28th November, 2033 Dear 2023 Osemudiame, Yesterday, I received my 4th patent on nano-biopolymers designed to optimize genomes, negating hereditary neurological disorders from the embryo. Yes! Using natural polymers turned out fine, as did your other breakthroughs in sustainable nano-neuro-medicine: you "increased life expectancy in Nigeria!" At present, you are probably seeking silver linings in the cloud of financial burdens on your family of eight (8). How will you survive through college now that Dad’s lost his job and the exchange rate has become more unfavorable? You may have begun underestimating yourself, which, though seemingly humble, is entirely unnecessary as soon, you will win the Hyacinth Malcolm Memorial Scholarship. Indeed, you are relatively inert, but like Argon, when put in an incandescent bulb, you sustain a positive ambiance, seeking similarities among differences. Upon stumbling on a WIRED article on Irish neurosurgeon Phil Kennedy, who — in an attempt to induce synthetic communication in ALS patients — hacked his brain and almost lost his mind, [y]our interest in neuro-engineering was catalyzed. I still laugh at the memory of dragging [y]our thirteen-year-old self out of bed the following day — having stayed up late — enthralled by the possibility of fusing Engineering with Medicine. Debating the ethical concerns with [y]our eighth-grade class, you discovered somewhat the focal point of [y]our diverging interests — restoration. From broken clocks' graduated displays serving as teaching aids on telling time for [y]our younger siblings and salvaged polymeric foams from appliances' packaging dissolved in petrol for homemade styrofoam shoe glue to boiling homegrown acalypha wilkesiana for [y]our cousin's dermatitis and nursing ailing Marcus with fresh guinea corn soaked in oral rehydration salts, [y]our "restorative" instincts spurred [y]our "junk aid" and "first aid" escapades. Perhaps doing these foreshadowed the recycling system you set up in high school as the Co-founder and Pioneer President of the Friends of Nature Club. Concurrently, you also started ornamental gardens in your community church as you desired to learn from nature's balancing acts: the nuances of ecosystems. You studied junior year Geography during the summer holiday and scored perfectly in the Geography GCSE the following spring. These, you at first considered divergence from your educational goals, but ultimately, 'earthcare' became pivotal in your career. Privileged to continue studying at NYU through the Hyacinth Malcolm Memorial Scholarship, you embraced ethical approaches and infused sustainable engineering initiatives in reverse engineering proteomes and genomes to combat Parkinson's, Alzheimer's, and other related neurodegenerative diseases. You kept your promise to [y]our grand-uncle who was afflicted with Parkinson's throughout the lifetime you shared with him. There are many more breakthroughs you have yet to make, and you can't do them if you do not continue schooling. Now is the time to keep holding on and tinkering with your junk-aid kit in your cabin as you sail these seas of financial burdens. With support from the Hyacinth Malcolm Memorial Scholarship, you pulled through your yet most challenging phase — you did not submit that withdrawal request. Seeking similarities among differences, you have and will get by as a junk optimizer: first as a Biomedical Engineer, now as a Geriatric Neurosurgeon. You won't believe the ethical possibilities of your maverick neuro-engineering ideas in the future — yet many incandescent light bulbs are awaiting you. Keep holding on! Sincerely, 2033 Osemudiame.

"CHECK THE DICTIONARY" Staring at me unapologetically while I doodled with my little orange pencil in my notebook, my father reiterated, "Check the dictionary." The clock chimed two hours to midnight, yet all attempts for him to define the dozen-and-one words in my fourth-grade vocabulary assignment proved futile. Dad believed they were mere combinations of alphabets, so I needed to roll up my sleeves. Now and then, when Dad insisted that my siblings and I peruse the dictionary for such answers, we always found them in there. I became accustomed and then looked forward to playing Scrabble on Saturday mornings and receiving encyclopedias and puzzles, not video games, as presents. Indifferently, then eagerly perusing these, I gradually understood that no solution was elusive. There is always an answer. But how do I find it? Growing up with my paternal family of philosophers, I learned to seek the rationale behind concepts. Playing ball games demanded spatial awareness and proprioception; drawing, my favorite pastime, insisted on continuing a dot across a blank paper. To even exist within my comfort zone, I desired to understand the underlying principles, as everything seemed to have one — its algorithm. If every seemingly new idea were a slight modification or yet-predictable application of a basic concept, wouldn't every challenge be surmountable once I grasped the algorithm? Was I running on an algorithm? Bird-watching or Rubix-cubing, I considered such possibilities, taking my brain on a wild joyride while appreciating [cyclical] problem-solving patterns. Developing an interest in neural processes, I stumbled upon a WIRED article on Irish neurosurgeon Phil Kennedy, who — in an attempt to induce synthetic communication in ALS patients — hacked his brain and almost lost his mind. Enthralled by the possibility of fusing a career in medicine with engineering, I recall dragging my thirteen-year-old self out of bed the following day, having stayed up late, eager to debate the ethical concerns with my eighth-grade class. Leading such conversations in my high school community catalyzed my interest in neuro-engineering. Still, as this field is yet nascent in my home country — Nigeria — I feared these ideas would only go as far as insightful break-time conversations, and once again, seeking my father's counsel to surmount this, I learned to "step back." I embraced 'earthcare,' starting with dissolving non-biodegradable polymeric foams (salvaged from appliances' packaging) in petrol to produce homemade styrofoam glue for leather shoes and boiling homegrown 'acalypha wilkesiana' as an herbal remedy for my younger cousin's dermatitis then moving on to synchronously pioneering an ornamental garden in my community church and the Friends of Nature Club in high school. Opening myself to the joys of ambiguity, I revitalized my curiosity through the nuances of ecosystems [nature's balancing act] and insightful interactions in the communities I created. By stepping back, I gained two significant insights. The first was the focal point of my diverging interests — restoration. My "restorative" instincts had kicked in to combat challenges in my family and communities and now, ultimately influence my post-graduate plans — designing sustainable nano-biopolymers to reduce amyloid build-up accounting for most neurodegenerative diseases, ultimately increasing life expectancy, perhaps right from the embryo. The second was that I could get closer to these dreams by stepping farther from my comfort zone, perhaps as far as 30.57˚N and 92.33˚W from my home country — the United States. Through higher education in the United States, I aim to continue my quest in its diverse and innovative communities, where each mild gesture or grand measure refines the quality of knowledge and broadens my horizon, tapering my fears.

(UN-)WITTINGLY DECIDED Unfolding my 60x35cm desk calendar, an annual gift from my former parish, fourteen-year-old me rescheduled each week to account for the extra 14km I now traveled to church. Fortunately, when my family relocated to the suburbs, I did not change schools. However, I remained devoted to my former parish, where I learned daily prayers and public speaking until my father, with the intolerable traffic, encouraged me to acclimatize. Open-minded, I enrolled in catechism classes and unwittingly volunteered as an altar server. I was a chorister in our previous parish and a lay reader at school, yet, failing to strike a balance between adventure and caution, I ventured into the only liturgical body run by teenagers — we were almost always at sixes and sevens. Accountable for my choices, I learned to run projects with little or no funding, train new members, teach catechism, and liaise with the clergy, unwittingly foreshadowing my pioneering Liturgical MC activities in my high school community two years later. As these filled up my desk calendar, I explored innovative modes of enlivening my community — the essence of community engagement to me. Harnessing my flair for baking and gardening, I found myself enlivening Altar Servers' meetings with homemade pastries and spreading manure on the flower beds of our pioneering ornamental garden in late 2021. Grandma shops for flowers, Mum originates floral designs for the sanctuary, while my siblings and I tend the garden — together, three generations adorn the church premises. Spending the eve of festivities designing floral patterns for the sanctuary, I could unwittingly swap a rose for a peony, aiming for a balanced design while developing a more profound respect for nature and her ability to maintain balance. Inspired to promote 'Earthcare,' I co-founded my high school's Friends of Nature Club. Here, we set up a recycling system by incorporating 'Laudato Si' initiatives, focal points of a sustainable communal lifestyle. On a recent visit to my alma mater, I helped design a memorial wreath for the convent adjacent to my high school, faithfully applying Mum's techniques. Equitably contributing to my new community as I did in the former, I serve at daily masses, grow exotic flowers, and bake for birthdays. There's still much to do, but I live by Maurice Chevalier's words: "If you wait for the perfect moment when all is safe and assured, it may never arrive..." 'De novo,' my triangle life — home, school, church — is whole.