The three most important leadership characteristics that I possess are my commitment to reaching the final stretch, the ability to persevere, and the ability to assert my thoughts. I have found these principles to be integral to how I express myself in my interactions with others and my journey to achieving my goals. My first leadership characteristic is being able to pull my peers together and focus on the goal at hand. I have never thought of myself as a natural-born leader– the farthest thing from it. Yet if the deadline approaches, I find myself doing what I can to make it happen. Though I have never seen myself as a natural-born leader I understand the weight of taking on the mantle of putting everyone to work in my game development company. I could never see myself as a natural-born leader working behind the backs of others, supporting and trusting in the decisions of my fellow officers in leadership and clubs. I am content in playing my part for the sake of a greater picture. I thought of a leader as an idea, rather than something I could be. Rather than “limiting” leadership to people born to lead – I believe anyone can become a leader. Being a leader takes the discipline to carry yourself with virtue after hard work. Though I have never seen myself as a natural-born leader, I will become one. My second leadership characteristic is my ability to persevere. Things aren't meant to stay the same; wither; or die so we have to change with the flow of which the world works. In the case of my game development company, I worked hard to push past deadlines and hammer every project into a success. Similarly, I cannot stand on the sidelines and allow time to slip through our fingers like grains of sand. I know it sounds dramatic yet my euphemism has weight to it. Every person that I have met has contributed to who I am. After all, time refuses to idle and so if we do not choose to lead, someone will always have to sacrifice something. My third leadership characteristic is the ability to assert myself. First and foremost, in my classes, I often made the effort to bridge gaps in communication between members by setting up times to meet after school or group chats for ideas to be exchanged. In swimming relays, this kind of communication mattered just as much. When I made my intentions clear to others, I noticed a significant change for my teammates in how they felt safer communicating their needs. I have learned something from the recording of all of my experiences working as a leader. Just as important as leaders are to help lead others, the reverse is true; leaders cannot do the things they need to do without the support of others. So many of our modern technological advancements build on the past and collective knowledge of others. Subsequently, the same is true for leaders. Leaders are not born, they choose to lead.

My father once asked me why I learned– an unassuming question that, as I thought about it, pulled back all that I had to bear. There I was, sitting on jagged stone benches in a Buddhist pagoda temple as I watched him shed tears for the first time in my life. “I’m so glad that you learned Vietnamese.” I didn’t think much of Vietnamese at first, because for me, it meant extra work on the weekends trying to translate worksheets I couldn’t wrap my head around. Three years passed as I moved from one classroom to the next–sitting in spots where old classmates sat. In the third year of my Vietnamese education, if I failed again, I’d be ousted from school– but this year was different, instead of little kids I was surrounded by people my age. Being around classmates my age for the first time filled me with the change in environment I needed. Through an environment where I felt more inclined to do well, I did. It’s a wonder that little did I know, this obligation became a responsibility out of love. It was then that I understood a fundamental truth about the world that I lived in:an appreciation for Vietnamese was unorthodox. Vietnamese was the only thing that didn’t have a set of logic I could understand–yet an admiration bloomed for a language that stood tall as what it was, as though a refusal to be drowned out by the voices of the world. The common Vietnamese experience is coloured differently whether it boils down to Vietnamese-Californian, Vietnamese-American, or just Vietnamese. I know that no matter where I go, and no matter where they're from, if we speak the same language, if we eat the same food, if we understand the struggles that weathered the stone that is our culture, then I know I will never truly be alone. In the year of 2019 I declared a dedication to attaining my seal of biliteracy as I witnessed my classmates from both Vietnam and America bond. At first, I was taken aback from all these unlikely alliances, yet I saw how all the pretenses of being too different washed away. Even if it took four years of committing to a foreign language I was just beginning to call my own, I decided therefore I would work hard every day to continue understanding. I found a purpose in not just understanding but learning and hopefully giving back. I want to use my mastery of Vietnamese to remain a prominent member of the Vietnamese community. Even if it comes down to me advocating for my community or using the unique disposition I have in knowing both English and Vietnamese I will proudly wear the badges of both on my chest. As seasons blend, cultures syncretize, they coalesce into something not the same, just more. While I cannot expect myself to cling to tradition, I want to give tradition the respect it deserves for my own sake, for my legacy. I won't forget the rock that the Vietnamese community has been for me in storms and past all typhoons. “I’m so glad that I learned Vietnamese.”

My father once asked me why I learned– an unassuming question that, as I thought about it, pulled back all that I had to bear. There I was, sitting on jagged stone benches in a Buddhist pagoda temple as I watched him shed tears for the first time in my life. “I’m so glad that you learned Vietnamese.” I didn’t think much of Vietnamese at first, because for me, it meant extra work on the weekends trying to translate worksheets I couldn’t wrap my head around. Three years passed as I moved from one classroom to the next–sitting in spots where old classmates sat. In the third year of my Vietnamese education, if I failed again, I’d be ousted from school– but this year was different, instead of little kids I was surrounded by people my age. Being around classmates my age for the first time filled me with the change in environment I needed. Through an environment where I felt more inclined to do well, I did. It’s a wonder that little did I know, this obligation became a responsibility out of love. It was then that I understood a fundamental truth about the world that I lived in:an appreciation for Vietnamese was unorthodox. Vietnamese was the only thing that didn’t have a set of logic I could understand–yet an admiration bloomed for a language that stood tall as what it was, as though a refusal to be drowned out by the voices of the world. The common Vietnamese experience is coloured differently whether it boils down to Vietnamese-Californian, Vietnamese-American, or just Vietnamese. I know that no matter where I go, and no matter where they're from, if we speak the same language, if we eat the same food, if we understand the struggles that weathered the stone that is our culture, then I know I will never truly be alone. In the year of 2019 I declared a dedication to attaining my seal of biliteracy as I witnessed my classmates from both Vietnam and America bond. At first, I was taken aback from all these unlikely alliances, yet I saw how all the pretenses of being too different washed away. Even if it took four years of committing to a foreign language I was just beginning to call my own, I decided so therefore I would work hard everyday to continue understanding. I found a purpose in not just understanding but learning and hopefully giving back. I want to use my mastery of Vietnamese to remain a prominent member of the Vietnamese community. Even if it comes down to me advocating for my community or using the unique disposition I have in knowing both English and Vietnamese I will proudly wear the badges of both on my chest. As seasons blend, cultures syncretize, they coalesce into something not the same, just more. While I cannot expect myself to cling to tradition, I want to give tradition the respect it deserves for my own sake, for my legacy. I won't forget the rock that the Vietnamese community has been for me in storms and past all the typhoons. “I’m so glad that I learned Vietnamese.”

My greatest skill is the art of failure. I used to find it easier to give up on things that seemed impossible. I have always had a love for the water yet I was never a particularly good swimmer. Likewise, I struggled with calculus, yet I was stubborn. I learned how to swim at the age of 16, it was one summer in 2020. I had come across the opportunity perchance, through a friend of my father's. "Why are you so old?" I winced, expecting a wave of embarrassment to fall over my body. There it was, that sinking feeling that shook my spirit, my selfdom. I remember feeling like a giant who lagged behind people half his size. The wading of my arms in the water carried not only my body but the pressure that I was behind. As I swam, I found myself replaying the lessons in my mind to perfect my technique– yet a latency existed between my body and mind. This latency reminded me of how Calculus posed a struggle along every test regardless of how many revisions I did. I spent hours with tutors, seeking videos, and revising old tests. I continued to “swim”, refusing to “sink” for if I was the captain of a sinking ship I’d go down giving it all I had. My efforts alone were enough for me, not anyone else. Months of swimming everyday, for hours, passed by as if to make up for the time I “lost,” until I had achieved the fastest time that I had ever swam over a 50-meter distance three consecutive times. The unsure feeling of who I was, and about when the right time to learn seemed to wash away. Looking to my left, looking to my right, I was surrounded by grade schoolers. I’m reminded of my time at the local buddhist temple, learning Vietnamese and struggling. I was a fish out of water, flunking class after class merely driven by my motivation to communicate with my mother. In my third year, given a chance to be in a class with kids my age, I thrived amongst my peers ranking third. There will never be a perfect time to learn anything even if a voice perfectly tells you there is. No matter how far I sank, I learned the importance of returning to the surface. A sense of pride swelled in my chest as my arms shot up in the air. No matter how cold the pool is, I’ll return to the water again and again.

Flush. A cacophony of perfect efficiency sending waste down a network of pipes that stretch farther than the mind can think. No longer would man have to ponder the question of having to get rid of his waste. Thousands, if not millions of lives would be saved because of this simple invention. Indoor plumbing. With a simple flush and an even simpler monthly payment we, the people have access to one of the greatest inventions known to man;indoor plumbing. Though I never really got why my 7th grade social studies teacher was so hung up on the simple implementation to our daily life, I now see her vision. Indoor plumbing was an invention of the Romans with elegant aqueducts bringing fresh water. It was lost for centuries during the dark ages and the very plague that many experts claim to have ended it was caused by the infestation of rats who dwell amongst filth. While the exaggerated nature of the sanitary conditions and customs of those who lived during the era may not be completely accurate, there is some merit to the idea that keeping ourselves clean would prevent giant plagues. The issue is only so much more relevant now, as things such as face-touching and for lack of a better word, hand-washing reverse in the list of priorities for the normal person become ever so important during the pandemic. We need safe and clean ways to get rid of our excrement and indoor plumbing has consistently delivered. It may be shallow to think that long showers could actually save your life but hey, maybe a little luxury goes a long way?