Missing piece

July 16, 2024

My first time visiting the east coast has converted me to a staunch “east coast best coast” supporter. For those who know me, this may come to be surprising. As someone who comes from the west coast, I was in support of the “west coast best coast” mantra. Even my first Instagram post was captioned “west coast best coast 🤩”, accompanied by pictures from a biology camp in Alameda, CA. Little did I know that two years later, I’d return to the field from the other side.

A rough April resulted in little option for choosing the trajectory of my summer, but the silver lining was that I could visit Boston, a dream I didn’t even realize was mine. Reno is tiny, often referred to as “the biggest little city in the world,” but Boston is rich in population, history, and opportunity. It’s even relatively safe, has somewhat decent public transportation, and a lot of food. I did so much research on the latter that my mom asked, “So are you here for the camp or for the food?”

Well, the little option didn’t seem so bad after all.

I was scared of repeating what happened two years ago at the Rosetta Institute of Biomedical Research. For one, I didn’t document very much about the camp itself. The only place in which I documented was my old blog, but even then, it was more about work, the philosophical, and food.

The more nagging problem was I had trouble making friends. There were about ten camp members, except it was also heavily divided between guys and girls, so there weren’t many people to talk to. You’d think that it would be really easy to get to know everyone given the conditions, but this was the time that I consistently identified myself as 97% introverted. I didn’t really talk to anyone, but it was nice of the girls to still take me around to random places. However, it felt super isolated, and I pretty much have no connections to any of the people I met there. Work was a stronger part of my summer than the camp itself.

And also, through one of the only pieces of reflection I did, I wrote the following:

"We did nothing for two hours, and we were really confused as to why we were being held up. At some point, someone asked if we could leave, and apparently we could?? :thinking: So I just... left. That was it. It felt super weird because there was no closure. I think it's because I didn't make the most of the experience."

But I quickly realized that fearing that things would go wrong is a not-so-fun way of entering a new environment. So what if things went right?

Turns out that finding friends at RISE was really easy. When wondering why it was much easier, I initially pointed at how I became more extroverted, but I also think that this group of people have a similar mindset of wanting to find friends and wanting to be there. All of us are curious about the material, curious about the city of Boston.

At a place I’d like to call a haven, I still find myself looking for the missing piece: the feeling of home.

I found myself gravitating towards certain people. This seems to be a natural thing that occurs, and by week two, it seems like friend groups are established. I can see why a friend mentioned that it’s harder to join a new group, because it’s the feeling of being an outsider. But I also think that it’s possible to join any group even if you have weaker ties. What matters is how open the group is, and this requires some experimentation.

It’s also interesting to see what kind of people I’ve gravitated towards. Some remind me of my past self. Some remind me of friends. Some remind me of people I’d like to model myself after. With every person I’ve gotten closer to, I can plot them near another person I know on a multidimensional graph of traits. In a place of unfamiliarity, I chase the familiar to adapt.

Maybe it’s why I get sad every time I visit a close friend. I haven’t felt homesick so far, but I also spend so much time being around people that I must mask any form of sadness. In those solo walks back to the dorm, I can’t run from reality anymore. Can’t pull up my computer to do work. Can’t listen to music or a podcast, since it’s for the sake of being alert while walking in the dark. It’s just raw thoughts running rampant.

If there’s only one thing that I can take away from the camp, it’s the people. Struggling over labs, complaining about the heat, touring notable places in Boston. It’s purely by chance that I’ve met these people, and it’s possible that I’ll never see them again. There’s also something about meeting people who have no connection to your past. For me, I feel no consequence for being fully authentic or for spilling my past, because it’s not like anyone can do any harm. As a result, it’s even easier to get close with people because they get me for who I am.

My hope is that slowly, I’ll bring this authenticity back home. At this new place, I’ve been chasing for pieces of home. Instead, I’ve found the missing piece of myself.

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