Sanlie:
I was cleaning out my e-mail inbox when I came across this ancient, badly-written piece (part of the peer-revision for you UPenn admission?)
In my first year of knowing Sanlie, I sustained her as that girl, the reserved, semi-transparent class genius in the classroom corner. And although she constantly basked under the limelight for answering the unanswerable or acing the “un-acable,” I cannot remember my best friend, Sanlie, being in it at all, only imagine. That is because since then, she has undergone a deep metamorphosis — a reversal of roles— going from sheep to Shepard and from spectator to player; ultimately redefining a timid girl into living, breathing revolutionary art.
Nowadays when I see Sanlie give instructions to the Academic Decathlon team from the podium, I believe more and more that she was born to be our captain. She speaks with uninterrupted thought and a dignified tone; stern, yet thanks to that small voice, softly. Though these preceding qualities are reiterated in many of our other teammates, the differentiating factor from follower to leader is the synonymous nature of Sanlie’s name to “wise woman.” When our team was left without a captain, we were in utter confusion, asking each other, “What do we study first? Who’s house are we going to meet at? When do we read this section?” And no one, but Sanlie, answered and delivered. Since then, she’s become a magnet for inquisitive decatheletes, listening to every question and promptly finding a response, be it by simple recall or peer collaboration. By no means am I implying perfection because there have been times where Sanlie is too engrossed with her studies or personal affairs to answer my questions; but compared to the quiet girl in the corner that she used to be, she has blossomed like no other.
Though what I’ve come to love about Sanlie is what she’s come to hate most: the “hipster” label. By definition a hipster is driven to be the minority, be it in music or cliques, but is heavily tarnished with a record of wasteful spending and haughty attitudes. The negative, aforementioned qualities are ironic when you consider that when Sanlie and I go to the hipster-hub, Old town Pasadena, to indulge on window shopping and exotic cuisines, we scoff and critique the pseudo-aristocrats around us for their squandering habits. Yet these cynical and intellectual conversations only partially embody Sanlie’s beautiful, cultural side as a hipster. It’s the introductions to independent films, the sympathy for the misunderstood, the digressions on love over instant messengers, and even her ironic dancing that appears professional and exotic for the sake of hiding her inability to dance. It’s all this and more quirky tickings that compose the Sanlie that is the minority of the student body; the bold, mature, and outspoken student, Sanlie.
Without Sanlie’s transformation into a more outspoken individual, not only would our school not have a successful Academic Decathlon team, but the everyday drone of classroom life would have gotten to me. Thanks to this natural leader, I’m motivated in times of need. Thanks to this eccentric friend, I’m entertained in times of sleepiness. Ultimately, thanks to Sanlie, Rosemead High School has a face under “Most likely to succeed” it can one day be proud of.
