When I was a child, my dad often told me the story of his father. Born as a peasant in the British Raj, he didn't have much money growing up. However, when the British left, he was able to go to school and get a job as a teacher. While not the greatest job, it provided more money than he had ever seen. He spent lavishly on material items like radios. Even taking out loans to buy stuff. While my father was never hungry, they always lived on the edge. Meanwhile, my grandfather's friends spent but they spent their wealth on bonds, stocks, and property. This story about my grandfather taught me two important things. One was to never buy a radio and secondly to have money to make money. With the proper investment whether it be farmland in my grandfather's age or bitcoin in my age, investment is the key to having money make money. Lastly, however, it taught me the danger of loans. Loans from the beginning of the human economy have been a quick yet dangerous way to get capital fast. If the loan is paid off, well and good. If not the consequences can severe. They should never be used to buy luxury items such as the ones my grandfather bought and certainly not at the high-interest rates he took them at. Financial knowledge in a way is unique from any other type of knowledge. A poor man with the proper knowledge is richer than a fool with money. The poor man with financial knowledge will be poor for a while and may even die poor, but he will be able to invest smartly and set the framework for future generations to grow in. Investing smartly is the greatest lesson I've learned.

Born into a comfortable home with loving parents, I had everything I needed. The latest Magic Treehouse book and the latest Beyblades. As I reflect though, there is one thing that my life has lacked. Uniqueness. My teachers for as long had been preaching how we were all different, but I didn't see it. I lived in the same cookie-cutter house as my neighbors. Followed the same sports teams as my friends. I took the same classes as my peers. Not a single one of my experiences was unique. This deeply haunted me. My parents, teachers, and any other adult I looked up to told me to live a life you are proud of. How could I live a life I am proud of if everyone else has lived the same life. This has shaped my goal of leaving my unique mark on this world. Whether it's as small as volunteering to help replant the Amazon rainforest or founding my own country. That ties into my other goal of experiencing the experiences. My whole life, I had been eating foods native to the USA. While there is nothing wrong with decadent hamburgers or cheesy slices of pizza, there is more. Five years ago, while on vacation in Miami I tried Haitian food. I had never even heard of Haiti but I thought it was the best food ever. But for 12 years of my life, I had gone without the delicious rice and plantains. It made me wonder what else am I missing? What other foods and experiences are I missing. These desires for uniqueness and fear of missing experiences have greatly shaped my goals for my future. I want to be able to live a life that I am proud of.

1+1 equals 11. For the first couple of months of 1st grade, I stood by this equation. While opposing critics argued 1+1 equals 2, my fellow believers and I stood by my belief that 1+1=11. It made sense after all: The symbols looked correct. However, it wasn't the basic math behind it; it was more of the benefits that came with believing that 1+1=11. My refusal to accept that 1+1=2 had nothing to do with a personal problem against math. It simply did not look appealing to my 1st-grade mind. My face soured at the stark contrast of the curves of the number 2 to the orderly columns of 11.  It didn't make sense to me that 2 perfectly straight lines. What was it about the orderly structures that pleased me? As a child, I had lacked order, as an immigrant my dad traveled across the country from Tennessee to California for work. When I did not do my homework, the worst I got was an angry phone call from him. 1+1=11 made sense to me in an environment where I lacked order. In Chinese culture, while 11 is a lucky number it also signifies loneliness. I was lucky to have hard-working parents. When my widowed grandfather visited from across the world to help take care of me, the warmth of my parents was replaced with the distance of the no-frills veteran. I jokingly wrote 1+1=11 and showed it to my grandfather. He looked at me with shock and laughed. For me, it felt like I was a comedian on SNL. I could have said, “And live from New York, it's Saturday Night”. While ultimately I was wrong, it was not about being right but rather the bonding and relationships it allowed me to build.

Every day 3 million people die. 3 million people reflect on their lives and many ask themselves "What have I done?". Some people went about their lives and others founded entire nations. When I am faced with this moment, I want my reflection to be filled with one simple thing. I want my life to be filled with memories of good friends and Wordle. I believe that, while the family is important, you are born with a family. However, friends you choose and ultimately they reflect a lot about yourself. It is comforting to know that in the end, I lead a life with good friends, accumulating good memories. Memories are similar to those that I have had in high school with my friends during our countless hours of free time in the summer, studying together for the AP exams, and learning how to drive. It is these memories that if I could, I would relive them over and over again. A time when I didn't have to worry about if my major is good or how will I love halfway across the country. In my dream life, I would be able to experience those same memories with the same people. When I reflect at the end of my dream life, I want to know that it was filled with good memories with good friends. More importantly, however, filling one's life with Wordle can never go wrong.