Challenge 63: A Bad Dream

242. Describe a recurring dream.

I'm falling. I don't know if it is from a cliff or just from my bed. But it happens. Again and again. I fall and fall, into darkness, into nothingness. There is nobody around me. It is all dark and black. I'm not even sure if there is a sky above me or if there is a ground that I will eventually meet. I am unsure. I cannot smell anything or taste anything. It is frustrating to not know what is happening. I do not see my hands and feet. I'm not even sure if it is me falling. Or maybe I am just watching somebody else fall. No, but I do feel something and it is sickening. I don't know why I even remember that feeling. I have only jumped once from a cliff and that took so much courage. I thought that feeling had already disappeared into my busy life. But it comes out in that dream, that feeling. It is the worst of all. I feel like my heart has jumped into my throat. I feel like my stomach has taken my heart's place. I feel like all the organs inside my body are displaced and malfunctioning. I feel like there is going to be no ending to this feeling. Oh, how badly I wish someone would catch me, hold my hands, and pull me back upwards. Then, I wake up all of a sudden. I find myself gripping the side of my bed, my hands sweaty and arms tired. I do not know what has happened, but waking up from the dream, I feel safe and reassured. No, it’s not the end of the world. I smile to myself and try to fall back asleep. I think to myself. Maybe this dream means something. Maybe it’s showing me how bad things can get. Maybe it’s telling me to keep looking for something, searching for something to rescue me. Maybe it wants me to know that familiar things can disappear and I might get lost. However, I just have to find my way back. Maybe it’s telling me that in the midst of nothingness, there is still a hope, a hope of waking up. But, on the other hand, it could just be a bad dream. 

Challenge 62: Ama

206. What makes your dad or mom special

If I remember correctly, I was in the fourth grade when it happened. I wasn't prepared for it and neither was my sister. It was just another rushed morning where I tried to gobble up the food before the school bus came to pick us up. If it wasn't for the super sensitive taste buds, I would have never guessed.

But it did happen. As always, I woke up that morning just twenty minutes before my school bus arrived. In a hurry, I washed, brushed, changed, packed my bag, and headed down for breakfast with my sister following close behind. I couldn't find matching socks to wear and that left me frustrated and close to tears (I start to cry when I panic- old habit). Just ten minutes before leaving for school, I was sitting in the kitchen with the breakfast steaming in front of me. As I come from a typical Nepali family, sitting on my plate were rice, lentils, spinach, and some cauliflower mixed together. Because of the cold season, my mother had added some ghee in the rice. Or so she thought. 


As my helper came running down the steps with the matching pair of socks in one hand and the polished black shoes in another, my mother fed me the first bite. Unlike other mornings, it tasted different. It tasted sweet when it shouldn't have. I knew something was wrong, and by the looks of my sister, she knew as well. I looked at my mother as muffled words of protest struggled to escape my mouth. She looked at me, irritated, and told me to hurry up and eat. I tried again, but she got angrier and annoyed. She told me to stop complaining and finish my food quickly before the bus arrived.


Tears streaming down my face, I struggled to finish the food on my plate. Then, I was rushed to the school bus which had been sitting on the road and honking for a couple of minutes. And, by lunch time, I had forgotten all about what had happened earlier. As school got over and I climbed on the bus along with the receptionist at school. She saw me, recognized me, and told me that my mother had called earlier for me. Since I was attending class, I wasn't informed. Wondering why she had called, I took my place at the back of the bus and got lost in some conversations.


As I took off my shoes when I entered the house, my mother rushed to me. I asked her why she had called school, to which she replied that she had called to apologize. Instead of the ghee that was supposed to be in the rice, she had mistakenly added honey! We shared a laugh together and that was left as that. 


I believe this story best explains why my mom is like. She is fast, organized, quick to register things. She loves her children, her home, her family. She is responsible and respectful. She knows she has to take care of the house and is occasionally burdened by that fact. But, she gives it her very best. However, the factor that makes her most special is that she gives respect to everybody and anybody. She doesn't hesitate even once before apologizing for making a mistake, whether it is to an elderly person or her own children. 

Challenge 60: Disappointment

215. A disappointment you've experienced

It was yet another warm day in the summer of 2003. It was Saturday and we, my sister and I, were bored. We wanted to do something fun, just to take away the lingering silence in the room due to the recent departure of my father to Cambodia. Ama was in the kitchen, preparing our lunch as we sat in the bedroom. Then, my sister had an idea.

There are some things that you used to do as a child that now you are not so proud of. This was one of those things. I was just eight and my sister was five. We were kids. Today I am a little embarrassed to say what we used to do: we imitated wrestlers. Yes, we would just be in our underpants, running around a short, round table facing each other. We repeated the word "yah" over and over again, raising our voices as we said it. Then, with a last yell, we would attack each other, whether it be jumping on one another or pulling the each others legs. I am surprised I still remember those days but I know we had lots of fun doing those crazy things.

However, that particular time, things turned out different than usual. After the ultimate yell, I jumped at her and started chasing her around the table. I caught her, she tried to get away from me, she tripped, and fell. Hard. She banged her head against the corner of the wooden frame of the bed. She rebounded from the crash and fell to the floor. Her head was bleeding and she had fainted.

My mother rushed into the room and saw what had happened. Ama rushed her to the hospital. With anticipation, I waited for their return. They came back after a couple of hours. Beside the couple of stitches on her head, my sister was back to normal. However, I wasn't.

I felt guilty and disappointed at myself. I was supposed to be the elder sister. I was supposed to be taking care of her. I was supposed to be more responsible. So, the eight-year-old me promised that we would never play that godforsaken game ever again.

Challenge 59: French

49. Describe your most important academic accomplishment or intellectual experience to date. We don’t want to know about test scores or course grades, rather we want to know about your creativity, your willingness to take intellectual risks or your affinity for scholarly endeavors. (MIT)

I thought being able to speak three languages was enough. I spoke Nepali since I was a small, I could speak some Hindi from all the movies I used to watch, and I could speak English. And then came eighth grade where I had a choice between taking Hindi and French, which was completely foreign to me. Of course, I chose French. But, I had no idea how challenging it would be. It was a completely different dialect than what I was used to. However, I told myself that it wouldn't be so bad and took on the challenge.

In the beginning I struggled with it. I would try to memorize all the rules, the gender of every other object, how to make words plural or singular, and what not. But, even when I tried my hardest, I would still end up with a B. I was disappointed and was going to quit without giving it much thought. Anyway, that would leave me with other options. However, I still had to finish my language credits, and wanting to give it another try, I didn't quit.

Then, it started getting easier in the second year. I started to understand almost everything the teacher would say in class. I started to speak French with my friends outside of class. We shared many jokes together. We would speak French if we didn't want others to know what we were talking about. We would talk in French to improve out pronunciations and "liaisons." I even started to listen to French songs!

Learning the language also meant learning about the culture and different aspects of the French society. I learned more about the country, its people, and their ways of living. From pourboire to collocation, I saw what it would be like to like in France. And now, that has inspired me to visit France, maybe study there, or live there for a few years. I could use what I learned in class to gain a first-hand experience in the country itself.

Taking on the challenge to learn French proved to be wonderful after all. By the end of the third year of learning French, my language credits were complete. I could have quit right there and moved on to something different. However, I stuck to the challenge and wanted even more to master as much of it as possible in the two years left in High School. And, although I am not as fluent in French as I would like to be, learning another language proved to be my most important and wonderful accomplishment in High School.

Challenge 58: Give Money

249. If you had to give away a large sum of money, how would you do it?

Living and studying in India, I lost touch with what was happening in Nepal. All that I had in mind were the busy streets, the noisy traffic, the good-for-nothing government, trash, and the newly-established malls. Therefore, when I came across a book in the school library based on Nepal, I instantly checked it out to find out what it was about. The book was called Little Princes and it was written by the founder of Next Generation Nepal, a charity foundation, Conor Grennan. It talked about how his reluctant volunteering in an orphanage in Nepal led him on a journey to rescue hundreds of children who had been abandoned by child traffickers in Kathmandu during the Civil War. While I read the book, I was inspired and awed by his determination and strength to save these children who were strangers to the author.

The book described his journey to Humla, a remote area of Nepal from where the cold never leaves. I learned about families who struggle to survive in the bitter weather. I learned about the heartless Maoists barging in through the homes of these poor people, demanding money and food. I learned about the sadness and pain with which these poor parents gave away their children to men who promised the parents that their children would go to safety from the ongoing Civil War. The men were nothing but demons, asking for a great amount of money from the parents only to abandon their children in the streets of Kathmandu.

After learning of the Next Generation Nepal organization from the book, I decided to pay the website a visit. I found a section where it talked about ways to raise money for the organization to help it in its missions. I quickly went through the list and found something about a documentary on Paper Orphans. After I saw the video, I was frustrated. I was angry at the slow development of the country, the corruption, the ignorance, and the poverty.

So, if I had a great amount of money to give away, I would give it all to organizations like Next Generation Nepal that helped to make a difference in Nepal. I would donate it so that people who are suffering in remote places where the government doesn't reach would get some benefit out of it.

Today, I know more about my country than I did yesterday. And tomorrow, I will try my hardest to make a difference in Nepal.

Challenge 57: What I Don't Know

133. French novelist Anatole France wrote: "An education isn't how much you have committed to memory, or even how much you know. It's being able to differentiate between what you do know and what you don't." What don't you know? (Brown)

I don't know...

1. what the capital of Angola is
2. how to stand on my hands
3. how to iron a formal shirt
4. why the ocean is blue (although I remember reading about it somewhere)
5. if the sun is going to destroy the world
6. what happens in the sixth episode of the second season of the Big bang Theory
7. what I will do tomorrow
8. why I get angry at little things
9. when to stop talking
10. where the next earthquake is going to strike
11. if I will survive another day
12. why the AP Biology book is so enormous
13. how to always keep my study table clean
14. what to do with the ten unpaired socks
15. how the flowers in my garden get through the cold weather
16. why my brother is screaming while I try to work
17. if I should have made my bed by now
18. what the world will be like in 15 years
19. how to reply to an awkward message
20. why the computer screen is so bright
21. I like to read
22. What will happen tomorrow
23. What will happen the day after
24. If I will go to my desired college
25. If I will become a successful person
26. When I will start earning my own money
27. what kinds of friends I will make
28. What I will do with my life
29. Why I keep wondering these things
30. Why I am so hungry right now.

Challenge 56: Routine

127. Describe a daily routine or tradition of yours that may seem ordinary to others but holds special meaning for you. Why is this practice significant to you? (Barnard)

Early morning, I wake up and sit up on my bed. The weather is cold outside. The marbles on the floor shoot cold bullets at me. I shiver. Gathering up the courage, I throw away my blankets and let my feet find the slippers on the foot of my bed. I stand up, stretch, grab my toiletries, and head to the toilet. And thus, the most important activity of my day begins.

I have to say that sharing the bathroom with around twenty more girls isn't pleasant. I run into them sometimes, I can't personalize the toilet, and sometimes, I have to encounter things I'd rather not. But, all in all, the toilet helps me get ready for the day.

As I enter the toilet, I see a small group of girls lazily brushing their teeth, their hair, and whatever else. Their eyes are barely open and they lean on the sink for support. But me, I am wide awake. I smile to myself as I see my tangled hair and weary face.

As one of the sinks is freed, I rush to claim it. Then, I dab some toothpaste on my toothbrush, hold it under the running water, and start brushing my teeth. I feel better already. And by then, I am used to the cold around me. I hold small conversations with my friends as I attempt to not drop the fuzzy, toothpaste and saliva mixture on my shirt.

After brushing my teeth, I wash my face. This has to be the best part of the activity because I feel like a new person afterwards! I mix the face wash with a little water and get the foamy effect. I rub it on my face gently and feel relaxed instantly. I wash my face with a lot of water and feel fresh and ready for the day.

Odd as it may seem, brushing and washing is something that holds lots of importance to me. It gets me ready for the day, fresh and new, and ready to work my behind off. I feel clean and ready to tackle another day.

Challenge 55: Page 217

13. You’ve just written a 300-page autobiography. Send us page 217. (University of Pennsylvania)

After I told her what had happened, I started to cry. I hadn't known that this simple incident had had such a pathetic influence on me. Just because of a few words and acts, I was acting like a cry baby. I cried and cried, while I hugged her. She comforted me.

She said that I shouldn't give into my feelings too much, that I shouldn't take everything at heart. She said if I did this, I wouldn't be able to survive life. There were going to be many other stones and obstructions in my way, and if I reacted like this every time, then I wouldn't be able to go very far. She said that friends will come and go. Some will leave a good impression while others will be different from what you expect. However, soon, I will be going off to college, and who knows, I might meet some really great people there and make some friends who will last me a lifetime. If things aren't so well right now, they would get better. And I told myself that and slept the headache off. I had listened and I understood.

However, there was one thing I didn't tell her, and that was that this was not the first time somebody had said something mean and I had started crying. I mean, you would expect the crying to stop after you had turned 13 or something. You would expect a soon-to-be-adult to handle these kinds of experiences maturely. You would just turn away, forget about it, and go on into things that mattered more. Of course, I wasn't like that. If something bothered me, I couldn't shrug it off and move on. Instead, I gave in to my emotions, whether it be anger or frustration or feeling pathetic. Childish as it may seem, it is much easier than ignoring it altogether.

However, when I did got off to college, things changed...

Challenge 54: Govt. and Pol.

164. Do you believe that your academic record accurately reflects your abilities? Explain.

I walked into the classroom thinking that I had prepared as much as I could. The night before, I had slept early so that I could get up early as possible on the day of my test to review whatever we had covered in class. I had read almost 40 pages the day before and had reviewed my notes this morning.

Okay, first I must admit that I had been slacking off in this class. I mean, it was government and politics! Additionally, the teacher was new and although we had heard great things about him from when he was a teacher here, I don't know, some 20 years ago, he wasn't what you called your favorite. However, after seeing a mere 5 scribbled on my quiz paper previously, I was determined to pull up my grade now. It was much needed because I want to do law in the future, and to show colleges that I ended up with a D in that class wouldn't be a very good idea.

Feeling quite prepared, I took my seat next to my two other friends. Known as the "three ladies in the back row" to the teacher, we didn't participate too much in class. But, today, we were all frantically flipping through the class notes, trying to capture it all in our minds. Soon enough, the teacher came, distributed the paper, and took his spot on front desk. We started the test.

As of this moment, I don't recall exactly what was on the test. However, there was a section with multiple choices and a writing section. Struggling like I was running up Sagarmatha, I got through the first section. When I came over to the second one, I noticed that I could scribble something down for almost all the questions there. Breathing a sigh of relief, I started moving my hand at top speed. After getting through all questions, I looked went back and quickly skimmed through my writing, correcting some errors. I went back to the multiple section too, making sure I had selected logical answers, handed the staple packet to the teacher, and flopped back on my chair.

I had done my best. I had tried my hardest and gave the test everything I could. There was nothing else I could do. And, I was a little confident on the writing parts so I thought this time, maybe I scratch up a B. Happily, I left the classroom.

But, the next class wasn't as I was expecting it to be. As the teacher handed out the papers, I prayed and prayed that I would get a B at least. After all, I had really given the preparation my best. He handed me the papers. Heart beating like the drums in the background of the movies when the hero is about to get his head ripped off by a giant squid with sharp, white teeth, but somehow managed to get around it and poke its eyes out, I looked at the paper. There it was, in blue ink, a 7 out of 14 in the multiple question. As I flipped over hoping for a better score, I saw that I had gotten a 16 on the writing section. My heart fell. I had still only managed to pass. I was frustrated. I got angry. I didn't understand what was wrong. Was I not smart enough for the subject? Did my brain not work as quickly as I thought it did? Or was there something wrong with the teacher? I didn't even know what I had scored out of in the second section, but I later heard that it was out of a thirty something. Wow. I had failed.

I have the ability to work hard. I have the ability to give something my best and hope for the best. I have the ability to work harder to achieve my goals. And yet, a number managed to replace it all. What utter disappointment.

Challenge 53: HP

224. A book that changed your life

I wouldn't say they, as it is a series, changed my life; that would be too dramatic. But, I would say that these books influenced my childhood and changed many things. Yes, you may have guessed: Harry Potter series. Yep, yep, it's the same old inspiring, magical, touching story. But with what Harry Potter was during my childhood years, and even today, I couldn't have asked for a better series of books. Thank you J.K. Rowling.

Not only was the aspect of magic appealing, but the story line with all its brilliant characters were inspiring. I would read the books for long hours into the night, just waiting to finish the adventures and start with a new one. I would watch the movies too, but I always found reading the book to be much more entertaining. I felt like I was living the adventures with the three friends. I would imagine myself being part of their lives at Hogwarts, meeting the magical creatures, fighting battles, and being able to do magic. In fact, it felt so real at that time that I almost imagine myself to be a witch, waiting to be discovered. Of course, that is too ridiculous (or is it? hmm...), but the idea didn't stop me from reading those books again and again.

In fact, when I joined the British Council for extra English classes, guess which book the teacher picked for discussing? Yes. The first Harry Potter book. I knew the book front to back. We read the book in class and had to play games and discuss things. I knew the answers for all of them, from the name of the bartender to the color of Hagrid's umbrella (which is different from what they show in the movie, mind you). I remember how all of them were so impressed by my knowledge.

The Harry Potter novels have taught me so many things. From what great friendships can be like to how to tame a three-headed dog, I learned so many great things. However, the most important lesson learned would be that life can be an adventure. In order to make it one, you just have to be up for it. You could spend every day like the previous one, or you could choose to do something different, something new, and who knows what that might lead you to discover? After all, all the adventures Harry and his friends got into was because they searched for these adventures, broke a few rules, or just took a chance. Life is like a tensed adventure package, waiting to be opened and freed into our lives. You just have to go ahead and rip it open.

Challenge 52: My Book

23. If you were to write a book, on what theme or subject matter would it be based, and why? (Stanford/93)

There are two kinds of people in this world: people who care and people who don't. The people who don't are those who think they own the world. They think they can say whatever they want, behave however their like, and talk about some things like they are of no importance. They become selfish and greedy. They only think about themselves and how they can benefit best from the situation. They are not sensitive about their surroundings, let alone the people around them. So, if somebody asked me to write a book, I would talk about these people.

Firstly, the reason for writing this book would be that these kind of people personally bother me. When the rest of the world is trying to save the planet from being destroyed, these people couldn't care less. This irritates me. It makes me feel like the efforts of the rest of the world to do something good are drowned by those who are just simple don't care. They think that as long as they are safe and sound, nothing else needs any thought. Yes, it could be that they don't understand better or aren't aware of their careless actions against the betterment of the world. But, even when one confronts them of the consequences, they still choose to act this way. The reason being that it is just way easier. What kind of logic is that?

One may judge that I am a pessimist soul. But I will argue that all of us have a little pessimist side within us. It is just shown with different circumstances. My pessimism involves the actions of others. When people carelessly throw away the trash right in front of their homes even though the trash-man comes to visit every other day, I get annoyed. Then, what do these people do next? They burn up the trash! Wow, what a great way to end it all.

The book would be fiction. There would be a hero, of course, who is aching to do something about the situation. She would be a character who brings all this misery to an end. She would go from place to place, educating people and telling them of the things that they should change in order for the better. There will be some problems, as in any other story, like a climax, but she would eventually conquer her problems and set out to create a better world.

Maybe this story will just remain that- a story. However, someday, I hope that I personally will be able to bring some change in the ways of people who do not care about the world. And, like Michael Jackson sings, "We can't go on pretending day by day/That someone, somehow will soon make a change."

Challenge 51: Work

157. Reflect on these words of Dorothy Day: "No one has the right to sit down and feel hopeless. There's too much work to do." What is "the work to be done" for your generation, and what impact does this have on your future as a leader? Write a creative, reflective, or provocative essay. (University of Notre Dame)

We call it an evening walk, but really, it is a stroll below the moon, and a single star that shines through the mist of the city pollution. My father and I walk together. He is hurrying away while I desperately try to match his pace. His steps are almost twice as big as mine.

There is a river just below the path, and I can see how much it has shrunk in the past few years. It has a famous name, Bagmati, and flows in front of the temple of Lord Shiva, Pashupati Nath, which we are crossing right now. I remember coming here, to this temple, so many times when I was little. We used to race up the steps, my sister and I, until I got older, and moved far away, and could only visit so frequently. The temple is beautiful and so was the river, but now it is drying up. There is trash lying around and city lights obstructing its beauty under the moonlight. I sigh.

My father says we should turn back around now and head home. I see a bridge just ahead and ask him if you could cross it instead and walk on the other shore. We walk across. The bridge seems weak, wobbly. But I can trust the solid metal and the hundreds of prayer flags tied to the bars are equally reassuring. They have lost their colors, the bright red, green, and yellow. But they still hold the faith and prayers of all those who tied them to the bridge.

We cross the bridge in a matter of minutes. I follow my father down the steps. Next to the bridge is a large tree, and underneath that tree, there is a small group of people. They are huddled around the fire, trying to keep their hands from freezing. No central heating, no automatic heaters. Just a fire outside in the cold, under a plastic roof. I notice a woman serving tea to these people. What a way of survival.

I want to turn back around, to the other side of the path where three and big, old, safe trees. The buildings on this side of the shore and too overwhelming right now. I ask my father if we should turn around, and he instantly agrees. We both walk back, feeling a bit, well, awkward as we pass the same people.

We continue our walk back to our house under the moon. My father points out how writers and poets describe the moonlight as such an incredible phenomena. But, he said, when we look down at our path showered with moonlight, it's just the same old light with nothing so magnificent. I think to myself that maybe that's what's different about writers and poets. They see things differently.

We near our house when I see something a bright, yellow glow. As we come closer, I realize it is fire. They are burning trash. I stand there, stare at them, and many thoughts fly through my head. What pathetic people, what foolish beings, what unfortunate animals. They are hopeless. They cannot be taught, educated. I think about the time my sister, my helper, and I tried cleaning up that place. We picked up for hours and still, there was loads of trash left, from diapers to got knows what. They came, these people, to watch us. They stood their, murmuring amongst themselves. Nobody bothered to come help. Nobody thanked us from trying. And another six months later, it is the same.

I walk into my house. I think about the many things that are wrong in this country. Poverty has not let people of Nepal get an education to learn about the consequences of their careless actions. They do not know that these things are wrong to do. And even if they do, they do not bother making a difference, changing some of the things in life to make sure our country can become better. But, maybe it is too early to give up hope. I am still young, and maybe, in the near future, I can make some difference in my country. Make a difference for the better. I know my country needs it and I know I can do it together will all those people who want to help this country. That's why, there is still so much work to be done. We can't be hopeless because I know that Nepal will become a better place than it is today.

Challenge 50: Triangle

220. How money matters in your life

As a bored teenager, I was browsing through the net, trying to entertain myself. Then, as I visited a well-known entertainment website, I can across a picture that really got me thinking. The picture was titled, "The reality about work," and it showed a triangle with its three corners labeled "well-paid," "legal," and "interesting." On the bottom, it said, "You can only choose two." I was stuck in a dilemma when I saw this. Which one was I going to choose? Of course, I am not going to do something illegal with my life. Therefore, my first secure choice was that I would join on workforce that is completely legal. Now, I had to decide between it being interesting or well-paid. In my life, I have seen people who love their jobs and those who detest them. My father, for one, loves his job and is committed to what he does. He never complains about it being boring because his job is his passion. However, in other circumstances, there are people who chose their careers by other means, whether it is family recommendations or, as in this case, how well the job can provide you a living. Everybody dreams of being successful, being able to provide your family with all its needs, and living without any financial problems. However, if you don’t love what you do, then sooner or later, you will want to quit and start again, or you would just die unhappy because you couldn’t spend your life entirely dedicated to what you are passionate about. Therefore, if I really had to make a choice between the job being well-paid or interesting, I would choose interesting. However, I know that the work I choose to do in the future doesn’t have just two of these characteristics. I will make sure I have a job that makes be successful, is something I love doing, and still engages my attention.

Challenge 49: Quotation

104. What is your favorite quotation and why? (Princeton)

A huge, black and white portrait of the great leader Mahatma Gandhi hangs just above the window at my home. Under the gentle face of Gandhi is written in black ink: "It has always been a mystery to me how men can feel themselves honored by the humiliation of their fellow beings. -Mahatma Gandhi" My father, who has been inspired by this great man and many others, hung this portrait up and a couple others around the house as soon as it was built. Having lived under this roof for almost eight years, I have no idea how many times I have passed the portrait and read the text.

Maybe it is the fact that this quotation is inscribed in my memory, maybe it is the respect I feel for this great leader, but I think it is probably because of the truth these words hold and how this quotation really appeals to the human in me that makes it my favorite quotation. We, humans, are irrational creatures and sometimes, humiliating other people can make ourselves feel better when we are down. When somebody is weaker than us or not as competent, we like to shine in their sadness and engulf in the thought that we are better than others. Here, Gandhi speaks the truth, the bitter truth. In order to become better people, we need to shine above and beyond out nasty human characteristics and think in a way that is profitable for all. I, as an individual, avoid making somebody else’s humiliation my way of feeling better about myself. I understand that I need to mature up and need to take other people’s feelings and emotions into perspective, start thinking about how my words and actions are making them feel. This will, all in all, help me become a better person tomorrow.

Challenge 48: Hiding in the Paint and the Pages

222. Where you go to hide and why

As a student living in a boarding school, it is predictable that I get into little arguments with my friends. Additionally, the homesickness that I feel at these times because I am away from home doesn't help feel any better. These are times when really, all I want to do is escape and hide away somewhere, where I don't have to deal with all these problems, although I would very much like to. And, after all these fights and arguments, I have realized that the best thing to do when I want to hide away is to do something that I really love, which will help me not think about the dramatic situations that surround me right now.

For example, ever since I was small, I have always loved to do art, and consequently, I took art classes at my school. The art room at school is very comforting. The windows are big, covered just with glass which easily lets all the sunshine through. I sit there, long after school is over, with my ears absorbing the sound of my music from the earphones. I sit there, on a wooden stool, the drawing book so soft under my hands, scribbling and finishing up the work I was assigned. I forget about all the things bothering me and just relax while I hide somewhere far away from all my troubles.

Another activity I enjoy doing is reading books. It was something that I have made sure that I constantly do in order to expand my knowledge and know more about everything around me. Therefore, when I get a bad grade or have to deal with something unfair and I just want to escape it all, I read. I let myself get lost in the world of a character out of a story. I read and read, encounter all the problems my character is having, and I think about the situation she is in. I think about how this is going to end and how everything will finally settle down and return to the way it was. It just seems so much more convenient to know that the end, which has already been written, cannot be changed. No matter what I, as a reader, do, the characters will end up the way the author decided. It’s easier to believe that at least there is an end to all the troubles my character is facing, even if the ending is a happy one or a sad one.

One might call me a coward because I like to escape my problems and distract myself, rather than facing them. However, I know that I have to face them sooner or later, but even these moments of distraction help me feel better. They help me realize that even if my problems end badly, there are still things I can do that will show that all is not over.

Challenge 47: Caterpillar

173. If you had to describe yourself as an animal, what animal would you select and why?

As unpleasant as they seem to many people, caterpillars are equally fascinating creatures. They have a mysterious aura surrounding them and are as unpredictable as can be. Although many people avoid them because of the way they look, they are beautiful the way they are with their long, fuzzy bodies decorated with spots or lines. The dull black or brown color of their skin is promising beautiful, well-developed butterflies. Their way of slowly feeding off on a leaf, little by little, taking their own time, shows that they are patient creatures. They are patient because soon, they are going to be magnificent creatures. They endure the disappointment from other people and constantly work on preparing for the future. The soon-to-be-a-butterfly looks like any other ugly creature but the wonders it is yet to show is hidden. These caterpillars have yet to turn into beautiful butterflies that so elegantly decorate the gardens and flowers. Caterpillars should not be underestimated because of the way they are now, at this stage. They are are still developing, slowly, and taking their time to mature. They are working towards a better future.

If feel like a caterpillar sometimes. I fail at something and I instantly want to quit. However, this failure, alongside of the criticism from other people, makes me want to try again. It encourages me to contribute to the person I will be in the future. It makes me want to show other people that they are thinking wrong when they underestimate the person I am. Right now, I might feel pathetic and hopeless when I fail at something, but I know that this failure will only do me good. I just have to endure all that I am today in hopes of becoming a better human being in the future who has a better grip on how to make out the best of herself.

Challenge 46: FLY!

218. What super power you would choose . . .

Like many other kids, I always dreamed about flying. Maybe it was the way Tinkerbell could flap her tiny wings and float so effortlessly or maybe it was the way Spider Man jumped from building to building that made be want to fly too. Whatever it was, the prospect of jumping off a building, falling a little, and then sweeping up to fly off into the distance was always appealing to me. Of course, I never tried jumping off a roof, but it was something that I have always wanted to do. Fly.

If I could choose a superpower, I would choose to fly. I would fly from country to country, continent to continent, finding new places. I would go to all the Wonders of the World and visit places that I have heard so many things about. I would go far up in the sky and play with the clouds. I would feel the softness of the clouds and sit on them while I travel from place to place, eating cotton candy. I would jump off from the clouds and fly away with the birds. I would watch them flap their wings so elegantly as I glide alongside them. Then, I would leave everything behind and soar upwards, outside the perimeter of the world. I would fly and fly, until I am tired. I would reach new places that nobody has ever heard about. I would discover new things, learn new things, and experience new things. When I am finally tired and too tired to fly anymore, I would fall. I would fall backwards, to the place where I came from. I would be happy to fall because I would know that I have done my best to make absolute use of my power. I would fall and fall, until the end, and then, I would be satisfied and would share this extraordinary adventure with the rest of the world.

Challenge 45: Fake Nails

227. The 100 percent perfect

When one gets bored, she needs to do something innovative to stimulate her brain. Therefore, when another boring day of my holidays arrived, I wanted to turn it into something completely energetic and lively. Of course, with my sister also enjoying her winter vacation alongside of me, it gave me an opportunity to do something much more interactive and fun, because in matters like these, my sister can think very fast.

We both bite our nails, which I know is a terrible habit because it makes my fingers look ugly and they even start to bleed sometimes. Nevertheless, my nails have never been longer than a few centimeters before I chew them off to bits. Earlier that week, we had visited our cousin sister who had a bunch of fake nails sitting on her dresser. My sister's eyes flung wide open when she saw these and asked our cousin if we could take some home. Being the sweet sister she is, she told us to knock ourselves out. And now, there they were, sitting on the table of my room, painted clumsily in bright red paint by my sister. We sat around the short, round table, deciding who was going to try them on first. Being the eldest, I used my I-a-older-than-you-so-I-get-to-go-first tactic to claim the first try.

Human beings are reckless sometimes and so were we when we applied some superglue (and they mean super) on my short, uneven fingernails and carefully placed the fake nails on top. After we were done, I held out my hand for both of us to observe the result of our excitement. There they were, my hands, looking like they had been grabbed right out of the Fairytale book with an evil witch. We ran to our mother to show them off. My mother, giving rise to her childishness, acted scared and powerless beneath the sharpness of those fingernails. We danced around a bit, took some pictures with the gleaming, red nails, and decided that it was time for my sister to put them on.

However, we hadn't realized how strong the glue could be. As I sat there, my hands soaked it water, tears of pain started to gather in my eyes. I tried removing the nails, but they were stuck so strongly to the fingernails that they refused to move. With a little push and pull, I got through my four fingers. Because of the little nail paint that was left from a long time ago, they came off fine, removing just a layer of my fingernails. Horrified as I looked at my thumb, the last of the remaining, I heard my sister laugh. She giggled and snickered, her hands clutching stomach and her eyes tearing up with all the laughter. Words streamed out of her mouth along the lines of, "A minute ago, you were show them off. Now look what happened: you are suffering. That was a really stupid thing to do, Nanu. Thank god I didn't go first." I became even angrier after she said this and tried my best to ignore her. She continued to laugh at my supposed "stupidity."

It finally came off in the end along with a layer of my thumbnail, which was really painful. After the pain had settled, I realized what a stupid thing it was for me to do. I joined my sister and we continued to laugh our heads off. Then, at that moment, I realized how perfect this situation was, the 100 perfect perfect, where we were both having so much fun. I realized the importance of being a sister, of being mean to her but at the same time laughing along with her and indicating that I was just teasing and being ... well, an elder sister.

Challenge 44: Home

243. Describe the perfect home.

I wake up at around 8:30 a.m., take a quick peek at my watch only to realize it's too early to get up. I throw back the covers and try to fall back asleep.
My sister is snoring next to me. Irritated as I am, I can't help but notice the way she clings to me, with her arms thrown over me like she can't let go.
No matter how many times I tell my father the dangers with the covers over his head, he still prefers to do so. As I try to catch up with the sleep that has long left me, I think about the long hours he spends at night, trying get this done and this sorted.
My grandparents, who live on the topmost floor of the house, are early risers. They get up so early in the mornings that it is still dark outside with the stars gleaming pitifully in the distance. As my helper makes them both some hot tea before heading off to college at 6 in them morning, my grandparents offer their prayers to the heavens, hoping for peace and prosperity in our larger, extended family.
My mother has woken up far earlier than me, taken a quick shower, changed into fresh clothes, and already performed her ritual puja for the day. She heads into the kitchen, ready to make breakfast for the family.
My brother, being a bright child, has woken up at the wee hours of the day. Whenever I sleep with my brother and mother, his screams and demands in the mornings manages to knock the sleepiness right out of my head. He gets ready for school and my mother rushes him outside to catch his little white van.
This is how another ordinary day starts at this perfect home of mine. It is simply perfect for its harmony and coherence. It is perfect because everybody lives happily, under one roof, as a single united family. Once everybody gets home after leaving for the day, whether it be for school, for the organization for the upcoming family gathering, for some deposits in the bank, or for office work, we all have our dinners and warm ourselves up next to the heater. My grandfather is a tough, strong man and refuses to waste anytime by the heater, and instead, prefers to go up to his room and get some work done on the long pedigree chart he is working on. However, my grandmother is rather energetic and chooses to spend her time with the rest of the family as she watches my brother play and destroy one thing or another. My parents catch up on the day's events as my sister and I fool around. If there is load shedding, which is when all the lights are out, then we gather even closer to the heater, sharing jokes and stories with each other and just enjoying out time together as a family.
This is how a perfect day goes by at a perfect home. I love my family just the way it is: ordinary and perfect.

Challenge 43: Time of the Day

237. Describe your favorite time of the day.

The morning. Without question, it is my favorite time of the day. I don't know if its the mood I'm in right now, or if it is the morning sun that I love, or if its the peacefulness of the situation, but I just love the mornings of every day (even Monday), and for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, I love the mornings because I don't have to walk my dog. Because at dorms, I don't own a dog, so I don't have to walk it. Instead, I can set my alarm clock for 6:30 a.m. the next day and wake up at 7 and feel like I have slept in (yes, it can get that pathetic at times). Then I can choose to make it a slow morning where I take a long bath, taking my time getting ready for the day. Then, I can plug in my ears and enjoy the long 30-minute walk up the hill to my school.

Secondly, I like the mornings because my mind is very fresh. I have all the energy I need to start off my day well. I can jump around, get a little reading done, work on little things that I have put off for the night. Or, I can also use the energy to do something productive, like create something new or read some really boring stuff that I'd rather not at night because it is sure to me to sleep.

Thirdly, mornings are great because in the morning, I can decide whether I want to be productive or not. I can choose to sleep in, order lunch from a restaurant while munching on some biscuits, and play games on the computer all day. Or, I can also choose to have an early start, which gets my whole day going. I can read a book, clean up my room, do some homework, and then maybe fool around for sometime.

Fourthly, mornings are also great for spending time with friends or going out in the hillside and spending time with the orphans. Yes, they do offer CARE activities after school on Friday, but it is so much better in the mornings, when the kids are fresh and are eager to do more paintings and learn new things! Also, because the orphanage is situated on top of the hills, it is a perfect place for lunch afterwards with the sunshine providing warmth in the cold winter.

I love the mornings. They are great for a great many things!