as I’ve griped over deadlines and column ideas, I’ll actually be sad to let this huge time suck go. Now that I only have one last shot, I can’t believe I was ever at a loss for words. There’s so much I left unsaid.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this last column. Number 13 to be precise. What I wanted it to say, and what I wanted to leave you with. So, in the spirit of “lasts,” please indulge me in a short take-away moment. If you (or I!) get anything out of this column, I hope it’s this:

Life isn’t a constant trajectory. It has its ups and downs. It zigzags. It bobs and weaves and traverses shaky terrain. We can never know for certain where we’ll be 15 years down the road or where we’re ultimately heading. But every moment is a step in a given direction. And as long as you take each step with purpose, chances are that you’ll end up where you want to be. When you live a life of satisfying moments, you’ll end up with a satisfying life.

I feel like this column has been a bit of a downer, but that really wasn’t what I intended. The point was that it’s never too late to turn a year of lasts into a year of more firsts. I don’t have a choice about graduating on June 17. That date is set in stone. But I do have a choice in how to live my life up until that point. There may only be half a year left at Stanford, but what a half a year it will be.

So, until then, wish me luck on the journey! I wish you the same. Let’s see if we can both follow my own advice.

Luckily for you, this isn’t the last time you’ll have to hear from Leslie. You can always email her at labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: The weight https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/26/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-the-weight/ https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/26/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-the-weight/#respond Thu, 26 Jan 2012 08:28:55 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1055608 Once again, history was repeating itself and I had taken on too much. For once in my life, I wasn’t procrastinating (that much) or prioritizing the wrong tasks. No matter how much I accomplished, this monstrous wave of to-dos and assignments and meetings kept looming larger and larger behind me, and it was only a matter of time before its crest broke and swept me out to sea with it.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: The weightAs you’ll recall — by now, my illustrious powers of rhetorical charm have you all fawning over my every word — two weeks ago, I wrote on New Years resolutions. In a slick 800-word essay, I extolled the virtue of taking things in stride, so that one turbocharged week of adrenaline wouldn’t leave you burned out for the rest of the year. “Start slowly, and give yourself time to adjust to new habits,” was the exact wording, I believe.

 

A mere one week later, the title of my Jan. 12 column (anyone?) has come back to haunt me: “The More Things Change, the More Things Stay the Same.” Last Thursday, I found myself up to my ears in hyper-anxiety.

 

Okay, a little dramatic, I admit. But I literally felt like I was drowning.

 

I started to freak out. Quite simply, there wasn’t enough time in the day to do it all. If only my life existed on two separate tracks. My jam-packed schedule of 20 units and two thousand extracurriculars would work out swimmingly if I could just get my social and personal life to exist in some parallel universe. With two 24-hour clocks running side by side, I’d be golden.

 

I knew something had to give. But part of me was still desperately trying to hold onto all my classes and activities and outside interests and do it all.

 

But then I started to think about it more. Why was I doing this to myself? What was I trying to prove? What was the point? Would dropping a class or backing out of a club symbolize that I was a slacker?

 

I was making things harder on myself than they needed to be. But that’s not too unusual. Taking the easier path is not something people at Stanford choose to do. We live at the extremes. If things are comfortable, we must not be pushing hard enough. If there’s free time in our day, we need to fill it with something productive. After all, why take 15 units when you could take 18? It’s the old Puritan work ethic, applauding the virtue in working yourself to the bone and toughing out hardship. The more we can endure, the stronger, better and more moral we are.

 

But is taking on an additional challenge always the right answer? After all, life throws us enough curveballs without our insisting that we bat left-handed (if you get what I’m trying to say). Trust me, life will present its fair share of challenges. When they come, we must struggle valiantly and fight the good fight; but to struggle for the sake of struggling is just, well, pointless.

 

In that way, we are our own worst enemies, seeking out battles that don’t necessarily need to be fought. In love, in life, in school, we sabotage ourselves. (Why do you think we’re attracted to people we seemingly can’t have instead of what’s right in front of us?) It seems that comfortable living is a luxury we can’t afford.

 

I know I write about the same thing every single week (hey, that’s part of my charm, right?), but that’s because living in balance is one of the most difficult things to do. We all need reminding to stay centered, especially when it’s easier and more normal to live in a world of extremes. And we all need reminding, day-to-day and week-to-week. Perhaps no one more so than myself. When I do my weekly variations on the theme of balance, it’s as much to keep myself on track as it is for everyone else.

 

So with that in mind, here’s something to take away for the week: let your life be easy when it can be. Just because you can take something on doesn’t necessarily mean you should. Likewise, just because something is in your power doesn’t mean you have to do it. We deserve to be relaxed enough every day to stop for a five-minute impromptu conversation in the halls or to enjoy dinner with a friend instead of working in the library. That doesn’t make us complacent or “weak;” that’s what makes us happy. That’s something I’m trying to learn — that there can be equal strength and intensity and purpose in declining a challenge as there is in accepting one. At the end of the day, it all comes down to choice and the motivation behind your actions, as I’ve probably said upward of a dozen times.

 

It’s a work in progress. And you can bet I’ll be back next week, updating you on the journey.

 

But don’t worry, dear reader, Leslie always has time for you. Help her procrastinate a little bit more by emailing her at labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Let’s get physical! https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/19/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-let%e2%80%99s-get-physical/ https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/19/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-let%e2%80%99s-get-physical/#respond Thu, 19 Jan 2012 08:27:07 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1054712 Tuning into our bodies opens us up to insight that no degree of rationality could. You can intellectualize all you want, but sometimes, it’s no replacement for something as simple as sitting with your emotions.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Let’s get physical!There’s no denying that we are sensory creatures. I could be 85, and the rich, salty taste of brisket and riced potatoes would still send me right back to evenings spent home alone on the couch while my parents gallivanted off to their grown-up parties; and whenever I hear “Disturbia,” I’m always catapulted back to freshman year pregames in the halls of Cedro.

 

The point is that our brains make associations without our even noticing. Every day, we see and listen and taste and smell and feel a thousand different things. Our web of neurons and synapses, muscles and fibers are constantly working to process an overload of external and internal stimuli and give us feedback. It’s a pretty cool mechanism: when we’re cold, we shiver; when we’re hot, we sweat. Adding an even greater degree of complexity, more often than not, it’s not just a physical response we record, but a mental one too. So that a Thanksgiving meal is more than just a gustatory sensation, it’s also an emotional imprint.

 

This is all to say that our bodies are incredibly powerful instruments. Yet despite their wisdom, we don’t give our bodies enough credit. How many times do we pause and take in our internal physicality and emotions? Our heart is always beating and our lungs are constantly taking in air, but subtle changes in these kinds of everyday actions are huge clues to your physical and mental state. Notice your posture, your breath, your energy level. The tension hiding in your shoulders or your jaw. The rate at which your fingers tap away at the keyboard. Are you fiddling with your hair, bouncing your foot, getting distracted, picking your nails? Pimples? These are all external manifestations of our body’s inner state. It’s trying to tell us something.

 

Where it gets tricky is that we’re rational creatures as well. Without fangs or sharp canines or armor-like skin, humans climbed to the top of the food chain. Stanford, in particular, is a community of academic thinkers, dominated by those who have used sheer mental grit to get ahead. And for us worshippers of reason, how the body communicates information doesn’t always register. We’re frustrated when we can’t provide a ready explanation for our feelings. “Why am I crying?” or “I don’t know why I’m so tired” or “Sorry, I’m so out of it.” When it’s not convenient to feel a certain way, rather than respecting our body, we apologize for it. Reason should guide your response to a feeling, not the other way around. You can’t simply use your head to coax your body to feel differently. It doesn’t work like that. No one can outsmart Mother Nature.

 

Last Friday, I participated in an incredible experience that was all about noticing how the body physically reacts to an emotionally charged situation. We replicated an exercise that had been conducted in South Africa in order to help heal the wounds of apartheid. After breaking up into pairs, we were assigned roles. Person A would say the words, “You hurt me,” and Person B would respond with, “I’m sorry.” That same dialogue would repeat, over and over again, as we varied intonation and body language to make up for the fact that we couldn’t change the words.

 

All of us were shocked by how viscerally and intensely the exercise affected us. Some cried. Everyone wanted the exercise to end. We all needed time to process what had happened. Whether we wanted to or not, we had all superimposed our own psyches onto the words we were saying, provoking physical reactions that hit us out of nowhere.

 

The exercise was both incredibly uncomfortable and incredibly illuminating. No amount of rational thought could explain our reactions. I can’t describe what might have been going through the other 14 students’ heads. We had to go off of our physicality alone to process it.

 

The body is an infinite source of truth, even though its truth may not be “rational” or “logical,” per se. Emotions aren’t like equations. They aren’t clean or straightforward, they’re messy and don’t immediately add up. But that doesn’t make emotional information any less valid. Tuning into our bodies opens us up to insight that no degree of rationality could. You can intellectualize all you want, but sometimes, it’s no replacement for something as simple as sitting with your emotions.

 

As my mom said, sometimes you need a good cry. We all need to heal, both emotionally and physically. When you allow yourself to listen to your body and process your feelings, there’s a much better chance it won’t leave a scar.

 

Leslie would love to hear about your reaction to this column at labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu. Just make sure not to start your email with “You hurt me.”

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: The more things change, the more things stay the same https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/12/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-the-more-things-change-the-more-things-stay-the-same/ https://stanforddaily.com/2012/01/12/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-the-more-things-change-the-more-things-stay-the-same/#respond Thu, 12 Jan 2012 08:28:05 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1054093 In a similar way, the dream of fundamentally revamping your life overnight just doesn’t translate into reality. You can dream about your dozen resolutions ’til the cows come home, but if you stop to think about it for a split second, the realization hits that there just isn’t enough time in a single day to do it all, let alone do it all well.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: The more things change, the more things stay the sameIn 2012, we will do everything perfectly and effortlessly. We will work out every day, actually read all of the assigned texts and catch up with all of the people we meant to see last quarter. We will go to office hours every week, roll out to social events and keep our email inboxes free of clutter. We vow to be more spontaneous and to check things off our Stanford bucket list. Oh, and obviously, we’ll also sleep eight hours a night. Casual.

 

It’s a nice picture, but a flawed one. In a way, it reminds me of my middle school mentality towards our monthly mile run. The night before the big day, I’d lie in bed and visualize myself bounding around the school track. One, two, then three, four — in my head, those obligatory four laps wouldn’t even leave me winded. Mind over matter; it was just that easy!

 

But no matter how much mental energy I expended, I always had to walk at lap three. Despite the fact that I never practiced in between runs, I assumed I’d magically be able to improve at the next event three weeks later, just because I willed it to be so.

 

In a similar way, the dream of fundamentally revamping your life overnight just doesn’t translate into reality. You can dream about your dozen resolutions ’til the cows come home, but if you stop to think about it for a split second, the realization hits that there just isn’t enough time in a single day to do it all, let alone do it all well. Taken individually, each resolution presents a noble aspiration — who would disagree with vowing to study harder, work out more, socialize with old friends or get more sleep? But our lives don’t exist in a vacuum, and try as we might, there is only so much we can do to compartmentalize our schedules. In the real world, we all have to choose between resolutions: do you sleep more and sacrifice the problem set? Do you study that much harder or go to the party? Do you go to office hours or hit the gym?

 

There is no one answer: different circumstances call for different decisions. However, most people still insist on thinking about New Year’s resolutions in an all-or-nothing kind of way. We believe that resolutions, once fulfilled, will enable us to sidestep choices between two good things, when all they are really capable of is helping us to manage them.

 

That’s why New Year’s resolutions often fall flat. It’s easy to get trapped in the Stanford feast-or-famine mentality. Instead of tackling our resolutions in a slow and steady, strategic way, we don full battle attire and swing into action, sending out twenty emails we’ve meant to write for the past month, going to the gym religiously and booking ourselves solid with advisor meetings. We exhaust ourselves during one or two unsustainable weeks, only to find ourselves too burnt out to keep up with any one of our resolutions for the rest of the year.

 

Not every change can be realized in a day. But most tasks, no matter how daunting, can be accomplished long-term. The problem is that most of us view New Year’s resolutions as quick-fix solutions to larger issues; thus, we employ a flawed approach to following through on them.

 

Every day, we’re forced to make choices about what’s important. What we choose is always motivated by something, but it’s where that motivation comes from that truly matters when making those decisions. Most often, you’re choosing between two desirable things. We’ve all been there: you wake up early with the intention to go running, but all your body wants in that moment is more sleep. Do you press snooze? If you really do need the sleep, then sleep! But if you’re just avoiding the day, get up. The lines are blurry and hard to distinguish.

 

My procrastination method of choice is avoiding what really needs to get done by fooling myself into something else that seems productive at first blush. (For example, deleting emails from my inbox appeals to me much more than reading for class). What matters isn’t really whether or not you put something off to tomorrow — after all, we are only capable of so much in a day without going crazy — but whether that choice is a deliberate one, motivated by what’s really good for you.

 

We want it all. And we can have it all. Just not overnight. Start slowly and give yourself time to adjust to new habits. There was a reason why I couldn’t just will myself to run that monthly mile back in middle school: I didn’t practice. But with enough repetition, anyone can run a marathon!

 

In that case, though, I think I’ll make the deliberate choice not to.

 

Want to know Leslie’s resolution for the New Year? Email her at labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Stuck in a rut https://stanforddaily.com/2011/12/01/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-stuck-in-a-rut/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/12/01/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-stuck-in-a-rut/#respond Thu, 01 Dec 2011 08:28:11 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1052649 In short, I am a creature of habit. But aren’t we all? Routine, tradition, schedule: it’s so much easier to choose the comfortable inertia of what’s familiar over the uncertainty that comes from a gamble.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Stuck in a rutLet’s be honest: there’s a 60-year-old trapped inside my 21-year-old body. In my perfect world, I’d be in bed by eleven every night, nursing a cup of Yogi tea while penning in the answers to the daily crossword. People now respond with “typical” when I just laugh at the suggestion of throwing back a few shots and raging at a frat party. My procrastination websites of choice are not Reddit or Perez Hilton, but rather lumosity.com brain training (I swear by it!) or Heidi Swanson’s vegetarian food blog, 101cookbooks. I still don’t understand YouTube. I can (and do) spend hours on end playing board games. I’m the kind of person who looks at a menu for 15 minutes, asks the waiter an average of three questions and then settles on the same thing I always order.

 

In short, I am a creature of habit. But aren’t we all? Routine, tradition, schedule: it’s so much easier to choose the comfortable inertia of what’s familiar over the uncertainty that comes from a gamble. When I know I can enjoy a lovely evening by myself watching the latest episode of Top Chef, why would I go through the hassle of picking up the phone, calling my friends and trying to figure out their plans for the night when those plans may very well fall through and leave me in the lurch? In short, it’s a much “safer,” “easier” option to accept the guaranteed payoff of Top Chef, rather than venture into the territory of an uncertain outcome.

 

Here’s the irony, though (if I’m using that word correctly). I know I’m my happiest, best self when I deviate from what’s routine.

 

My comfortable status quo tends to be solitude. Frankly, though, people annoy me sometimes. Put me in a big group of people trying to decide what to do and I literally go crazy. We’ll spend hours spinning our wheels, talking in circles, stewing over where to go, what to do, what to eat, etc. The Stanford student in me cringes at the inefficiency. And for that matter, it’s frustrating to wait on people to make up their minds only to cancel last minute. In my mind, it’s much better to avoid that whole rigmarole by doing things alone.

 

But even though I enjoy my alone time, it’s also my emotional crutch. As I learned from living alone in Paris over the summer, too much solitude is never good for anyone. Yet even though I know I need people, I still struggle to reach out.

 

That’s not everyone’s rut. One person’s rut can be another person’s adventure. But we all have our variations on the general theme, and only we know exactly what it takes to break out of our comfort zones.

 

Regardless of what your routine is, deviating from the norm will always require taking a risk. And, unfortunately, that lands you smack dab in the middle of uncertainty, a no-man’s land where no one feels particularly comfortable. Taking a risk could generate a potential failure, and, after all, don’t we like what we’re good at? So, we revert to the comfort of sitting on the couch, watching a movie instead of getting out and about, exploring all that life has to offer.

 

Every day can be an adventure. That’s one thing travel has taught me. Being in a new city for a limited amount of time makes you start to milk every second of every day for what it’s worth. You’ll run yourself ragged going from museum to museum, or from landmark to landmark. But how many of us have taken the time to explore what our own hometown or campus has to offer? It’s not that there’s nothing to do. By virtue of going to Stanford, we all get ten thousand different emails from ten thousand different groups every day advertising all sorts of cool and exciting events on campus! And if that wasn’t enough, San Francisco’s golden aura beckons us from the horizon. But even though I’m well apprised of all the current goings on in the city, life’s daily grind will most likely always trump my grand aspirations of adventure.

 

But life doesn’t have to be boring if you choosefor it to not be. There are so many opportunities to do something different or fun in every moment. From exhibits to see, mountain paths to travel, sports to try, hobbies to rekindle, new people to meet, old friends to have coffee with, different food to try — adventure is yours to create. It doesn’t have to be a big to-do if you don’t want it to be. Sometimes, it’s enough to strike up a conversation with the grocery store cashier or run a different route around campus. But it does require that you put forth the effort and take a risk, allowing yourself the freedom to try…and sometimes fail!

 

Want to place a bet on whether Leslie will actually end up going to Thursday’s senior night? Email labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu to find out!

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Survival of the skittish https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/17/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-survival-of-the-skittish/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/17/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-survival-of-the-skittish/#comments Thu, 17 Nov 2011 08:28:49 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1051877 So what can we do to fight against a constant state of worry, negativity and self-doubt?

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Survival of the skittishHave you ever tried to sneak up on a wild animal? Picture it: you’re hiking in the forest and, all of a sudden, come across a deer. You stand stock still, trying not to scare it off, then take a tentative step forward. Its ears prick up, its head lifts, somehow sensing your presence. You pause, then inch closer. Closer. Then, bam! That deer practically flies off into the trees.

That’s evolution for you. In order to survive, animals live in a constant state of watchful apprehensiveness. Their default state of scanning the environment and looking out for trouble is what kept them alive all these years. And for a gazelle, that underlying sense of fear is still a pretty great adaptation to avoid being gobbled up by a lion while grazing in the savannah.

Fortunately, most of us no longer have to worry about impending doom on a daily basis — unless you’re biking through the Circle of Death. Unfortunately, that default “survival” mentality is still ingrained. Though we aren’t confronting “fight or flight” on a daily basis, our wired-to-worry human brain either creates imaginary problems or exaggerates the ones that actually do exist.

It’s a pretty exhausting way to live. No matter how good or bad a given situation, our minds tend to blow things out of proportion. But when we really stop and examine the actual present moment, virtually all of us are okay, even though it may not feel like it. It’s only by projecting into the future (i.e. worrying) or ruminating on the past (i.e. regret) that we start to think we’re not. Of course, life isn’t always rainbows and sunshine, but moment-to-moment, our core needs are met. Look around. There’s no civil war (unless you count Big Game), no bombs going off, you’re not drowning. Right here, right now, you are okay.

So what can we do to fight against a constant state of worry, negativity and self-doubt?

As trite as it sounds, it all comes back to the power of positive thinking. Our brain is like a sponge for negative thoughts. No matter how many things go right, all of our mental energy fixates on one that went wrong or could have gone better. When I was younger, I’d judge my entire piano recital on the one passage that tripped me up. When my mom told me to think about all the notes I hit right, I would absolutely fume at her. Honestly, I thought it was a pile of coddling bullshit.

But I’m beginning to see the logic.

We all have ownership of our lives. That includes problems we imagine, over-dramatize or that actually exist! There are ways that we can re-train our neural pathways to guard against the mental wear and tear that we too often put ourselves through. When you feel like the world is conspiring against you, take a step back into the present moment and acknowledge that you are still actually okay. And allow yourself to take in what positivity you can: maybe you’re really down about not having a boyfriend or girlfriend, but don’t just dismiss a friendly hug simply because you see the situation as black or white.

Blanket statement: this is much easier said than done. How many of us want to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and be glad the sun is shining when we just bombed a problem set, or the guy we like just asked out another girl?

In the short run, playing the martyr may seem like the more appealing option. But in the long run, it’s like quicksand; it only leaves you more mired in negativity and depression. Too often, we wait for other people to save us when we’re the only ones who can choose to change our own mindset.

That’s not to say that venting is wrong. Having emotions and needing to express them is part of what makes us human. But after a certain point, venting is only productive when you take charge of your ability to change a given situation. And that doesn’t necessarily mean changing a given outcome. Sometimes, there is really nothing you can do to change things. But what you can always change is your perspective, the lens through which you perceive life.

I had to learn to rescue myself from — well — me. I’ve spent far too much time pretending everything is fine and then running off to cry in the corner, hoping that someone would miraculously swoop in and find me. I had to learn — and am still learning! — to reach out to people and let them know I needed help.

We all face a similar choice. Chances are, there are things you know will make you feel better, if you allow yourself to feel better. Give yourself the medicine you need for positive thought: if you struggle with insecurity or rejection, reach out for friendship and love. Or, if you’ve never felt like you could stand on your own, fight for independence. It’s one of the hardest things to do because it hits at our deepest psychological wounds, but it is within our power. And it’s something that we all can do in order to take ownership of the moment and feel a little better. Right here. Right now.

Is this too much Pollyanna for you? Tell Leslie at labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s off to work we go https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/10/dont-sweat-the-small-stuff-hi-ho-hi-ho-its-off-to-off-work-we-go/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/10/dont-sweat-the-small-stuff-hi-ho-hi-ho-its-off-to-off-work-we-go/#comments Thu, 10 Nov 2011 08:29:16 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1051609 I live in a co-op. You may have heard of them. They’re those “really grimy, dirty houses on campus where people don’t shower and grow excessively long body hair.” Or at least, that’s what they are to those who have been too frightened by the prospect of dirt to actually walk inside.

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Don't Sweat the Small Stuff: Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to work we goI live in a co-op. You may have heard of them. They’re those “really grimy, dirty houses on campus where people don’t shower and grow excessively long body hair.” Or at least, that’s what they are to those who have been too frightened by the prospect of dirt to actually walk inside.

But here’s where I separate fact from fiction. Yes, I’ve never had to wait in line for one of five showers in Columbae (interpret as you will), but no, we are not Neanderthals, more related to apes than humans.

In fact, I’m going to make a bold statement. After having spent a year in a freshman dorm followed by a housed sorority, Columbae is by far the cleanest of the three.

No, really, I’m dead serious. Okay, maybe it’s all psychological, but hear me out.

For those of you completely unfamiliar with the co-op lifestyle, let me break it down. Life in a co-op means no cleaning staff and no chef. Through a system of weekly and bi-weekly jobs, we do all of our own chores. It doesn’t really matter what individual job you sign up for–whether it’s scrubbing the woodblock after lunch or tidying the common area or cooking dinner; taken all together, the job system ensures that daily life in the house runs smoothly.

As someone who never did her own laundry growing up, I had the sudden realization in college that dirty clothes would–well–stay dirty if I didn’t wash them myself. Living in a co-op has taught me the same lesson about cooking and cleaning. Plates that aren’t washed stay unwashed. Common areas that collect clutter stay cluttered. And toilets that don’t get scrubbed…let me just say that they get really gross.

How long does it really take to wash out your cereal bowl in the morning before running off to class? Not long enough to make you significantly later, but just long enough to justify leaving it for someone else. And once the first dirty dish is left in the sink, forget trying to stave off the tide of dirty dishes that will follow in its footsteps. Unfortunately, that’s the reigning mentality in most houses: creating a mess entitles you to bequeath cleaning it to someone else. Most people clean their own rooms when necessary, but when it comes to the kitchen or the lounge, the tragedy of the commons is hard at play. And why wouldn’t it be, when messes magically disappear overnight with the arrival of the cleaning staff in the morning?

There’s no way to prevent messes or clutter. After all, we’re college students! We’re bound to raid the pantries at all hours and scatter crumbs all over the floor, drop our books in the computer cluster and then forget about them or amass upwards of twenty cups in our rooms. That part will never change. It’s how you deal with the mess that makes all the difference.

Things are far from perfect in co-ops. I’ll be the first to admit that neat freaks might want to reconsider pre-assigning to Columbae. But from everything I’ve seen, people in co-ops take more pride in their living space than most anywhere else. Maybe we don’t clean up our messes as well as a maid might, but in general, co-op residents have learned to take ownership of the individual impact they can have on the community. It’s the job system that kick-starts this incredible community buy-in. Instead of hating cleaning up, people learn to love the sound of “Hobart!” as a sign to flock to the kitchen and help unload dishes and silverware. Weekly cleaners blast music and sing as they pot-wash. Dinner cook crews have life-chats while chopping carrots. Ideally, the system creates a community of individuals who wash their dishes not because they have to, but because they truly care about respecting not only their own living space, but that of all other fifty residents.

You’d think people would free-ride, but somehow, they generally don’t. Shirking your weekly job makes you look bad in front of all your peers. Furthermore, as much as the time commitment is hard, the satisfaction makes up for it. Whenever you make a positive impact on the house, you feel a sense of connection to your community; these small actions on the part of individuals on behalf of the whole are what makes co-ops not just survive, but thrive.

Last Tuesday, I spent approximately six hours baking English muffins for the house. And while I cursed my life flipping 250 individual balls of dough over a hot griddle at 1 a.m., there was nothing like the feeling of satisfaction after I had pulled the last batch out of the oven. Knowing that you that you defied the laws of physics and made this chaotic universe a little less chaotic (take that, Newton’s 2nd law!) is, in a word, awesome.

Leslie’s always looking for baking partners, so email her at labrian “at” Stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: The tricks and treats of Halloween https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/03/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-the-tricks-and-treats-of-halloween/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/11/03/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-the-tricks-and-treats-of-halloween/#respond Thu, 03 Nov 2011 07:28:57 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1051392 Forget midterms. For the past month, my Halloween costume has been the major source of stress in my life.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: The tricks and treats of HalloweenForget midterms. For the past month, my Halloween costume has been the major source of stress in my life.

When I first arrived at Stanford, it had been four years since I had actually dressed up for Halloween — I had given up costumes along with trick-or-treating as a high school freshman. Boy, was I in for a shock! Unlike the carefree days of childhood when I relished dressing up as a picnic table or as the Y2K bug, I was suddenly confronted by the quintessential female dilemma between a costume that says, “I’m hot but have no self-respect” versus “I’m clever but sadly unattractive.” As Lindsay Lohan quipped of her female peers, on Halloween, “the hardcore girls just wear lingerie and some form of animal ears.” In an ideal world, we’d have that perfect intersection of clever enough to be spunky and stand out, but still cute and pretty. But it’s such a fine line to walk, and one that expends a huge amount of mental energy.

I had to adapt quickly. Living on a campus that is undeniably obsessed with costumes means that I’ve been to more themed parties than I can count. At one point during sophomore year, I was probably in costume more evenings than not! So, Halloween costumes aren’t exactly uncharted territory for students who dig through their rally boxes for Band Run, special dinners and progressives on an almost daily basis. (In fact, I’m pretty much convinced that one of the secret requirements for all Stanford admits is a latent passion for dressing up in crazy costumes.)

Costumes should be — and are! — fun. It’s our own obsession with looking good and hooking up that has superimposed all this stress on dressing up. Yes, Halloween does give us carte blanche to be as slutty or as irreverent as we want, but that’s not the main reason behind its appeal.

Clear away all the partying and sexuality around costumes, and what we’re left with is the pure essence of childhood. Most all of us had “dress-up boxes” of costume jewelry and fake fur! And I’m pretty sure that riffling through your family scrapbook will ultimately produce a picture of your one-year-old swaddled in a pumpkin costume whose contours matched your chubby cheeks. On Halloween night, I distinctly remember the unbridled ecstasy of being allowed to stay out late that almost rivaled my anticipation of Christmas Eve. And don’t even get me started on the massive candy swap the next day at school! It was like Wall Street had suddenly invaded the lunchroom! (As I recall, demand ran high for Snickers and Reese’s while Mounds always got sidelined.)

Those are the memories that Halloween conjures up for me. But it represents something far greater. Putting on a Halloween costume is like catching a glimpse of your childhood self. It harkens back to the illustrious “golden era of childhood,” when things were actually a lot simpler than they are now.

The comfort we can derive from childhood memories is unbelievably powerful. Although some people have more than others, it’s pretty rare to find a person completely devoid of a single, cheesy, happy-go-lucky childhood memory; we all have something to draw upon for comfort. Whether it’s a favorite childhood book that you’ve read too many times to count (for me, anything by Roald Dahl) or watching your favorite Disney movie and belting out every song lyric, we channel our childhoods in so many different ways. There are times when I come home for winter break and sit down to an eight-hour marathon of playing Age of Empires on my old desktop computer. Whenever I see someone doing a jigsaw puzzle, I literally cannot contain my joy. And no matter what, tree-climbing will always remain one of my favorite activities of all time.

There’s a reason why adults return to the things they loved as part of their childhood. That kid who was always digging in the sandbox might end up as a famous archaeologist, and the sports you loved as a child are often the ones you’ll enjoy throughout your life. When you reconnect with what you loved as a child, you’re actually more able to enjoy life as an adult!

So whether it’s keeping a stuffed animal you’ve had since you were two on your bed or playing a favorite family board game or turning your passion for creepy critters into a career, find a way to channel your childhood into your life. When you do recall those happiest of memories, you settle into your healthiest mentality. Getting in touch with your childhood self doesn’t mean you’re immature, it’s a part of identifying your true self!

Even though my next Halloween won’t be on the Farm, I don’t doubt that the underlying tensions will stay the same. And while it’s hard to avoid playing into the roles that our costumes typecast for us, I always think about my four-year-old self.

Would she really want me to wear that?

That’s what I thought.

Want to know what Leslie was for Halloween this year? Email her at labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: (A chronicle) of cookies and cauliflower https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/27/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-a-chronicle-of-cookies-and-cauliflower/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/27/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-a-chronicle-of-cookies-and-cauliflower/#respond Thu, 27 Oct 2011 07:28:04 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1051134 My point is less about the joys of kale per se than it is about the process through which I came to love it -- that is, by making it my own. I don’t intend to make any sweeping nutritional statement about the health benefits of oregano or how imbibing ginger tea three times a day improves digestion. I’m talking about something much more basic and vastly more important: the simple enjoyment of preparing food and then eating it.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: (A chronicle) of cookies and cauliflowerIs kale a(n): a) animal, b) vegetable or c) mineral?

If you answered ‘b,’ you’re correct. But until I arrived in Columbae last year, for all I knew, kale could have been a strange relative of the stork family or maybe a kind of sedimentary rock. Now, along with cauliflower and quinoa, it’s a staple of my diet.

I’ve come to love kale. My favorite preparation? Saute it with lots of garlic, then toss with soba noodles, lemon juice, walnuts, tons of parmesan cheese and — now, this is key — fresh lemon zest! In my mind, there are three things you can never have enough of: garlic (two cloves, really? Try more like fifteen), lemon zest (already established) and fresh herbs. I’m obsessed with all three. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever cooked anything in my life without one of them. When I’m home, I drive my mom crazy zesting lemon after lemon and hacking off whole branches of rosemary. Maybe it’s a little neurotic that I absolutely refuse to use pre-peeled garlic or frozen basil cubes, but to me, those little fresh additions provide a straight-from-the-earth feel that just makes me feel happier.

If you’re wondering why I keep rambling about kale and lemon zest, I promise I have a point. But keep in mind that this is coming from the girl who literally stuck her nose into every sack of cumin she encountered in the markets of Istanbul, so indulge me for a minute.

My point is less about the joys of kale per se than it is about the process through which I came to love it — that is, by making it my own. I don’t intend to make any sweeping nutritional statement about the health benefits of oregano or how imbibing ginger tea three times a day improves digestion. I’m talking about something much more basic and vastly more important: the simple enjoyment of preparing food and then eating it.

We eat six or seven times a day, but the very fact that food is such an ordinary, predictable part of our lives means that we seldom pay it much attention. As we scramble to meet deadline after deadline, more often than not, eating can become a chore, something we do on the run to fuel ourselves and move on with our day. We wind up skipping breakfast, rushing through lunch, bolting dinner and then overdoing it when we finally get a chance to breathe. It’s an absolutely exhausted, vicious cycle that leaves both body and soul undernourished.

Granted, no one has the luxury of tuning into the salty, crunchy, sensory experience of every pretzel. That being said, why shouldn’t we take a little extra time to savor the morsels we put in our mouths? American culture stamps moral labels on everything we eat, but honestly, the best piece of nutrition advice I’ve ever received is to just enjoy what you’re eating without the guilt. In fact, the Japanese food pyramid includes satisfaction and enjoyment as one of the pillars of good nutrition.

“But, wait!” you may say. If I eat whatever I want and enjoy it, I’ll spin out of control and eat junk food all day long!

Oh, come now. Can you really imagine eating chocolate cake and ice cream every day for breakfast, lunch and dinner? Neither can I. Part of tuning in is also listening to how certain foods and certain combinations of food affect how your body functions. If you want dessert, go for it! Actually, savor it! When you do, I have a sneaking suspicion that gorging on an entire cheesecake won’t make you feel too hot. And for that matter, when you really listen, you might find yourself craving broccoli or a salad, too!

By tuning into ourselves and the actual experience of eating, we’re better able to give our bodies exactly what they need while enjoying the food along the way. After all, our bodies have literally evolved so that they know what they need to thrive. Our challenge is to listen to their cues and respect their inner wisdom; when we insist our head knows better and try to override our bodies’ cues, that’s when we end up sabotaging ourselves.

So here’s my nutrition tip of the day: if you want to eat well, master the art of listening to your body. Personalize what you eat. Make it special to you and enjoy the experience.  You don’t have to take it an extreme, but whether it’s a particular brand of peanut butter (hint: Justin’s honey almond butter to-go packs = lifeblood) or adding a dash of nutmeg to your chai tea latte, that little extra touch can put a smile on your face!

Think you know of a spice that Leslie doesn’t? Try her. Email labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Perfectly imperfect https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/20/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-perfectly-imperfect/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/20/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-perfectly-imperfect/#respond Thu, 20 Oct 2011 07:29:48 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1050908 Let me just begin by saying that this column has been a struggle. I literally agonized for days over the subject matter. Sure, I had a few ideas, but none of them seemed good enough or appropriately timed for the circumstances of this particular week. Body painting? Too trite. Reunion Homecoming? Way too obvious. Lemon zest? (Yes, that was an option for this week’s column.) Too obscure. I sat and waited for inspiration to descend upon me in a golden haze. I took long walks, hoping my “Eureka!” moment would come somewhere between Alvarado and Gerona. Not one bit.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Perfectly imperfectLet me just begin by saying that this column has been a struggle. I literally agonized for days over the subject matter. Sure, I had a few ideas, but none of them seemed good enough or appropriately timed for the circumstances of this particular week. Body painting? Too trite. Reunion Homecoming? Way too obvious. Lemon zest? (Yes, that was an option for this week’s column.) Too obscure. I sat and waited for inspiration to descend upon me in a golden haze. I took long walks, hoping my “Eureka!” moment would come somewhere between Alvarado and Gerona. Not one bit.

The column you’re reading now is not the original version. My previous draft was demolished when Microsoft Word shut down unexpectedly just as I was hitting the save button — which, as a side note, wouldn’t have happened if I had been working on my laptop, but that’s been in the shop for a week after I splashed water all over its logic board. Could I do nothing right this week? Could nothing happen in my favor? I felt like throwing my hands up and screaming, “I give up, okay!” Obviously, it’s just not meant to happen.

So, sighing, I picked up the phone, cancelled the hair appointment I’ve been meaning to have for the past seven months (by God, this will happen at some point!), paid the cancellation fee and started to write. Originally, I was going to try and redo the column from memory, but something made me stop.

I was trying too hard to make this the “perfect” column. All those times I had dismissed my ideas because they weren’t exactly the right fit for this week had no bearing on the merit of the ideas themselves, but more about my insecurity over how people might perceive them. Deep down, I think I was scared that people would judge me for what I considered important enough to write about. In trying to write a column for someone else, I had second-guessed myself and lost my own voice.

We all want to control what people think of us and whether they like us. And when things don’t work out — whether that’s in a relationship, an assignment, a project or just life in general — I, at least, blame it on my own actions or lack thereof. “If only I had tried that much harder, said something else or acted differently…” Things could have been different. More aptly, I could have made things different.

But that’s all a fallacy. There is only so much we can do in order to change or control the situation. I’m definitely not advocating a passive approach to life, but sometimes, life throws you a curveball that you couldn’t have predicted. Nothing you could have done would have changed the situation, so why second-guess yourself to begin with?

Over-thinking is just your insecurity talking; acting is your confidence talking. Do what feels right in the moment. Nothing is wrong with believing in your own voice and following your own ideas. Trying to craft something in the hopes that another person will like it ultimately leaves you feeling empty and unsatisfied. There is no such thing as the “perfect” column. There’s no such thing as the “perfect” schedule or the “perfect” day or the “perfect” routine. As much as we all want a semblance of control over our lives, there’s a certain amount of uncertainty that we all need to accept in life.

This whole week has been an exercise in (im)perfection for me. Nothing seemed to go right. But that doesn’t mean it was all a waste. How you react to a situation matters so much more than how you try to preempt it. Because more often than not, things don’t go as planned, no matter how much you may have tried to manipulate the outcome. And sometimes, what we see as imperfect may just end up being the best thing that happens to us.

Leslie seriously wants to talk to someone about lemon zest. If that’s your thing, then you should email her at labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Now accepting applications: Class of 2012 https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/13/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-now-accepting-applications-class-of-2012/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/13/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-now-accepting-applications-class-of-2012/#comments Thu, 13 Oct 2011 07:29:06 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1050678 Exactly one week ago, the class of 2012 traded jeans for pencil skirts or slacks and flip-flops for high heels or loafers in preparation for the first milestone of the Cardinal Recruiting Calendar: the Fall Career Fair. Hundreds of potential employers swarmed White Plaza, each booth carefully packaged in plastic wrap to ward off unexpected showers. It’s a cruel twist of fate, really: one minute, you’re a happy-go-lucky undergraduate who’s guaranteed an outlet for anything you want to do on campus (Stanford clubs plead with you to join at the Activities Fair). The next thing, the tables have turned: suddenly, all the people behind the booths hold your future in their hands. Tell us why we need you, they ask.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: Now accepting applications: Class of 2012During the past two weeks, I’ve been trying to take time to smell the roses. After all, it’s the little things in life that matter, right? That fresh, crisp bite to the morning air just after last week’s thunderstorm, the sizzle of onions and garlic as it hits a hot cast-iron pan (gotta love Columbae), watching a string of YouTube videos and laughing until you cry (if you take anything away from this column, search “Ducks blown by wind”…you’ll thank me later.) Ahhh, life was good.

Then, wham! Caught up in all these little moments, I was blindsided by a certain “big” thing. A really big one. A giant dose of reality that came stomping through my rose garden and squashing all the flowers.

Exactly one week ago, the class of 2012 traded jeans for pencil skirts or slacks and flip-flops for high heels or loafers in preparation for the first milestone of the Cardinal Recruiting Calendar: the Fall Career Fair. Hundreds of potential employers swarmed White Plaza, each booth carefully packaged in plastic wrap to ward off unexpected showers. It’s a cruel twist of fate, really: one minute, you’re a happy-go-lucky undergraduate who’s guaranteed an outlet for anything you want to do on campus (Stanford clubs plead with you to join at the Activities Fair). The next thing, the tables have turned: suddenly, all the people behind the booths hold your future in their hands. Tell us why we need you, they ask.

I somehow missed the career fair memo. Getting a job was something seniors did much later in the year, not during week two, right?! I didn’t pay much attention to the CDC emails. I put the career fair in my iCal, but then promptly forgot in the face of more short-term deadlines. So, when my friends asked me whether I was going, I responded with “What career fair?”

I guess I figured it was optional? Or maybe the reality didn’t hit me until I saw everybody looking like they had raided their parents’ closets and emerged outfitted in shoes two sizes too big with lipstick smeared across their teeth. This wasn’t me! These weren’t my peers. The fact that we are poised to launch into the real world was too surreal to process.

When I realized I had fallen behind, I immediately slipped into panic mode. True to Stanford form, when confronted with a problem, I wanted an immediate solution. In a desperate attempt to play catch-up on everything I had missed, I booked myself solid with career advising appointments, meetings with professors and company information sessions.

A mere three days into my job-search binge, I found myself strung out, dazed and exhausted. But if I couldn’t handle more than 72 hours of this, how would I end up doing anything other than flipping burgers post-graduation?

I had to take a step back and breathe. And when I looked at the whole picture again, I had a new perspective.

So many of us are people of extremes. And it applies to everything in our lives, not just job searches. Sometimes, I feel that if I don’t do something 150 percent, it’s not worth doing at all. Why apply for jobs unless you can devote 12 straight hours to research, emails, applications and resume-building? Work is only “work” if you’re staying up all night, jacked on coffee, with a minimum of four different papers or assignments due the next day. At the same time, relaxation only comes packed in super-sized doses: sleeping in past 2 p.m., watching full seasons of TV for hours on end or taking an entire day to procrastinate.

Whatever happened to balance? True, it’s easier to stick your head in the sand or attack in full battle array, but neither of these will ultimately lead to a real solution in the long run. In fact, they’re both two sides of the same coin: fight or flight. Either way, we don’t take time to tune into ourselves and really engage with the issues and what they mean for us. While it’s easier to see things in black and white, isn’t there room for gray? But what would that even look like? Could I work steadily on an application for a few days while still taking a break for lunch or going for a walk with a friend?

Yes, it’s possible. It’s just much harder to engage with the process and actually digest all the emotions it brings up than to launch into a “get it done” mentality that lets me power through 16 applications without thinking about what I’m writing in the first place.

So yes, the next time there’s a career fair, I’ll be there. My future is one of those big things in life I need to face. But I can face it one little step at a time. When we break it down into little pieces, it’s a more manageable and enjoyable process.

And trust me, no one is going to wind up flipping burgers.

Think Leslie seems like the perfect candidate for your job opening? Contact her at labrian “at” stanford “dot” edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: I just came to say “Hello” https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/06/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-i-just-came-to-say-%e2%80%9chello%e2%80%9d/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/10/06/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-i-just-came-to-say-%e2%80%9chello%e2%80%9d/#respond Thu, 06 Oct 2011 07:28:25 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1050419 But with week two at a close, the energy has shifted. That bubbly, over-the-top enthusiasm has gone flat as we resign ourselves to the daily grind. Between classes, advisor meetings, three clubs, tutoring, problem sets, papers and at least a modicum of hygiene and sleep, where does spontaneous social interaction fit in? When our schedules solidify, the first thing to go is that same human connection I, for one, so craved upon starting school.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: I just came to say “Hello”I’ve never been more ecstatic to set foot on campus than this fall: my last “first day of school” as a Stanford undergrad. Summers spent working long and lonely hours at a cubicle or living abroad without Internet access would make anyone other than a hermit lust for friendship; for me, seven months away from the place that I love sent me over the edge. I spent the last month of summer counting down the days until the start of the quarter, fantasizing about all the old friends I could catch up with and all the new people I could meet. Life was bursting with opportunity.

That first week of school sped by in a haze of supercharged social energy; we were screaming at each other from across White Plaza, giving each other giant bear hugs and booking ourselves solid with catch-up dates. By the end of the week, I was hoarse from hours of talking, strung out on caffeine and broke from Fraiche.

But with week two at a close, the energy has shifted. That bubbly, over-the-top enthusiasm has gone flat as we resign ourselves to the daily grind. Between classes, advisor meetings, three clubs, tutoring, problem sets, papers and at least a modicum of hygiene and sleep, where does spontaneous social interaction fit in? When our schedules solidify, the first thing to go is that same human connection I, for one, so craved upon starting school.

My first-day-of-school excitement is melting into a sad little puddle of insecurity and complacency. Either I’m just too lazy to walk across the street to Xanadu, too preoccupied with writing this column to interact with anyone around me (hmmm, something’s wrong with that picture) or so insecure that whomever I text either doesn’t want to get together or that once we start talking there will be nothing to say. So, I find myself sending phantom texts to no one while crossing White Plaza to avoid awkward encounters with people I know well enough to say “hi” to, but not well enough to engage in full-on conversation.

Suddenly I’m afraid to reconnect. It’s almost as though the words “Let’s grab coffee!” or “We really should catch up!” have become synonymous with “See you later!” — another sign-off whose meaning carries no real weight. Upon parting ways, who knows whether the other person actually meant he wanted to connect, or whether it was just a routine gesture of politesse?

Aside from insecurities, there are a whole slew of things that get in the way of making and keeping plans. When deadlines loom, cancellation becomes the default. We tell ourselves that there will be another time later for that coffee, but let’s be real: for the average Stanford student, there’s never an opportune moment to spend an hour or two just catching up.

We’re all so damn busy scheduling every moment of our lives that there’s no space to breathe in between blocks of time allotted for this or that. For that matter, after expending so much energy playing mental Tetris with our schedules, who in their right mind would want to deviate from the plan? If you haven’t been booked into someone’s iCal, good luck catching him or her at a spare moment! But it is this very preoccupation with our schedule that disconnects us from the present and inhibits us from engaging with the here and now.

I’m not saying to avoid your homework, skip showers or not apply to grad school. We do go to Stanford, we are busy and there are important things that need to get done. But don’t we all need an hour of wiggle room every day to get distracted by people you haven’t “penciled in” or to let yourself stop for those five-minute impromptu conversations in the hallways?

Make time for human connection. Make time for the people you know well, as well as those you don’t. Because at the end of the day, people are what matter most. That person you keep meaning to reach out to? You should. No matter how much time may have passed, it’s never too late or too awkward. Even a five-minute conversation goes a long way, provided you’re truly sincere and engaged the whole time. When you ask someone how they are, mean it! Look them in the eye, touch them on the shoulder, connect with them, if only for a few moments. Those little gestures of empathy can change both your day and theirs more than you know.

College is the only time in our lives when friends act as a surrogate family. We are literally surrounded on a daily basis by 6,800 of the most amazing people on the face of the planet. These are the people that will be changing the world in five or ten years, and here we are, all living together. Take advantage of your four years here to connect with as many of them as possible. Not doing so? Now that would be the real waste of the moment!

Think Leslie’s one of those pretty amazing people you’d like to connect with? Shoot her an email and tell her what you think at labrian(at)stanford.edu.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: A morning jolt https://stanforddaily.com/2011/09/29/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-a-morning-jolt/ https://stanforddaily.com/2011/09/29/don%e2%80%99t-sweat-the-small-stuff-a-morning-jolt/#respond Thu, 29 Sep 2011 07:29:57 +0000 https://stanforddaily.com/?p=1050193 For most of us, the sound of an alarm clock is tantamount to impending doom. Who doesn’t shudder at the thought of the synthesized marimba chime of an iPhone? -- or at the alarm clock that grins obnoxiously and chirps “Good morning!” when all you want to do is beat its little electric cogs into a pile of scrap metal? Sure, it can smile; you’re still the one who has to face the day.

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Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff: A morning joltFor most of us, the sound of an alarm clock is tantamount to impending doom. Who doesn’t shudder at the thought of the synthesized marimba chime of an iPhone? — or at the alarm clock that grins obnoxiously and chirps “Good morning!” when all you want to do is beat its little electric cogs into a pile of scrap metal? Sure, it can smile; you’re still the one who has to face the day.

It’s a hot mess: you stumble or trip out of bed and over your book bag, pull on a pair of Nike running shorts and a Stanford sweatshirt, grab an apple if you’re lucky and bike to class, where you sit in a stupor until you can spare a moment to buy coffee. The mess, of course, gets even hotter if special dinner from the night before resulted in your waking up and rolling into a Stats class still wearing your Scooby Doo costume from CarToyon Network, but let’s not go there.

That said, I’m going to make a heretical statement.

I’m a recent morning convert. Nothing grounds me better than the serene sense of calm that washes over me in the still, crisp morning air. I have come to cherish my morning ritual. After six months abroad, I spent the past month at home indulging in much-needed recuperation. Every morning, I’d wake up early, put in my iPod earbuds and walk over to my neighborhood cafe for a cup of their vanilla nut coffee. Now, I’ve always wanted to be the kind of person who takes her coffee black. I mean, think about it: black coffee drinkers just radiate the kind of super intense, no nonsense, go-getter energy that I thrive on. Cream and sugar were for wusses; survivors drank black coffee. It was sort of a I’m-hardcore-therefore-my-coffee-must-also-be-a-symbol-of-my-intensity mentality.

But after almost five years of enduring the foul bitter liquid, I want to make something very clear: I do not like my coffee black. In fact, there is nothing better than a cup of vanilla nut or hazelnut coffee with whole milk (gasp!) or — dare I say it? — half and half with Splenda (okay, I haven’t quite gotten to using real sugar yet, but I’m taking baby steps.) I realize my coffee doesn’t scream “intense,” but to me, it is perfect. I like the blend so much that I brought a huge bag of it with me back to Stanford. From the feeling of the French press as it yields ever so gently to the firm push of my palm, to the aroma that accompanies its preparation, to the tendrils of white that unfurl in the mug as I pour just enough creamer to turn the coffee that wonderful shade of milky brown, to the rich, hint-of-sweet, nutty taste, it is perfection in a mug. I close my eyes and exhale deeply. That very first sip warms me with the comfort that — no matter what has happened before — it’s a new day with new opportunities just waiting to be explored. Life goes on, as beautiful and abundant as ever.

Sure, I make sacrifices. For a Stanford senior, waking up at 7:30 AM is not exactly the recipe for a wild night on the town.  But even with the craziness that comes with fall classes and activities, I’m fighting to keep those mornings.

So here’s a challenge for the rest of you: consecrate mornings to yourself. Maybe you’re not a coffee person, but find your favorite blend of tea and cherish the process of making and enjoying it. Prepare and savor a good breakfast, whatever that may be for you — truly, being a breakfast person is awesome. Take that time to set a wonderful tone for your day.

But more importantly, pause. Look around, if only for a few short seconds, to see how unbelievably amazing this world is, and how beauty can be found in everything if we take the time to notice and appreciate it. Trust me, ten or fifteen minutes in the morning can put a smile on your face for the rest of the day.

That’s the kind of little moment I cherish. Those small perfections of life that remind you just how amazing the world is and cause the corners of your mouth to turn up ever so slightly. The sights, smells, sounds, tastes, noises and experiences that make you pause and go, “God, life is just too good, isn’t it?”

This column is dedicated to those moments. To the little things in life. To taking the time to recognize them and appreciate them throughout the day. To that perfect cup of coffee in the morning. Or to how the gentle, crisp morning sunlight differs from the harsher heat of the afternoon. To the moment when the pace of my feet match the rhythm of my favorite song as I walk along the tree-lined avenue back to my home. In that moment, I know that everything will be okay, that I’m okay and that the world is okay. And that life, for all its ups and downs, is still beautiful. Those are the moments I live for.

Leslie wants to know if you enjoy the little things, so email her at labrian”at”stanford.edu.

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