Friday (2/17)

So we arrived at an early and terrible time in the morning, but luckily we paid extra to check into our hotel early (unlike HMMT three years ago, where we spent the afternoon taking turns napping sporadically on the lobby couches and looking sick, like we didn't have enough vomit in our system to satisfy our urge to get it out).

I entered my room and took a long sweet nap, after which I FaceTimed my partner LWWX for a while to chit-chat because oh no it’s been almost 24 hours babyyy I miss you so much!

Afterwards, I went downstairs to eat lunch and found ES waiting in the lobby, and we had a very interesting and delightful conversation on what has been the greatest change in our lives since MOP this summer. The TLDR: "I got a partner." “Eyy same.”

To pass the afternoon, I went to Residence Inn lobby because that’s where BG and a bunch of other people were. BG introduced me to Nacho, and it turns out BG has a thing where he, uh, has a very active internet and social media presence so he knows literally everyone while nobody knows him, which is extremely hilarious. He just randomly points out people's names and knows specific information like what school they go to, and each time they're completely oblivious to his existence.

Some people played Nertz, but I didn’t remember how to play and I can only watch a card game I don’t understand for so long, so EL and I decided to go on a random walk together for the hour or two that we had left before we had to meet with our team again.


Very soon we wandered onto the MIT campus, where I was slightly disappointed at the scenery. The grass looked like they were all dead or wished they were. The architecture around is super cool though, although there’s little contiguity in style—two buildings next to each other will have distinctly unrelated aesthetics, and I’m not sure whether to be annoyed by the jarring contrast or delight at the freedom and variety.

We tried looking for a class, like a large lecture, that we could insinuate ourselves into, but it was difficult on a Friday afternoon, since all the rooms were either small graduate seminars or empty. We did take pictures in front of a blackboard in an empty room though.

Eventually, after some research, we realized that we were stuck with visiting an introductory physics class. It was about 40 students standing around in a pretty spacious room. The room was filled with small tables and the walls were entirely covered in whiteboards—students were working in groups of 3 or 4 on a problem set on a whiteboard. I asked if we could see the problems, and EL was like “oh it’s just AP Physics C material” thanks I wish I remembered my AP Physics C material. Not the ideal class to give me a first impression of the infamous MIT rigor, but it’s unfortunate circumstance.

Then two guys in the group we were awkwardly standing next to were talking about some “math competition” that a lot of people are here for, which is totally weird, right? Like, who would do that, ha, ha.

We also saw a strange creature that had the form of a squirrel, walked and climbed like a squirrel, sounded like a squirrel (silent), but had completely black fur. We were pretty amazed.


For some inexplicable reason, San Diego arrived to Friday night events an hour early, so we sat there while I was overheating in my wig and beanie and heavy jacket and no one was here to appreciate it.

Once people did arrive, though, I started greeting a few people although I was pretty scared. I said “Hi, I’m Jeremy!” to both Luke Robitaille and Ankit Bisain but they just looked at me weird and ignored me. (((( Is this what BG feels like everyday?

I couldn’t find anyone (turned out the TJ kids were staying at their hotel because they’re not allowed to come to sketchy events past curfew like “card games”) so I took off the disguise.

After traditional pizza and ice cream dinner, I went to the integration bee qualifying test as my first event. Half the room was San Diegans it’s crazyyyy San Diego is so cracked at integrals. I didn’t make it to top 8, but alas, I had no time to grieve.

I followed a bunch of San Diegans to Estimathon too, just as it was ending, and snagged a milk tea. It is here that I also found LC and EX, yayyy!!

By this point events were nearly over, so we all went up to the third floor. The room was cramped and dark—outside the door, a crowd of people leaned their heads, trying to catch what was going on. People squeezed in, or tried, as if desperately searching for some messiah; people squeezed out, because it was musty as heck and someone definitely had covid in there. It was… the karaoke room.

Honestly, this had to be my favorite event! I stole Jeff’s hat and gave it back, but karaoke really hits hard for me emotionally. Sure, I’m not good at singing, but that doesn’t matter! I love it, and there’s something special and pure about losing yourself in song with others.

Nobody else seemed as enthusiastic, so I found a corner in the back and started slightly dancing on my own, as long as I could until everyone else left and it was time for us to return home and I still wanted more. It’s not a thrill founded on some profound truth or meaning, it’s just a realization of the simple human desire to feel truly alive, and that’s overwhelming sometimes.

After everyone else returned to our hotel, I made a quick trip to TJHSST’s hotel because I realized I could meet them for like 20 minutes before I could return to make curfew. I was so excited, and even if I couldn’t troll them with my disguise in a crowd, it honestly doesn’t matter compared to an extra few minutes with them.

So I Ubered there immediately, putting my disguise on along the way. As I exited the car, my nose and ears felt like they were going to freeze off, and I didn’t know how to feel for an event I had anticipated for half a year. Behind wide glass doors, I saw LZ, VT, MK standing in a row, and so much nostalgia welled up—perhaps I was remembering the first time I met LZ, IZ, MK at the boba shop, or how I first joined them and VT as they were walking in a row at CMU—but there wasn’t enough time to think. I entered, ripped off my disguise and laughed, and we all hugged. (IZ, of course, was long asleep and couldn’t come down.)

We sat on a couch to just talk, but wow it was overwhelming. We had barely any time. My mind raced about what best to talk about, but I could barely form words. LZ couldn’t either, she just randomly looked at me in awe and waved and, to be honest, I could only do the same back. It was just so unbelievable that this face, this voice, this profile picture, this memory was suddenly solid and whole in front of me again.

I asked the same question ES was asking everyone—what’s your biggest life change since MOP? MK and LZ couldn’t say in the excitement of the moment, so VT talked a lot about a sequence of profound realizations that lead him to teaching at Daily Challenge. And everyone hugged.

On the Uber ride back, I called LWWX again to tell them about my day. Tonight was the best of nights.

HMMT was incredibly fun and rewarding and, to be honest, both as intense as I could handle and too little for me to be satisfied. I'll be posting by days periodically, as I usually do, because there’s enough content to cover multiple posts and I gotta beat the blogrolllll.

Thursday (2/16)

We got to the airport on Friday night with the two San Diego teams: AJ, BG, DaL, DeL, EQ, EL, ES, EL, JR, JL, JZ, ML, NM, RM, RS. Once we got to our gate, three friends of a friend who aren’t math sweats, SB, MC, AW, came to find me because it turns out that they were at the same airport as well on a Boston visit! They found me in an unfortunately recognizable condition though, although this requires context…

See, HMMT has been my only opportunity to reunite with some friends from MOP who I’ve missed very much. I’m terrible at maintaining contact through social media because texting is hard and annoying, so an in-person meeting is incredibly precious and I have been looking forward to this for a good six months since June. But for such a monumental reunion, one must duly prepare monumentally!

In the week before, I had prepared myself a disguise: I brought two wigs, a beanie, layers beyond layers of jackets to change my physical shape. I had sunglasses so cheap they broke if you touched them too hard. I borrowed a mask, I recorded a clip of a friend speaking so I could imitate his voice, because I judged his voice to be sufficiently different from mine. I had planned to get make-up, although that fell through at the last moment. I was going to put pebbles in my shoes so they wouldn’t catch me by my characteristic gait. I was going to troll them so hard and end by stealing IZ’s water bottle. I played the scene out in my head a million different times, daydreamed a million laughs and screams.

So I was at the airport trying on my wigs, and that’s how SB, MC, AW saw me when they pulled up. Everyone was like, "DX WHAT ARE YOU DOING" and I only had to explain repeatedly “Who’s DX? I’m Jeremy!”


Anyways, I sat next to BG on the flight. The ceiling was tiled like the AoPS logo. A weird humming sound appeared, so BG who is apparently an expert at planes because he rode one a few years ago insisted “this is definitely not a normal sound this is bad” and I laughed at him.

DeL had warned us ahead of time not to do any math right before HMMT, so we did a mock USAMO together, solving #1,2,4,5 on a 6-hour flight. I also spent some time practicing the voice of my alias. I got too sleepy near the end, so I leaned my head on the TV screen to catch some Z’s while BG continued solving math problems (he ended up solving #6).

Except every time the plane bounced up and down, my head bounced up and down on the screen and hit random buttons, and on not one, but two separate occasions, BG woke me up to ask why there was an adult scene playing on my TV screen. I DON’T KNOW BG! Why don’t you tell me why the TV screen next to you always goes to adult scenes while I’m unconscious?

MOP Travel Guide

Activities:

Singing Troupe: (10/10) Absolutely yes! Imagine not going to singing troupe! Kidnap as many of your friends as you can, stuff 'em in burlap sacks like sardines, and swing 'em in circles until they can recite the entirety of "Defying Gravity" with properly-timed rests.
Tip: Bring bug spray, or beg your dear lord that you're standing next to someone with sweeter-smelling blood.

Story Time: (10/10) Listen to Po-Shen Loh pour out 40 years of wisdom for an hour straight (even though he doesn't look a day over 25)! Extremely entertaining, incredibly insightful, voluminously valuable, particularly priceless. Also, lots of grass to fiddle with.
Tip: As above, it's spray or pray, my friends.

K-Pop Dancing: (9/10) It's super fun, like singing troupe but physical. Near the talent show the practice really piles up, though.

Board/Card Games: (N/A) IDK I didn't really do this much. Catan seemed popular (courtesy of JC). I can in fact confirm that Catan is very fun. Takes a long time, though.

Table Tennis: is hard. (4/10)

Pool: is also hard. (4/10)

Foosball: (7/10) Duh.

Frisbee: (10/10) is amazing fun and actually such good exercise.
Tip: JC is too good at frisbee.

Kennywood: (10/10) Funnel cakes are so tasty! Also they have fun rides, I guess.
Tip: So if you go to a fountain drink dispenser and you see a little tab under the lemonade with three water droplet symbols on it, you can press it and get water.

Seminars: (N/A) IDK I didn't do this much either. Based on hearsay, expect to understand nothing. Sasha's seminars are always interesting to look at, though.

Stay Up Past Curfew On The Fifth Floor: (10/10) Just be quiet.
Tip: Practice more caution than you expect you will need.

Have A Sleepover On The Fifth Floor, Become Infamous, and [REDACTED]: (11/10)
Tip: What?? A sleepover?? I said nothing.



Dining:

Resnik: (3/10) It's like... if you make a salad, but out of compost. The Egg Shoppe area has a choccy milk dispenser though, which bumps the score up from 1 to 3.
Tip: Smuggle desserts out for tests.

Waffallonia: (10/10) As unhealthy as it is tasty! Get every single topping for the sugar and the glory. Sorta long walk, 100% worth it.

T-Swirl Crepe: (10/10) Never been there, but heard that it's pretty dang solid.

Noodles or smth IDK: I'm bad at remembering restaurant names.

Chipotle: (N/A) Apparently popular, but then again the alternative is Resnik.

Boba: (10/10) Strawberry + Oreo makes Neapolitan!!! And no one believes me.

That one Chinese-McDonalds-esque fast food restaurant with that really good pineapple and chicken: (12/10)



Buildings:

Stever: (5/10). Floors 1 and 5 are the main attractions. Lobby always has people/activities! That grass out in front just begs for cartwheels. Also, if you go outside Stever at night, over the grass, you'll see so many fireflies floating around and they're breathtaking.
Tip: Only cowards take the elevator.

Doherty: (5/10) Long hallways are exquisite for doing cartwheels in the middle of a MOP test.

Wean: (7/10) Take the scenic "shortcuts" to and from class!! They also got excellent vending machines.
Tip: They can't force you to go to class.

Tepper: (20/10) A beauty. Finer than a dream. A temptation worth dying for. Also they have ice cream. :)))

Honestly there’s so much to say, I can only give an incomplete list, with probably less style then usual. Nothing I say now can take the place of what I noted down on my phone in the midst of it all, so I suppose we’ll start there (slightly modified to provide elaboration).

A new MOP discord server was made, inviting all of the students to a place where we, not the adults, would have the power. It remains active to this day.

EB coded a Discord bot called perMOOt that takes all participating members and pairs them up randomly everyday, and you have to talk to the person you’re paired up with. I did this for a couple weeks before stopping.

What else has happened? The yearbook has been released (thanks SL!). LZ’s and SL’s vlogs are out. I’ve been (very) slowly updating my blog, and reading and commenting on others. MOP-organized activities held out for a month longer after MOP ended. Normal life has taken over. I used to be in touch with most friends, sometimes. Now I’m in touch with some friends, occasionally. I'm no longer scared of finishing up the blog. I’ve moved on enough that now, blogging overly sentimental statements seems almost like lying, even though I know that I’m representing (to what degree I can) the true state of my past. Friendships are stable now. Not nearly as close as back then, but unlikely to really get much further apart in the half-year till HMMT (pronounced “himmit”, per insistence of IZ ). Isn’t it funny that we can now bond over our unbonding? (It hurts me to say it. Nonetheless, it would be utter denial to maintain that this distance hasn’t inevitably occurred. Everyone knows. Nobody says it.)

But it is not entirely as gloomy as I make it sound. A step down from “all-day superstar friendship” can still be amazing. And, if anything, the trust still remains largely unscathed. It can even grow. And with trust what I believe the foundation of the best friendships, how low can it all really fall? I hope this sentence does not age poorly.

I’ve even received a few birthday gifts from MOP friends! (Mailed from hundreds or thousands of miles away, it’s remarkable. They’re remarkable.) Holden suggested that all of TJ gang have a “short” call each week to catch up on each others’ lives. We have had two calls so far, running to three and two hours. They mean a lot.

I pray that we continue.

Act 3: Valediction

On Wednesday June 22 (this was still during MOP), I came across a certain problem: find an implicit bijection between the grid-walking representation of Catalan numbers and the ordered binary tree representation. Simple enough––just show the recurrence relation holds! But I wanted something fuller, more satisfying. So I gave myself the assignment: find an explicit bijection between the two and, sharing my fervor with RQ and IZ, I dove into rumination. I furrowed my eyebrows at this scratch paper for the rest of class, and even on the path to Resnik (imagine me shouting to long-irritated ears, “There must be an elegant solution, believe!”), and while we idled in the lunch line, I loitered upright staring downwards at a notebook of scratch paper between my hands.

At MOP, I began to look at my math journey with a more conscious eye. I realized tenacity. Stubbornness on the hard problems, refusal to give up effort as long as I can keep up hope. A trait which perhaps I still possessed to some degree, although I was unaware of it, but I almost certainly lost a great deal of potential in consciously discovering it too late. A potential I hope I can make up in the pursuits of my future, for sure, but which compels me also to tell the world here, those other me’s out there who maybe have the time left to rise higher, to shine brighter: stick with the problem, pester it as long as you sense progress at your fingertips. And pull apart each unsolved problem like an autopsy. What is the key idea? What did I miss? Why did I miss it, and how can I find it again? How powerful is the method, where else may it be used, and how will I know to use it?

Indeed, it was a sentiment not too unlike what I have just said, that I expressed to RQ on a walk (from boba, or to a restaurant, I forget) a few days prior to the Catalan numbers class. An observation that, really, this tenacity to play with ideas even when it’s hard––especially when it’s hard––is the greatest separator I discerned for academic success. So on the day of the Catalan numbers class, I wanted to prove to myself that I had this tenacity within me. Or, if I didn’t, now was the time to make myself great.

The next day, I shared with RQ a sketchy bijection that I had constructed. He pointed out a few worrisome holes. Fair. And so I left it in the back of my head. On Tuesday, I shared a geometry problem with RQ (since he primarily loved geometry) which Luke Robitaille had presented in his Good Ideas class the previous day, in the red classroom, that utilized a concept new to me called “moving points.” Near the end of class, I asked him if he wanted the solution. No, he didn’t! So I smirked and waited for the next day, knowing that neither of us had even heard of moving points before, so no way was he finding the only solution I knew of. The day after that, I spent two classes tempting him again, dangling the solution in front of him. But, with a will of steel, the boy wouldn’t budge! In the end, we both brought our respective hills-to-die-on home with us, solutionless.

I had promised myself to try, though, as long as I had a glimmer of hope. So in the week following, I settled in my desk at home, wishing to be reminded of MOP, and poured my concentration into this puzzle of my own creation, that nobody cares about except me (and maybe RQ). A couple days, and… Eureka! Suddenly, like a flood of clarity, I realized it. But more than that, I felt it. Before, I had learned about the Catalan numbers on multiple occasions and subsequently forgot everything. But this time, riding my thrill, as I explored beyond the confines of my original problem, I felt like I knew the Catalan numbers. No, I didn’t feel like I learned them, I felt like I made them. From this point, like a springboard, a new passion for math overtook me. I had never, never, willingly stayed up past 1 am for as many years as I can remember, and yet… for the next week I was so greedy until 1:30, 2, 3 in the morning, frantically coursing through Wikipedia, beginning from the Catalan numbers and branching outwards. Stirling’s approximation, Bernoulli numbers, gamma function, complex analysis––I loved it all, scary like I never loved it before.

Only a few days later, RQ messaged me on Discord with his own solution to that geometry problem posed two weeks prior. I read through his work––I was in awe, the steps were so numerous and unexpected.

So in retrospect, I say: learning competition math is about really delving deeply into a problem, exploring paths of thought, and at the end taking precious time to reflect on what you learn. Because that’s where the learning happens! Not in the moment you solve it, or read the solution, but in the moments where you make a way through the weeds (even if it ends in a dead end) and the moments where you step back and examine what you did. And for so long in my life I had taken a seat, flipped open a book of math problems, and measured my productivity by number of problems solved per hour. But that’s not how it works! I had cheated myself of so much to learn, because in trying to maximize the number of problems solved, I forgot the true goal: to maximize the amount learned. So in this way I lost great potential, and now I pass the lesson to the younger readers among you.



At MOP I also suspected that I had lost great potential in setting aside my curiosity. I had fallen into rigid habits, I feared, and forgotten to open my mind, to accept the natural inquiry and enthusiasm of a child. I say this particularly regarding geometry.

Last year, out of jest and love for fun, I decided to call the freshmen at my school “gremlins.” Small and trouble-causing. Of course, I did not actually believe anything was wrong about the freshmen. After a few weeks, however, the term began to sink in. I spoke the word “gremlin” and, for the first time, noticed a barely disparaging spirit flickering in my heart––appalled, I never uttered that name again.

I worry for the same phenomenon among competition math circles. There is a widespread consensus, of “I hate geometry” or, more succintly, “geo bad.” Depending on how long you’ve been surrounded by combinatorics mains, it’s almost a meme, which you repeat for years. It’s funny, to all agree to bash one thing! But, is geo bad, really? I didn’t find geometry particularly thrilling, before MOP, but now I wonder how my mindset might have been changed if I didn’t tell myself, however lightly, that I dislike geometry or I’m terrible at it. (Perhaps a similar point can also be made, here, about self-depracating jokes, although I will leave that topic for others to discuss.) I will not go so far as saying, “combo toxic,” since these sorts of jests are certainly common and fun, but perhaps a “combo be careful” is warranted.

Against these attacks, the geometry faction (a delightful phrase) must hold its own defense, and here a dichotomy develops. Geometry versus combinatorics. In jocularly competitive fervor, we stick staunch with our side, and our identity risks becoming attached to one faction or the other. A combo main should not be alarmed at becoming a geo main, nor vice versa! It means you are improving your weaknesses! Though not everyone will relate, I hope you who do will listen.



So in fact, allow me to touch on the subject of choosing one’s company. We like to imagine we exist independent of the world around us, but I believe this is a false hope. We are inevitably influenced by those we surround ourselves with, and those we hold close. In some cases, this influence is an admittance to a certain set of benign inside jokes. In some cases, this influence is harmful, pulls you backwards. But in many cases (especially noteworthy at MOP, but present everywhere frequently), this influence is inspiration. A collective energy which adopts you, makes you its own. Fills you, shows a new path and urges you forward. (I shall also vouch for dogs as company, then, since they are always happy and pure when you are around them and it is a precious way to approach things.)

So in a community, we all urge each other on. The body grows more of itself. At MOP, I was astonished by the craziness of MOPpers to suggest random projects of their own initiative, and as if it were nothing, to just do it. ELMO, Revenge ELMO, panel, skits and performances, superlatives, the yearbook, portrait guessing, the vlog, personality guessing, perMOOt, puzzle hunt, live-action mafia; MOPpers have crazy huge ideas and the ridiculous resolution to believe they can be done, and the vision to hold that resolution close to our hearts, not when the way ahead is easy, but when it is grueling. We’re the last ones to say, “I give up.” We’re the last ones to say, “Maybe I don’t need to do this after all.” We keep going, we believe we can do what we want to be done—that is what brought us here, and what will push us further more.

Certainly, this is not a trait unique to MOPpers. My closest friend at school, HW, carries this spontaneity and creativity which never ceases to astonish, which I admire so immensely. Yet at MOP, it was not a trait of any one specific person. We came together, and formed an atmosphere that said, “Even if it seems like it’s destined for failure, give it your shot. Find out what you’re capable of.”



Try it, even if it fails. Try it, even if you’re not sure, especially if you’re not sure, because you can always back out later but if you don’t put a toe in, you’ll never know what treasures you missed.

I pushed myself to be so energetic there that when I got home I was completely worn out. But during my time there, I didn’t feel like I was pushing myself. I didn’t feel worn out. I felt invincible, I could’ve gone forever. Because living life to the fullest is, fundamentally, an exciting endeavor. I don’t care if I suck at dancing. I don’t care if my note is off or weak.

Try new things! Try everything! Because the cost of quitting is low, but the benefit of joining can be anything. Try everything, because you don’t know what you don’t know. Try everything, because you have no idea what new things you will learn, who you will meet. Try everything, and wonder at new people who you now understand. Try everything, because novelty makes the time feel longer, and maybe the secret to longevity (in a sense, from your own perspective) is just a rejection of routine. Try everything, because you don’t know what you’re capable of. Try everything, give life that extra flavor, because there is so much to discover that is fun.



Today marks exactly two months passed from the final full day at MOP. School begins, summer fades. I imagine a new era begins for each of us, every fall. New worries, new preoccupations, new commitments. I’ll see you on the other side, my friends. How am I so confident of this fact? I will make it true. I’ll see you on the other side.



“Let your mind start a journey though a strange new world.”
“It's time to see what I can do / To test the limits and break through.”
“And when they let you down / You'll get up off the ground”
“Don't you know there's part of me / That longs to go / Into the unknown?”
“'Til I try, I'll never know!”
“Oh a million dreams for the world we're gonna make.”

Act 2: Diary

For MOP I did have one hope, a little shimmering prayer I nearly didn’t dare to dream. I hoped that MOP would make me love math again. Over my years, a festering obsession with performance on the AMCs and AIMEs––one which I forced upon myself, which was thrilling at the start but, as my own skills improved and ambition became expectation, only degenerated into a rote stress––this obsession turned to annoyance turned to disillusionment. (But the story in its entirety is a tale for another time.) Like most things, my wildest hopes at MOP were utterly surpassed by reality. Math is so wildly beautiful here. I love it, I crave it more than I ever have craved it. When I realize I have little time in the summer left for math, an unsatisfied hole aches in my heart, and I know I need it. The ache comes as alien as an old friend, who one hasn’t contacted for years but would welcome into their home anyday. In regards to mathematics, MOP has transformed who I am.

But to say that MOP is relevant only in a mathematical sense invites a sort of dichotomy, between the wholly reasonable expectation because MOP is a math camp that of course this is true, and a stubborn denial from my end (imagine it accompanied by a smirk) that no claim is more deceptive and further from truth. At MOP, I learned how to ask interesting questions, how to interrogate strangers until they become friends (thanks, LZ). I have learned to strive for deep conversation, interesting conversation, with a new perceptiveness that even now I grapple with in my attempts to incorporate it into life. I learned to comfort people, and to accept comfort (RQ). I am more confident with personal confessions now because LC taught me first, and MK taught me next. I learned to pay a little more attention to not make people uncomfortable. After a decade of solid introversion, I have rebuilt myself as an extrovert or, at least, more sociable, because I have learned that it is worth being (LZ, SL). Maturity can be taught, and maturity can be learned, from everyone I met and knew. Underpinning it all, I have left this place more confident than I entered; it’s not a confidence like a delusion of superiority, but rather a confidence like a trust in myself, a comfort in my role as I navigate the world. In ways like these, I see myself and marvel at how MOP––or rather, my friends at MOP––have undeniably shaped my character.

But MOP has also transformed me in regards to the mundane. I now take more photos, more selfies (LZ). Better photos (RQ), better selfies (LZ). I’m no good at singing or dancing, but…no one can take away just how fun it is. I’ve learned how to text more engagingly (LZ), and I’ve facepalmed at my lack of outfit style. Every single one of my friends had some role to play in finally, finally defeating my chocolate milk obsession (replaced now with an uncharacteristic fondness for boba). I learned to love rollercoasters, because IZ really loved rollercoasters. Here is Po’s greatest imprint on me: I have picked up good posture, and that dang iconic speedwalk. Much more frequently now, I pick up public trash as I walk past it, because SL showed that it could be done. I have eaten more fruit in the last two months than a year before, because I have seen SL’s habits and said, “This is how I want to be.” My perspective on college twirled upside-down (twice!) after hearing Po, VT, SL. I used to be allergic to wearing shorts, but few days of Pittsburgh weather were needed to convince me otherwise. I have no idea how my life changed so quickly, so unexpectedly (past me would be dumbstruck), but I have a blog now! LZ, what have you done to me? But most palpable and precious of all is a new circle of friends, who even now I am in regular contact with. As long as I care about all of you, and you all care about me, MOP 2022 never ends.

To list these points brings me euphoria. I have become closer to the type of person I want to be. I have grown in ways I never predicted––indeed, my friends have taught me things I never thought of before. But that alone is a mentor, undoubtedly valuable, whose power I believe is still surpassed by a role model. A role model shows you what is possible, challenges your assumptions on the very limits of human nature. Inspires you, motivates you, because now that you know your efforts are not in vain, who would not strive even more relentlessly? We live in a world of role models. MOP was a world of role models.



Here at MOP, I swore I would live life to the the fullest. To the fullest in the classes, steering my own experience, passing food around because what could be a more ancient human activity to partake in, moving classrooms because this is my one chance at MOP and I want to hear LR teach, I want to escape the blizzard of screeching from that side of the green classroom. Why should I be afraid to wait? To the fullest in the laughter-soaked dining halls; to the fullest in the testing room, just playing with ideas until 4.5 hours passes like 1; to the fullest at Kennywood, singing troupe, dance, late nights wrung out for every precious minute; my three weeks were tinted with the memory of pushing myself forward. Here, I learned what it means to “live life to the fullest.” It is the ultimate mantra; it is impossible. It is a prize always tantalizingly close, always out of reach. It was a commitment to failure worth every drop of energy.

This pervasive eagerness traces each minute lost, every opportunity missed. There were some people I wish I had talked to more, or known on a deeper level. Some things I shouldn’t have said, or done. Games I missed, activities I forgot, nights slept far too early. At Kennywood, I never did buy myself Dippin’ Dots. Maybe I should have joined the water ride. But it is already a blessing, I should think, that I can count my regrets on my fingers.



MOP is freeing. This is an aspect of most camps, I would guess, that provide plentiful free time with little responsibility to take its place. No regimented tasks, scrambles over due dates, regular appointments for this obligatory slog or that. MOP is freeing in that I am responsible only for myself here—that’s why, I think, we could all build ourselves as people. The stories abound; I am not special! We all leave here transformed, improved.

The days following MOP (weeks, if I am to be honest), uncertainties churned in my head. Fears about friendship, about the future, about myself. Among these questions were these: how do I not fall back into old habits? It was a dread that my MOP self would stay at MOP, in the memory halls of CMU, while I resumed living like old me, in old San Diego, as if MOP were just a pause button in the pattern of my former existence. Each time I saw MOP shine through me, each time a friend or family member remarked, “You definitely changed at MOP,” I felt a wave of relief because maybe, just maybe, I can at least hold on to myself. Even now I grapple with it, although perhaps now, two months later, I am more capable of a firm response: I have kept some of my lessons. If this semi-victory is all I am allotted––and I know it is true, because of how hard I’ve fought––it must be enough. Or so I say, to convince myself.

School has begun already. Everyday, I am immersed in a familiar world, an old world anchored in 2019. But I explore with new eyes and discover that some of what I attributed to the “magic of MOP” still remains around me. Sharing food, chasing each other around, wandering anywhere with each other and taking in that extra minute––the commonplace magic is commonplace! How much of that perfection at MOP was truly born there, and how much was a product of fresh, eager anticipation? Of personal commitment to make the experience perfect? In a way, I want it to be the former––I want MOP to be special like I consecrate it to be, like memory promises. But I also wish it to be the latter, because it brings an assurance that I have the power to keep the magic alive when MOP is no longer. A promise that I know how to enjoy life more; I just have to open my mind and commit to every second, again. It’s certainly a combination of both.

Still now, the classes come and go like clockwork, almost in denial of summer, a stark divide from MOP’s perpetual bliss. Pittsburgh, once an excruciating nostalgia, now haunts me like an aftertaste. I confront another question, which tormented me in those emptiest days (or honestly, weeks). How can I go back to normal life? I don’t know. I think I am just taking what comes, as I always have. I forget enough to be happy.

Act 1: Eulogy

I have heard stories from people who built up a mental image of what MOP would be, and who came and lived and threw away their earlier dream. Life at MOP shattered their fundamental preconceptions of what this camp could be, surprising with a sideways remarkableness. That was not me. Frankly, before MOP, I didn’t think about it much at all.

If you found me, two months ago, sitting alone beneath a chandelier too dim for productive work, face illuminated by a tab open to an email titled, “Your Invitation to MOP 2022!” and you asked me what in the world I was so excited for, what would I say? I would say, it’s MOP, of course. An accolade for the most accomplished competition math students in the nation. A chance to rub shoulders with the likes of Luke Robitaille, to banter with the IMO team, to mingle with giants. It was the gift of a prize which I had, years ago, relegated to the hazy realm of daydream. A prize I did not deserve. I was pleased with the name, of course. To say “I’ve made MOP,” imagine that!
So that was MOP to me. Three weeks of fortune. But in the substance of MOP, I had placed little hope. I had not arranged for three weeks of my June to disappear at CMU, nor had I arranged for another intense round of competition math that I had long been eager to retire from. Here is what I had arranged: my own work to immerse myself in, with the previously-assumed serendipity of a vacant summer.

I shake my head and smile at what a fool I was.

I learned very quickly at MOP that my paltry worries of the “most prestigious competition math camp in the U.S.” wasting my time were, fortunately, wildly misguided. I looked for legends and, instead, found people and friends. I looked for intense training and found a schedule gracious in free-time and classes which aimed less at teaching you math, and more so at revealing its beauty. I looked for aloof brilliance and found, around me, people who I could relate to. People who I could play frisbee with, who I would join to goof around, take far-too-frequent boba trips, who sang and danced and played cards but knew when to take a solemn talk. As I immersed myself in this unique, remarkable world, I no longer cared to say, “Can I have your autograph,” but only harbored this miraculous longing to blurt out, “Repuation is a lie, because you’re so much more than your name. You, too, get exhilarated over jokes and you are insecure sometimes and you hope to find a place here, and I love how human you are.”

I feared I would be the dumbest person at MOP, and yet, I realized I no longer cared. Huddled around the pool table as chants raise the suspence, or racing to lunch in Pittsburgh sweat while footsteps’ echos adorn my trail, I let myself forget about the pecking order because, we’re all stuck here now, what does any of it matter anymore? We were tied together by the unique culture that we constructed. Through the songs, relentless applause, the “I lost the game”s, the inside jokes and games, clowning on Resnik food for the five hundredth time because at this point it’s not even about the food quality anymore, it’s about us being us, friends being friends. It felt like community.

That’s it. MOP isn’t about math, not in the slightest. Because back here, at home, a month later, I cannot recite a single mathematical nugget that I have learned there. The abyss of my memory is locked, pertaining to these things. When I reach into it, think back to MOP classes, I am not met with pictures of equations, but images of faces. I remember sitting in a circle on the first day, wondering what all of these people will mean to me as I join nervously in laughter. I remember IZ flipping pens with me, who I could laugh at in the beginning each time she dropped them as often as they were thrown, but by three weeks’ end had become proficient in both hands. I remember how she always dug out of her backpack pockets a pack of fruit snacks, shaking them over my hands and RQ’s, so that we could all eat the candy together. In the hallways, I remember her devilish grin as she once again darted away grasping my water bottle in her hand, a treasure (to my surprise, but we all went along with it) of infinite worth. I remember MK baiting me with a fist bump before, in the highest form of betrayal, switching her fist into an open palm (turkey) or horizontal peace sign (snail). I remember doing the snail at the same time to each other. I remember her obsessively pushing my fork down when I stab it vertically in my food, and I remember re-erecting the utensil each time out of friendly spite. I remember when it was just us singing, “Do You Want To Build A Snowman?” When everyone else applauded furiously and she looked like death. When we took pictures of Milan and doodled. I remember VT greeting me every morning with the sound of a Rubik’s Cube, and every midnight with, “I can do the Wordle for tomorrow!” or twisting his arms behind his back or his fingers together with alien flexibility. I remember LC, the soul of late-night conversations, so refreshingly open about his personal life. I remember SL and I facing each other, performing increasingly exaggerated shrugs in unison for three beats, maybe four or, if we were feeling exceptionally noodle-like, five. How we patted each other’s heads, running around, the dancer who was in singing troupe, so always bouncily cheerful that I couldn’t help but join along. I remember LZ taking photos every other minute, pointing out my face in all of them, random vlogs and selfies and questions and whooooooooooos to fill up the silence. I remember RQ doing spontaneous motions with me and randomly breaking into song, saying the funniest things with a straight face, patting my back when I needed him there even when I didn’t say anything, being my confidant and partner in growth, sharing his life with me and my life with him.

MOP felt right. These were the best three weeks of my life, and by the end I couldn’t stand leaving because it felt like home. And, I felt like myself. Here, I found my people. I was a better me.



MOP 2022 was a year of firsts. It was the first year after two trials online in 2020 and 2021. The first year in forever when everyone was, in a sense, new. Everyone getting lost together on the way to class, complaining about food, exploring the landscape, because even those who were here virtually had never lived here physically. For many people, MOP 2022 was their first residential math camp ever, and for the rest it was still a peak of joy long denied, like being tossed around in underwater currents and at last, at last, coming up for air for the first time in years. Our year saw the very first MOP vlog! In a way, MOP 2022 was objectively special.

But MOP was also a more mundane sort of special, a special that can recur every summer, because how miraculous is that! Special because it is precious, because it touches one’s heart and leaves a permanent imprint that says, “I was here once, I lived, I truly lived.” Precious like friendship, a treasure so overwhelmingly indescribable yet so everywhere, and once that awareness wraps around your head… can you call it anything else but a miracle? Perhaps these mundane specials, these commonplace everywhere specials––they mean more in the end.

And so I say to myself, and I remember thinking that every minute of horrible agonizing repetition to make it through the AMCs this year without sillies, to reach for my last chance on the AIME this year, it was all worth it. And I remember the Pittsburgh airport as I left, hugging RQ one more time. The hugs on the last day that came in mounds, but never enough. The sunrise, the all-nighter. Those premature tears. The walk to Squirrel Hill with SL and CH, the gentle interrogation, this and all other memories which seem like both forever and an instant. Singing in the middle of nothing, singing because we can, pouring out our hearts like creeks into a river as “Another Day of Sun” echoes around the walls of my mind. A circle in Stever lobby, pouring out our hearts in the center like a betting pool, choosing to trust. I remember LC there. I remember MK, RQ, LZ, DD, MR. I remember seeing JC serious and genuine, how nonchalantly he tried to play it, but I loved all that he said. I remember the first time I talked back to LZ, and MK and IZ gaped in shock as they told me what I already feared: you’re not recovering from that mistake. I remember the 64-combination photoshoot. I remember the first time RQ, IZ, and I sat together during class, because we chose each other. I remember seeing RQ in the Stever lobby, barely recognizing him without his hat, shouting excitedly impulsively at the ping-pong table nearby, “Guys, this is RQ!” I remember walking out of Resnik and joining VT, LZ, MK, and IZ in a group, wandering over a balcony, how I once knew nothing about LZ except that she liked purple and “aesthetic scenes.” I remember Day 1 of classes, working in a roomful of strangers, assessing everyone I met and wondering where fate would shove me next. I remember orientation, I remember seeing VT and his parents in the dorm, being so silently excited because this is my roommate! And walking into a boba shop the day before, not realizing DL, EL, and I just crashed a Pre-MOP party, so giddy trying and failing to learn everyone’s names on too little hours of sleep, but if anything, knowing LZ, IZ, MK, in that order, before they permuted themselves and confused me all over again. I remember calling LZ Laurel, explosions of exasperation set off at a mistake (apparently) of unprecedented gravity. I remember looking at pictures sent before MOP, learning the faces of AZ, RQ, DD, LT, in that order. I remember gushing to all my friends for two hours on May 5 that “I MADE MOP!” I remember spotting the email subject and screaming.

So here is what I remember: people. I have met the most remarkable unique and lovely people here. You were exhilarating, wholesome, funny, solemn, lively, trusting, kind. Role models. Confidants. Supporters. Teachers. Unforgettable friends. I grieve for every detail about MOP, about you, that exits my mind forever, because it is only temporary that memory is so much fuller than photo. And someday, someday, I will browse through our records and know what a lie it all is, a hollow simulacrum, and not recall why.

But not yet.

These have been three weeks of paradise, and when I returned I left a piece of my heart there. MOP fills you up and rips it all away, just as abruptly, leaving an empty hole. It’s cruel, and I’d take it a million times again. So please think of me, every once in a while, and know the mark you left.

IZ left first.

Before IZ left, we took a group picture (except SL, who we couldn’t find), then took a second one where we all took my pose, squatting, leaning a little, holding up two peace signs. On the lawn outside Stever, we performed final cartwheels.

Then, we all lied down in the meditation room and talked. I don’t remember what we talked about––I was too tired for that. But it was a good conversation, I’m sure of it. I only recorded in my notes, because I thought it funny, that SL said “I’m not really tired at all” before proceeding to the statement, “I feel like a cat.”

DL the younger and VL the younger gave us many cute gifts, like a paper dolphin, a paper fox, a nice card, and a paper airplane.

Then VT left, and we all took group pictures and had group hugs. In the center, there were two. Then from all sides, more piled on like layers to an onion, outstretched arms spanning wide, faces down, eyes closed. By the end, a huge group stood in a circle, a pile, and we rested in the comfort of each other for a minute that felt like an hour.

Everyone had so many hugs that day. DL said his number of hugs reached three digits. SL said she’d hugged more today than ever before in her life. I myself don’t think I’ve ever had this sort of group hug before, it’s different. When everyone squeezes in, each layer of people is new beautiful compassion. There’s this sort of understanding between everybody that we all care about each other very much, and the person most in need gets squeezed in the middle and, for now, gets to be comforted most of all.

Then SL left, and we did it all again.

Through it all, we would spontaneously sing singing troupe songs. One of us would hum it, quietly like a prayer, or a memorial of our little eternities. Then a second voice would join, and a third. It would take us all. It would bloom, rise in confidence, lacing our souls together in the way only songs can.

Around noon, I walked to get sushi with the remaining TJs: LC, LZ, MK, RQ. We stepped into the restaurant and there, in the far table, sat VT with his parents and sister! “VT!” everyone cheered. We promptly ordered our meals and sat together. The conversation turned to the topic of an “RQ moment”–– a term we coined to describe anything that happened which was very iconic and very unique to RQ. Upon losing yet another personal object, or when RQ repeated word-for-word a suggestion that someone had made just 3 seconds prior, or eating really really slowly, everyone would say “RQ moment ”. In retrospect, I think it beautifully poetic that in our great last surprise conversation, we spend our time to come up with other “moments” for everyone else in TJ too.

A DX moment was saying something incredibly sus, or doing the pose. VT moment was accidentally saying something really sus. MK moment was tripping on flat ground and then cursing, or grabbing sweets from Resnik and scurrying away like a guilty mouse. LZ moment was, well… “Wooooooo spicy slay kween bestie what’s your love life?” LC moment was saying “it’ll be fine” a million times, or “oh no I accidentally made MOP/TST Group/IMO.” IZ moment was breaking rules and getting away with it, or stealing my water bottle. And her mischievous smile, when she brings that out you know she’s ready. SL moment was, while everyone else is tired and dead, going “da da da da” with a random dance move.

As I write this blog, I am forced to confront the agnoizing truth that memories are not people. I am lucky that I have inscribed these pieces of people, set them immortalized into words, yet by now I have long forgotten much of the rest.

Then LC left, and we all had so many long hugs together.

Then MK and LZ left together, and we all had so many long hugs together.

And at last remained me and RQ. It seemed suddenly so eerily empty. And as I, for the final time, stepped out the Stever door and gazed at the bare lobby and RQ waving me off, I don’t think I truly grasped at the moment what that meant. I couldn’t.

So I just joined DL and AG, and we left for the airport.

Everywhere, everything, reminded me of MOP. At the airport, I thought out of the corner of my eye I caught MR, only when I looked for more than a moment he was only a stranger. I noticed a figure who looked like RQ, and was struck with heartache. A passerby’s “yeah!” made me believe SL was there. Two girls running side-by-side looked like MK and LZ.

So there we took our time.

After passing security, DL, AG, and I stood on an airport moving walkway when, outside the walkway, ahead of us and walking in the opposite direction, a bunch of teenagers start shouting and waving at us.

MOPpers!!

“RQ!!!” I shouted.

I felt paralyzed, trapped, stuck waving behind a barrier. Here, we’ll meet you at the end of the walkway, some of them said as they begin retracing their path. By then, they were nearly next to us, only we were on a giant human conveyor belt going one way, and they were on the normal floor walking the other.

Screw it.

I threw my backpack over the railing. Before I knew it, I placed a hand on it, tested its sturdiness, and vaulted over, throwing myself at RQ in an embrace, swinging him in circles until I couldn’t keep up the momentum anymore.

I looked back, and AG and DL had vaulted over too.

We celebrated together (obviously!) as we joined RQ, DD, RW, AG, and CB. At this point we all decided to get dinner.

RQ spotted a couple eating takeout which seemed like… Asian food. Delicious! I spotted a stuffed seal sitting very alone on a nearby table, at which point I decided that it was cute so if nobody came back for it in like 20 minutes, I’d conclude it’s lost and I would take it.

Anyways, we asked the couple to directions to the Asian food, then got back to snatch the seal and join the others to eat.

So we appreciated the gift of this extra hour, how precious it could be. At last it ended, and as I boarded my flight I bid RQ farewell, and that was truly the end.

Upon arriving in LAX, AG left with his dad, while DL and I carpooled back to San Diego. Despite having just pulled an all-nighter, I felt invincible. I swore I had the energy to pull a second one in a row! Then on the car I passed out on DL’s shoulder for two hours.

Except I didn’t know my head was on DL’s shoulder cause I was dead asleep, and so DL is very nice and sweet.

I later learned that my stuffed seal was actually a manatee. I named him "Rico."

At home, I ate a brownie and thought of MK.

A few days ago, TJ gang settled on watching The Hunger Games movie sometime during the all-nighter. I was excited because I’d read the books a long time ago but never experienced the movies, and in addition I had recently read The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes which got me curious about the universe again. We decided that we could save the movie for later, though, at a time later in the night (later in the morning?) when we’re sufficiently dead. For now, we should enjoy our time with each other.

Anyways, the first thing I did during the all-nighter was go downstairs where I met RQ. I told him about how I couldn’t make myself cry, because of coffee-and-sleepiness-induced numbness. (Which was mildly frustrating, but not even significantly frustrating, because of the numbness. Which was mildly annoying.) He comforted me about that.

So then we wandered around the lobby until RQ looked down and found…

A sock!

He said he lost a sock a few days ago during laundry, and didn’t know where it was! But the whole time it had been on the Stever lobby floor next to where the graded tests are stacked, apparently? Yay?!

Then I briefly played some table tennis with FY and made a deal with DeL where we’d call out each other’s bad posture in the future. See, both of us had bad posture at the beginning of MOP but were inspired to walk more confidently by the master of walking himself, Po-Shen Loh.

And then I did some “talk.” I don’t actually remember who I talked with, or what we talked about. My notes are a little vague about this.

And then I found SL. It turns out, SL had never had coffee before in her life, so she’s trying it out for the first time using a cold Starbucks Frappuccino from the vending machine. We filmed her for her vlog, except the coffee didn’t really do anything because it’s like entirely sugar, and SL doesn’t need caffeine anyways.

Two staff members announced that they were taking everyone out on a walk to Doherty, so like half the camp (30ish people) joined. SL and I followed the adults to Doherty, although at that point the group size had diminished to about 15, since half of us just mysteriously disappeared somewhere else I guess.

Anyways, SL and I thought that we’d stay in here out of curiosity, because maybe we all gathered together in front of the blackboards in the testing room for a fun game, right? We also briefly discussed playing sardines in the spooky many-floored maze that is Doherty, at 2 am in the morning. Because that sounds totally safe and OK.

LR then started explaining a solution to IMO 2021/2, at which point SL and I collectively decided to nope outta there because math. (No disrespect to LR or mathematics––I like you both––but I really preferred to spend the last day of my last MOP socializing.)

So, out of Doherty we stroll. It was like 3 am by this point, and the sprinklers went off very noticeably. At the sight, SL, with characteristic unfathomable energy, had the truly brilliant idea of running through the sprinklers, in the very cold and sun-less night, while I just walked slowly behind like “bruh lmao” and laughed.

We arrived at the track outside Resnik, where we found the people who had disappeared earlier, including the rest of TJ gang (except VT, who chose to sleep). People were racing around the track, so I joined and did ok. Turns out I can sprint, but my endurance needs great improvement. It was fun though, and a good way to keep energy levels up. I also thought there was something beautifully surreal and strange about the scene: a bunch of math kids racing at 3 am because we’re willing to do anything as long as it’s with each other, because it’s our last hours here and every minute matters and if we haven’t tired ourselves out before then, we’ve let our energy go to waste. Honestly, most all-nighter social activities have this aura.

Anyways, after a bit of that, LR and the other Doherty MOPpers found us here too.

During the talent show, we couldn’t sing Let It Go because we ran out of time, so a few of us decided we’d sing it now. Soon, everyone was joining, because everyone loves singing and being part of a greater whole. Everyone got energized from the song, so we sang some bits and pieces of other songs too. Some people sang Dem Deer, which is a MOP meme that I felt behind the curve on. I tried to sing along quietly, but I didn’t actually know the lyrics.

We went back to Stever, where RQ, SL, and I talked about our dream careers and approach to money, which we had become more uncertain about after hearing Po talk about his philosophy.

Holden set up his electric piano in the Stever lobby, which obviously means… impromptu singing troupe! Everyone gathered around and we sang for a long time, with songs such as Let It Go, How Far I’ll Go, Think of Me, and Memory. At the end of Memory, we were all in a big group hug. IZ dragged 3 chairs in a row and lay down to nap, but even she had to wake up and vibe to the excitement of Another Day of Sun. Many of us teared up during other songs, and we had a lot of big group hugs.

At 5 AM, we all decided to go on another walk to go watch the sunrise. LC, LZ, SL, RQ, and I walked slowly behind the main group. We got to a T-intersection, at which point we looked up and realized that we had no idea where the main group was. We tried contacting them, but nothing went through. At last, we decided “Welp let’s go left and hope it works! 50% chance, right?”

Hey, that hill looks promising! I mean, you gotta be on hills to have a clear view of the horizon, right? And grass is always welcoming.

As we walked further and further into what turned out to be a golf course, we slowly came to the realization that we were not going to find the main group, and we were not going to get an unblocked view of the sunrise. But the field was incredible, there was so much grass! And we got to see half a sunrise, and the layers of the sky were very pretty. So obviously we took a bunch of pictures.

I also kept accidentally calling it a “sunset” because I never wake up early enough to experience sunrises so I’m not used to sunrises existing.

We realized that, if we were lost, we might as well take full advantage of that and get bagels for breakfast very far from campus because we’re “oh so lost” and not all the way out here of our own volition, no no no! So we told Holden, and he was either too friendly or too dead but he was totally chill with it.

We walked a long way to Squirrel Hill to get bagels for breakfast. At the bagel place, the lady working there had this huge necklace that I was far too sleepy to notice until, out of nowhere, SL blurted, “I love your necklace!” The lady didn’t seem to hear it at first, so SL repeated it multiple times, until finally she noticed and responded with thanks. SL is actually so sweet, to be able to randomly give strangers compliments like that. The lady didn’t give off any huge display of happiness after that, but I’m sure it really brightened her day. She must’ve been really warm on the inside. SL also complimented LZ’s necklace too!

Outside, the weather was nothing if not cold. My legs were unimaginably sore, and for some reason my arms were sore too. We sat on familiar steps, ate tiredly, and walked back. The entire experience of “watching the sunset” had ended up turning into 3 hours of near-constant walking and talking. Apparently, I was horribly tired at 9 pm last night, but I only became more and more energetic as the all-nighter progressed.

On the return trip, we climbed the pedestal that we had also climbed the other day, during the photoshoot. Except this time, SL joined. SL has a really…creative way of climbing the pedestal. Whereas everyone else straightens their arms on a ledge to push themselves up, like that one picture of Ariel on a rock, before throwing one leg over, SL instead puts her forearms on the ledge and then…scurries up the vertical rock wall by kicking her feet really fast. Just…how the heck does this even work?

By then, the sun had already risen high into the sky. As much as the day still felt like Tuesday, as much as we wanted it to be true, that was it.

We never did watch any movie, and I think there is no more marvelous sign I can explicitly point to than this to say, "This shows how the night was a success." Not one minute wasted in an activity that could be performed alone.

We cannot defeat the passing of time, but we have fought it well. Now, we can only rest and wait. Wait for the agony which does not seem real. The fate for which we cannot prepare ourselves. We grasp at the present, try against the limits of our sleep-hungry brains to not forget the moment, because that is all we can do.

And we hope that is enough.