Stanford Summer part i: A Eulogy

When I go to write about my Stanford Summer experience I immediately think of writing a eulogy. Not because anyone died but because it was something I learned to do in my Public Speaking class. More specifically, we were taught to write a speech that would inspire Laughter, Tears and Tenderness. And it just so happens that these three words sum up the entirety of my 8 week experience at Stanford University.

Laughter

When did it start and when did it stop? They say that laughter is the best medicine and I have to agree because I didn’t get sick once throughout that whole American Summer. (Unless you count the killer nose bleed that ran the length of an entire lecture. But that’s another story.)

I’m pretty sure that there wasn’t a single day where I wouldn’t crack up in fits of laughter. Once it was from a classmate’s witty remark about the introversion/extroversion concept, another time the accents and impersonations from Will Henry, resident comedian. I laughed with my teammates on the beach volleyball court, at our unintentional dirty play that won us a game. At one of my best friend’s dark humour that took on the form of an icecream meme one day.

One night a group of us snuck out under the cover of darkness to catch a glimpse of the meteor shower. We were all lying in the cold sand of one of the volleyball courts when I made a hilarious pun. I’ve got it on video actually…admittedly the response involved more groans than laughs but I think the absurdity of the rest of the night made up for it. There were many times where I would laugh until tears ran down my face.

Laughing at a prickly situation

I think we laughed more than we talked (which is really saying something)

When Bee got the giggles for the 500th time that day

Tears

There were also some tears that fell from sadness, not mirth. I cried more in those 8 weeks than I usually would in 6 months. And I’m not a huge crier but boy, those were some intensely emotional days that resulted in some intensely emotional crying sessions.

First off was the bound-to-happen-eventually-realization-that-I-was-very-far-from-home-and-family-and-friends-and-everything-I-knew cry. This one happened when I was curled up in bed one night in a very quiet, very empty, unfamiliar room. I decided to pull out the little card that my brothers and sister and parents had written in and other things to remind me of home... and proceeded to bawl my eyes out.

Then a few weeks into the quarter (term), things were getting stressful and I was having misgivings about my whole overseas experience and what I wanted to get out of it as such a pinnacle of my gap year. Two counselling sessions later (one from the university psych and one from my self-allocated “emergency contact” relative back in Aus) and I was crying again.

A long night

This relative had also written me a letter that I kept with me, filled with a list of hopes and wishes for me during the trip. In certain moments, a quick glance over those words would move me to tears almost immediately and trigger a release I didn’t even know I needed. These were very therapeutic cries, very cathartic. They became almost a necessity, and I don’t think I would have had any sanity left if it weren’t for the balance they provided.

There was also the abrupt ending of, erm, a summer “fling” that had the potential to result in a Cry to End All Cries. But alas, it did not, and perhaps this is simply a reflection of that whole experience. Not quite worth grieving. 

What was definitely worth grieving came about at the end of the program, when all of a sudden move-out day was looming. The feeling is almost traumatic to write about but it’s also something that I’m sure most people can relate to. That feeling of intense sadness that comes with the knowledge that something you’ve loved is coming to an end and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

In my case, one afternoon I went to my room to take a power nap before hitting the books and instead wound up curled in my blanket, on the floor, crying. Nice. 

Move out day: my mentors and I coping with the sadness in the only we knew how.

Bittersweet "smiles"

Tenderness

Sitting where I am now, six months after arriving back home to Sydney, Tenderness is the response that I find myself having the most. Memories that were so vivid at the time have taken on a hazy quality, like I am looking at them through a fogged window. They play out, preserved by the emotions they capture: pure joy as our trio raced each other on our bikes through the streets of Palo Alto. Unrestrained humour as we waved at the bewildered boys from our dorm when we passed them. Giggles bordering on hysteria as we’d gang up two on one and try to overtake each other, the breeze of a summer evening pushing the hair from our faces with each push of the pedals. We were free. We were euphoric.

Other times, we were gathered on the worn sofas in the common space between our halls. Faces drawn with exhaustion as time ticked over into the early hours of the morning and the minimum word count for the assignment due later that day seemed farther from reach with each minute that passed. Wrapped up in blankets, empty pizza boxes strewn across the floor. Our moods matched the carpet that covered it – we were becoming old and forgotten like pieces of furniture, motivation worn down to dust, ideas once bright and shiny turned to insignificant patches of brown.

But what bursts from beneath all of that is the little moments that sparkle. I remember catching the eye of a friend and silent laughing and making “awww” faces at a house mate who had fallen asleep mid-type. I remember sharing the best hugs that would make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside and strengthened enough to write one more sentence. I remember watching said house mate awake from their slumber just long enough to stumble adorably down the hall to their room with barely a murmur of “goodnight”.

My next-door neighbour and friend falling fast asleep. *Note: This was not her bed.

Meanwhile everyone else tries to stay awake with the help of a close friend's notorious YouTube videos.

End of an era

Countless moments adorn my memories with colour and noise, the bang of Fourth of July fireworks, squeals and peals of laughter as we emerged from a fountain hopping expedition, drenched. Blue, blue Californian skies. Green, green Stanford grass. Moments that weren’t always “good”, but fill me with longing nonetheless. Longing for a time long past, and for people whose company I constantly miss.





Photos taken and edited by @viktor_weisz and @bianca.yeung