Megan's Biography

Bio Part I

I compare myself to others far more often than I should. And from this, I have extremely high expectations for myself. It’s the truth and it’s strange that I can realize the problem yet not fix it. As long as I can remember, I’ve lived in a world of high expectations and how found that being good at something makes the work seem worthwhile. I find myself working hard just for the sheer satisfaction of doing a good job. I learned to be satisfied with that (and maybe a bit of praise) but yet I find myself perpetually scared for the time when I work hard and get no satisfaction. My few horrifying experiences with such bring me nothing but tears and sad dismal stories.

I suppose the solution to the problem is to let go and relax. And there are times when I do think I let go, but I only do so after carefully analyzing the pros and cons before I make a decision. I find that when I do relax and consciously decide to not do work, I become antsy and begin to feel remorse over being “unproductive” when there is so much to be done.

I’m always disillusioned by the thought that thinking I’m never good enough will force me to become better. There are many times when I feel like I strive to do better just to prove myself. My biggest failures in life, in my current opinion, are all derived from those moments when forcing myself to do better was not good enough for my standards. This vicious cycle is, in the long run, more unproductive than ignoring it in the first place. How do I let go of something that is like a foundation to me?

Bio Part II

The city of San Diego is, as they say, "on the map." You say San Diego, and it is usually recognized on the same level as many other established cities of America. With so many people, it is easy to feel insignificant.

My city is one of utmost competition. If you're not something big, than you tend to be just another face. We find ourselves asking the question: what does it take to be good enough? The city is alive with such multilateral symbiosis that we cannot become an individual; we become a part of the shadow that makes this city.

I see myself in this city and it's like living gray when it needs to be gold. When picked apart, a single color can be appreciated. But as it is seen from a far, the colors mix to a dull gray. The gray of the people is the gray of San Diego. The eternal sunshine of the city of gold.

Bio Part III

I was born November 15, 1989, the youngest of two children.

Of my family, there was much love and devotion. We were like a set, depending on each other for support. We were taught, at a young age, that knowledge is the key that will open doors. We lived for learning and facts, not necessarily destiny. And within my family, we were all our own individuals. My mother was always supportive to the point of devotion. There was never a woman more kind-hearted and colorful. My brother was someone to always be respected, and father was a man of logic and success. We completed each other like parts of a masterpiece.

Yet life became a subconscious test, always striving for that greater knowledge. We felt and unspoken obligation to find a way to continue to learn. This did not make us distant or push us apart, it taught us to value the knowledge of ourselves and others.

And through this mentality, we saw the knowledge that was out in the world. The role models, the schools, the toys, and the books. We went to institutions where we not only learned, but were taught to try to love to learn. It was only later in my life that a true respect for knowledge came at ease.

Bio Part IV

The coveted bell would welcome the best thirty minutes of our menial days. In my childhood, that sonorous bell would signify the beginning of the moment when we could be whatever we wanted to be. We would walk out together; the same familiar faces, and dole out the roles for our pretend jaunt into our fantasies.

I remember as we began to play in the plastic structure fit to our size. The jealousy we would feel as the roles were assigned! If we had enough participants, the role of house pet would be assigned first, always a dog, a favorite among us all. If there was a boy, we would have a father. And depending on the boy, the coveted position of mother would be filled. The “left overs” would be tasked as the children, not only belittled by their true parents and teachers but now their peers as the rankings were set. The dog would crawl and pretend to bark and pant while the father and child would play and play. But most important of all, the mother would take control, becoming the figurehead, the leader, the best.

Playing house, I remember the feeling. That mutual respect from peer to peer and that moment to pretend to be something new. That rush, that thrill of simply pretending! Do we forget so easily the joy and thrill of being ourselves?

Bio Part V

It would be foolish to say I remember him growing from childhood to manhood, but it happened all the same. He was the kind of person that always seemed to be just beyond reach, right out of the realm of understanding. Yet to me, he was my brother, whom I treated in accordance. When I think of the times that we spent together, I can see how he might have portrayed me as the little sister; a shadow of his life and a slower form of himself.

Yet none of this was ever brought about and I cannot remember a single moment when his intents were poorly placed. He seemed to me a hero of the world, an intelligent being with a moral-bound heart. He could identify any plane in the sky at the age of 10, he could decipher the complex jargon of scientific text at the age of 13, he could master Mozart and Bach at the age of 15; how could I not be the slightest bit jealous?

But when I think back on my brother and the impact he has made, it is almost as if I see none of the jealous ideas that I once poorly thought. I only see the man who devoutly followed, and the beautiful image he has become.