It’s the summer of 2024, and I’m in that weird purgatory phase between years—feeling too old to claim the title of sophomore, but too young to drop the rising which precedes junior. Through these mixture of titles, I came to the realization that I’m exactly halfway through. Halfway through my Princeton experience.  

Princeton moves fast. Just the other day I remember dreaming of what college would feel like. The independence, the late night talks, the college romances and life-long friends waiting to be met. As a rising Junior, I admit these distant dreams now feel like grounded reality, but more importantly, I feel more grounded in myself. I know that I’ve significantly changed from the 18 year-old who walked through Fitzrandolph gate with eyes wide open but with a mind quite closed and ignorant of the challenges which awaited her. 

With time, I’ve become more aware of my freshman year ignorance. I believe I came into college with an over romanticized vision of adulthood, in addition to a blaring confidence that everything will go my way if I work hard enough. Not to discourage anyone, but college will never be a bed of roses. I think facing this reality, and the many challenges at Princeton, knocked down my 18 year old confidence to a certain degree. While my confidence has been lowered at certain points during my time here—I’m happy to report that it’s been on a steady trajectory uphill. 

A recent conversation with a friend enlightened me on a psychology term which I think accurately describes my growth during my two years here: the Dunning-Kruger Effect. If you’re not a psychology major (like me), you may not have heard about it. The Dunning-Kruger Effect is a cognitive bias where someone’s limited knowledge in a certain area causes them to become overconfident in their abilities. Essentially, when people have a gap in their knowledge, they tend to assume they know it all instead of realizing the gap. Funnily enough, I heard about this effect and thought “Wow! That exactly describes my college experience!”

However, I’m now aware of that gap, and I can therefore place more trust in myself and my judgment. From my two years here, I’ve learned a few things.  For example, I still believe things can go your way if you work hard enough, but now I understand it only comes with the addition of patience and flexibility. Further, I still love to romanticize college, but I no longer have the expectation that every second of it will be filled with those iconic moments. 

If I’ve truly learned anything, it’s that mistakes are meant to be made. They’ve helped me learn about myself, gain a sense of independence, and most importantly, given me a stronger sense of self. I’ve realized, I’m growing up a bit. I’m still proud of where I started, and I’m even prouder of where I’m going. Who knows, with my confidence rising, maybe soon I can drop that part of the title. Maybe being a junior isn’t so bad after all. 

When I first came to Princeton, I was overwhelmed with the amount of opportunity presented to me in just a mere few weeks. Those weeks blended into months and eventually, 2 semesters worth of saying “yes” led to a feeling I couldn’t quite pinpoint: burnout.

Being in the orange bubble is an experience that amplifies your sense of gratitude, confidence, and belief that anything is possible — and it truly is. Possibility is multiplied twofold at a place like Princeton. This is because Princeton connects you with the resources, the education, and the community to pursue your dreams. However, in this pursuit, it can be easy to forget to take care of yourself, to build healthy habits, and to form sustainable relationships. 

Naturally then, when this Summer started, the weight of the semester crashed onto me and I felt myself exhausted on all fronts. Exhaustion seeped into bitterness, and soon I was in a battle where the only person I was fighting was myself and the goal was to accept that saying “no” was okay.

There is something scary about seeing passion and hope being overshadowed by discontentment. If passion and hope are the driving force behind joy, then discontentment is the thief of it. By some stroke of luck and a little bit of effort, I was able to overcome this feeling by not letting the orange bubble define me. 

What did this look like? Well this summer, I ventured beyond Princeton and pursued an internship that would place me as far away as possible from New Jersey. This internship was a moment for me to figure out what I wanted to do professionally and subsequently, what type of culture I wanted to surround myself with moving forward. Culture, to me, meant the people I interacted with, the values I adopted, and the feeling that this community gave me.

My main takeaway from this experience is that while Princeton is a part of me, I am also a part of Princeton. Princeton has undoubtedly opened many doors for me that would have stayed closed otherwise. However, I am more than the academic and professional experiences that I have acquired up to this point. I am a culmination of the communities I surround myself with — back home, at school, and the places I’ve intimately explored. 

This summer, I was fortunate enough to meet a remarkable group of individuals who have challenged my perspective and enriched my life in countless ways. Their enthusiasm and passion were infectious, and it was an honor to represent Princeton within this community. They taught me the invaluable lesson that our college experiences are not linear progressions but rather, dynamic journeys marked by growth and transformation.

Through their diverse backgrounds and experiences, I gained a deeper appreciation for the multifaceted nature of our time at Princeton. Our four years are a canvas upon which we paint our own unique stories, filled with both triumphs and setbacks. The orange bubble, while undoubtedly special, is just one chapter in a much larger narrative. By stepping outside of that environment, I realized the importance of cultivating a broader worldview and building connections that extend far beyond the campus.

Ultimately, it is through these experiences—both within and outside of Princeton—that we shape our identities and prepare ourselves for the complexities of the world beyond. The skills, knowledge, and relationships we forge will continue to evolve as we navigate the ever-changing landscape of our personal and professional lives.

Last summer, following my first year at Princeton, I had the opportunity to take part in an International Internship Program (IIP) for a Medellín-based renewable energy startup called Solenium. As an ardent traveler and renewable energy enthusiast, I had very high expectations. Even so, I could not have imagined the vibrant, transformative, and gratifying experience I was about to have. 

As a fresh-out-of-high-school first-year student, I was amazed by the international opportunities supported by Princeton. Learning I could have an international career opportunity fully funded by Princeton was staggering: I had to take advantage. What stood out to me most about the IIP program was that it didn’t ask students to sacrifice life experience for career or vice-versa. As someone who is curious and passionate about not only academics but also the greater world, IIP offered me an avenue to explore all passions. In life, and particularly in the U.S., I believe students often become weighed down by career expectations too early. At Princeton, programs like IIP offer us the ability to maintain an edge in career pursuits while still exposing us to cultures and experiences that define the way we operate in and view the world. 

What did my experience actually look like? My IIP – through the thoughtful and organized help of advisers and an internship organization – funded a two-month internship as a software engineer at Solenium, a renewables startup in Medellín. As a student who literally came to Princeton for opportunities in renewable energy, this was a chance to work in my dream field while also exploring Colombia and work on my Spanish. Suffice to say, words cannot express how much I loved my time there. My supervisors and coworkers at Solenium were equally passionate about solving the problem of climate change and helped me grow as a software developer, problem-solver, and worldly person. The environment of the company was that of a family: multiple times a week the office would go play soccer against teenagers at the park, get dinner at delicious street vendors, or hold late night brainstorming. Outside of work, I explored the “city of eternal spring” (the weather in Medellín is undoubtedly the greatest I have ever experienced). I went on IIP organized tours, met local friends at the park, tried hundreds of different food stands and restaurants, watched soccer matches, and immersed myself in the culture. On weekends, I traveled Colombia: I saw jungle and ocean, got my hair cut – and had an incredible conversation – with a Venezuelan immigrant on his way to the Darién Gap. I stayed on a floating hostel, laughed with locals while trying fruits I couldn’t pronounce, and tried – miserably – to salsa dance. 

I worked hard every day to take the opportunity awarded to me and make the most of it. By the end I had – in the most cliche way possible – been transformed. I worked conversationally in Spanish, learned Django and Flutter to build a functioning prototype of a smart EV charger, and had made dozens of close friends – fellow interns and Colombians alike. I was able to see the passion and innovation with which people all over the world tackle the same climate problems I hope to fight. I experienced a completely new culture and grew as an academic, traveler, and person. It is for these reasons and so many more that I can’t even think of my time in Colombia without cracking a smile; my experience in Medellín was, and will remain, one of the best experiences of my life. 

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This summer, I am completing a RISE (Recognizing Inequities and Standing for Equality) internship with the World Wildlife Fund’s (WWF) Markets Institute at its headquarters in Washington, DC. This being the first ever summer I would spend in the US, I was excited to see what living outside the "Orange Bubble" (what student's call the Princeton universe) feels like, and most of all, how July 4th is celebrated in the U.S., especially D.C. Back home in Australia, I never really celebrated Australia Day, our version of Independence Day. Given the day’s date, which marks the anniversary of the arrival of the English First Fleet on Australian soil, many citizens and especially the Aboriginal Australian community regard it as a day of mourning. However, Independence Day here, from my pop culture knowledge, is a day full of celebration and patriotism–something that I was really interested in experiencing. 

I started off my Fourth of July by meeting up with my friend near Georgetown University. We had pancakes and scrambled eggs for brunch–a fittingly American breakfast. After brunch, I met up with one of my WWF co-interns and headed to the US Capitol. My co-intern’s friend was working at the Capitol and invited us as plus ones to sit on the steps of the building. We decided to go early to avoid the crowds and to set up camp at a good location. When we arrived there, I was impressed by the Capitol’s architecture–it was grand, had a big dome in the middle of the building, and seemed almost out of place amongst the rest of its surroundings due to its neoclassical style. 

When we sat down on the steps, I was amazed by the view. From the Capitol, I could clearly see the Washington Monument and the stretch of green between these two landmarks filled with crowds of people. There was a concert stage right in front of us with an orchestra, choir, army personnel, singers, and dancers. We were handed American flags by some people on the steps, so I felt that I fit right in waving the flag amongst a sea of red, white and blue. 

Not before long, the performances on the stage started. One moment that stood out to me particularly was when the U.S. National Anthem was sung; everyone in the crowd stood up and put their hand on their chest. No one around me actually sang, and were instead silently listening to the singer on the stage. At that moment, I remembered the absurdity of my situation: I was an international student, surrounded by U.S. citizens, in the capital city, during the celebration of America’s Independence. When the song ended, I felt a great sense of gratitude that I had the opportunity to experience July 4th in such a unique and memorable way. 

Before the concert finished, I left the Capitol–albeit a little unwillingly!–and headed to the rooftop of my summer accommodation where I met up with some other Princeton interns to watch the fireworks. While we theoretically had a great, up close vantage point for the fireworks, the wind was blowing smoke in our direction and covered most of the view. Despite this, I loved being with my friends and chatting, listening to the loud pops of the fireworks and seeing flashes of bright, sparkling light light up the night sky behind it. 

When the day was over, I was pretty exhausted. However, I was also impressed and satisfied with how much fun I had. July 4th was the epitome of cultural immersion in the U.S.–I got to experience so much of this country through the food, sights, location, and culture that I encountered that day. I am very grateful for the opportunity to be interning in D.C., and know that I have much more in store for me for the rest of my internship. Future tigers, especially international tigers: I highly recommend applying for summer internships out of your hometown–who knows, you might end up getting to experience July 4th in the nation’s capital!

Returning to Princeton after a semester abroad, I was looking forward to conducting my senior thesis research over the summer. Princeton, where everything feels familiar. But I quickly realized that, like people, places frequently change over time. In honor of one of my favorite romantic comedies of all time, I decided to write my own version of 10 Things I Hate About You: Princeton Edition. 

I hate the hill. (There is steady incline from Yeh College to Nassau Hall) It's simple: going up this hill every time I want a cup of coffee or have a work shift on campus is an absolute pain.

I hate the weather. As a New Jersey native, you'd think I'd be used to it by now but I live farther north where we don't have this kind of humidity. The heat wave hitting Princeton this summer, with temperatures in the high 90s, is something I'm not particularly happy about.

I hate leaving Rocky, my residential college. For my summer research, I'm staying in the newer residential colleges, NCW and Yeh. I miss the charm of Rocky, the greenery and the peacefulness. Seeing people walk around or taking photoshoots, it's a distinct environment I've grown accustomed to. NCW and Yeh feel like I'm in a small isolated world.

I hate that my friends aren't here. Most of them are off in different parts of the world or the country working on amazing projects. I miss having people I'm close to nearby, especially after being apart for so long.

I hate all the new construction sites; every day, there's literally a new roadblock. But with each detour, I'm led to a new path I've never taken. I see a new side of Princeton that I wouldn't have seen before because I stick to the same routine. So, while it can be frustrating each day, I'm learning to be grateful for each new place I discover. 

I hate how much I love my lab. We have so many new people over the summer but that comes with the quick reminder that their presence is only temporary. So with each moment I grow closer to them, I know how much harder it's going to be to say goodbye.

I hate how much I love crocheting. I've picked up a hobby I've wanted to pursue for years but never had the time for. Crocheting is such a great, mindless activity and I know that soon I won't have countless hours to spend on my different projects.

I hate how much I love working on my thesis. These two months simultaneously feel like I've gotten so much and nothing done. Running a longitudinal study across different institutions takes a lot of preparation and organization. While I'm close to being where I want to be, I know I still have a lot to do. But I enjoy it because it's work I'm passionate about—work I feel is important.

I hate how time flies so fast here. I only have a few weeks left before the summer session ends and I'll be going home. I'm trying to soak in every moment, every time my lab comes up with a new topic to debate, like grapes vs. cherries or what constitutes a cake. These are the moments I won't forget.

So, in the wise words of Kat Stratford, “But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.” Just like with growing pains, I come to see everything from a new perspective. I see how change can be good and bad, but most of all, how I'm changing with it.

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In April of last year, a few weeks before I submitted my official commitment to Princeton, I found myself wandering one of the many expositions featured in Princeton Preview (the University's official admitted prospective student event). Proudly adorning my status as a Prospective Student and eager to introduce myself to anyone and everyone who could speak to the beauty of my soon-to-be Princeton experience, I arrived giddily at the French and Italian department's academic expo table. After an unsuccessful attempt to show off my shabby oral French skills, I was quickly handed a pamphlet for a summer study-abroad program that was "sure to help" me become a better French speaker. "PRINCETON IN AIX, FRE207F," the pamphlet read. A month-long immersive French-learning program in the Provencal city of Aix-en-Provence. I'm pretty sure I shivered as I read the flyer: the idea of spending a month in a foreign country just a few short weeks after completing what was sure to be a stressful first year did not seem appealing to me at all. Nevertheless, by some weird twist of fate, a year and a couple months later, I found myself gripping that same brochure as I stepped off my eight-hour-long flight from DC to Paris, gearing myself up to brave a new foreign terrain entirely on my own.

My First Lesson: I was not on my own.

A fear of loneliness was the force that drove most of my anxiety from the time I received my official acceptance into the program up until when my plane touched down in France. At Princeton, I had formed my own bubble of non-French speakers and non-French students, all of whom would be thousands of miles away as I attempted to navigate my new life in the French-speaking world. All of this to say, I was absolutely terrified of being on my own in France. However, this fear was quickly whisked away amidst the chaos of the Charles de Gaulle airport, where I awaited my connecting flight to Marseille. After a sweaty three hours in Customs, with tired shoulders from the heavy backpack and overpacked purse that I had unwisely lugged through the airport, I all-but collapsed into the seat at my terminal gate. But before I could fall too far into my airport despair, I heard a kind voice ask, "Do you go to Princeton?" I don't think I'd ever seen the girl who asked this question. She had recognized me due to the Princeton sweatshirt I had untidily wrapped around my shoulders --- a sweatshirt I'll forever be grateful for because, thanks to it, this girl and I rapidly became friends. Launching into laments about the horrors we'd witnessed in this airport and bonding over anxieties over being newly minted traveling Americans who'd soon have to rely on communicating in a language we were still learning, our conversation was the most relieving breath of fresh air. It was so validating to meet someone who was just as terrified for the upcoming month as me. And she quickly helped me learn my second lesson of the trip.

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My Second Lesson: It’s okay to be scared.

Along with a fear of loneliness, living abroad for a month came with a plethora of other anxieties. What will I eat? Will my host family be friendly? Will I be safe? Will I get good grades? Will I be able to talk to my family back home? Will my French be any better by the time I was leaving than when I arrived? Will I have fun? 

Although for weeks before my trip, I chastised myself for being so anxious about an experience that — on the exterior — was sure to be once in a lifetime and magical (as I was told repeatedly by many family and friends), I recognize now that my anxieties only made me human. I was jumping headfirst into a place I had never been before, with millions of questions to which I didn't have the answers. I was scared, and it was completely normal. Now, writing this blog post, I smile to myself with the recognition that I can delightedly answer the questions that had plagued my mind before this trip. And that the beauty of these answers and the memories that come with them far exceed any anxiety that I felt in the past. 

1. What will I eat?

Anything and everything: strawberry gelato from any shop that offers it, samples of bread from the artisanal markets that fill the city, three-euro hot pizza from Caprese pizza stalls, pasta from any restaurant that offers it, ratatouille on the nights when my host mother is feeling extra generous, apricot jam with toast in the mornings, bubble tea at any point on any day, and, of course, more gelato.

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  2. Will my host family be friendly?

The friendliest. I was placed with an incredibly kind woman who was eager to teach me about the Provençal French culture and lifestyle. Over dinner, we'd spend hours discussing politics, food, travel, literature, and our respective lives in our respective countries. As an example of her genuine kindness, the last day of the program just happened to be my birthday, and she wished for me to have French patisserie on my special day. Unfortunately, my nut and egg allergies were a roadblock for this wish. But she found a way. I enjoyed nut-free and egg-free raspberry tarts (which she had hunted down) on my birthday and last day in Aix. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to me. The next day, leaving for my flight, I teared up a bit saying goodbye to her.

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    3. Will I be safe?

Very. I spent most of my days surrounded by my new friends. Even when we stayed out later than I'd feel comfortable in my hometown, I cherished the ability to just wander a foreign city after dark with friends. Some of my best memories of the trip were getting lost at midnight in search of a late-night snack or good music. (We were lucky enough to be in France during one of their major holidays, Fête de la Musique. It's a day-long music festival that continues deep into the night. For hours after dark, my friends and I wandered the town together, chasing a good song to dance to.)

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   4. Will I get good grades?

Yes, fortunately, but I also learned a lot. The first week of classes in Aix-en-Provence was extremely daunting. I felt buried in readings and had to start decoding the French of my local professors, who happened to don very heavy Marseille accents (the accent worn by most people who live in the South of France). However, I quickly learned that I'd get out what I put into my academic work during the program. I worked hard to speak French as regularly as possible — with the city locals and my classmates. I scoured the French-English dictionary for unfamiliar words from my readings and did my best to utilize them in my speech and writing. I hunkered down for hours in humid cafés to scrawl out the best possible essays I could and read meticulously over my professors' feedback. I paced my room, reciting my oral presentations aloud, correcting every little phonetic mistake I could catch. Trust me, I know it sounds grueling, but it was more fulfilling than anything. On my final days of the program, when I could speak with my Uber drivers and restaurant servers in fluid French, with little insecurity over bad accents or mispronunciations, I felt immensely proud of how far my French had come. In the end, it wasn't the grades that mattered, but the development of my language skills — skills which I believe will take me far in life, even long after this program.

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   5. Will I have fun?

The most fun. Every week was filled with new adventures. And the weekends came with even more. After daily class time, the city of Aix-en-Provence was our oyster. We could eat at the restaurants we wanted, shop at the markets in the square, go to cute movie theaters, listen to live music on the streets, and more. On other days when we did not have class, we were whisked off to some of the most gorgeous landscapes in the South of France. 

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A day trip to the Lourmarin, the town where renowned writer Albert Camus did most of his writing. 

Beach days in Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer, St. Tropez, Lac de St. Croix, and Cassis. 

Promenading around the gorgeous lavender fields of Valensole. 

A visit to a boulangerie to make baguettes, croissants, and pain-au-chocolat ourselves!

A trip to a vineyard to see how wine is made (and taste it, too!). 

Wandering age-old cities like Avignon, Apt, Arles, Moustiers St. Marie, etc., for hours at a time. 

Hiking through the "Petit Colorado," or what some call the Grand Canyon of France. 

Visiting gorgeous cities on mountaintops and getting to see Provence belly-up.

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But despite the gorgeous sights I was exposed to every week and weekend, I think most of the fun came from witnessing these sights with good and kind friends — giddily taking photos of one another in front of the gorgeous blue of the Mediterranean, hunting down coffee-shops in the middle of quiet towns, laughing our way out of sleep-deprivation on the early-morning buses which carried us to our weekend excursions. Even without the beauty of the south of France, I truly believe I would've left this trip satisfied solely by the friends I made. Which brings me to my final lesson of the trip.

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My Third Lesson: Put Yourself Out There.

At Princeton, I tend to stick to the bubble I know: studying in the same places, hanging out with the same people, loyal to the same routine. All of that went out of the window during my month in Aix-en-Provence. I was forced to break out of my bubble: go to lunch with a peer who was ultimately a stranger, work on a project with someone I'd seen once or twice around campus, let myself make new friends. In addition to fulfilling a lifelong wish to live abroad and improve my French language skills, I think I'm most proud of the conversations I struck up with the strangers learning amongst me in the program — strangers who I'm sure are now lifelong friends. It's hard to imagine building such strong bonds within the short span of four weeks. Who knows, maybe it was the Provençal air. Regardless, the greatest magic of the trip came from how close we all were as a group: one of my fondest memories of the program is the mass-exchange of hugs and "Bon Voyages" that filled our last day in Aix. It was clear that we'd all miss each other.

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With all that said, if there's anyone on the fence about whether they should take advantage of the many study-abroad opportunities at Princeton, I say, take the leap. You never know the obstacles you'll brave, what things you'll learn, or what people you'll meet. Now, from the comfort of my home, filled with beautiful, irreplaceable memories, I can confidently say that my sojourn in the south of France was a once in a lifetime experience. One that I'll cherish forever. 

So, be brave, embrace the unknown, and put yourself out there. Wherever you go, you won't be alone.

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Work hard, play hard. It’s a phrase we’ve all heard, but is Princeton a place where “work hard, play hard” is alive and well, or perhaps, where does Princeton lie on that spectrum? Work hard, play hard. It’s a phrase we’ve all heard, but is Princeton a place where “work hard, play hard” is alive and well, or perhaps, where does Princeton lie on that spectrum? 

For starters, you often see students lock in during the week and let loose—in many forms—during the weekend. Of course, it depends on the crowd that you gravitate towards. You will meet many students who only “work hard” and only occasionally meet the opposite side of the spectrum. Princeton definitely skews closer towards the work end—not necessarily surprising for the Ivy League. 

The emphasis on work is quite apparent here. Princeton students are passionate about their studies, projects and research. That said during the school year, I’ll admit it’s often hard to feel a separation from school and life. Work often dominates my mind; it’s a priority, and so during the school year most students work, and work hard, sometimes without a second thought about a healthier life balance. Queue, the “Princetonian work ethic.”

But when Princetonians aren't plugged in for the semester, where do our priorities fall? It’s the summer of 2024 and my time off this summer has led me to wonder if this intense “work hard play hard” mentally is a healthy balance. During summer especially, I notice that I struggle when this finely tuned balance between work and play is thrown off. I struggle to enjoy time off without some sense of academic productivity. This leads me to question if Princeton wires us to chase high intensity experiences? Are all Princetonians wired this way? Is it just me?

While I haven’t found the answers to these questions yet, I find them fascinating to explore. During this summer at Princeton, I decided to survey my friends to find some answers. On the work side of the spectrum, I have two friends that come to mind who work hard, and pretty intensely. These friends sleep 4-5 hours a night and are consumed, passionately or stressfully— I’m not sure—with work, projects, and competitions. On the other side of the spectrum, I have several friends who enjoy time off without a second thought. One friend told me “tomorrow is not guaranteed,” so why consume your summer with work? 

With all these different perspectives, the real question is where do I want to lie on that spectrum? I recently realized that it’s very easy for your mindset to conform to the environment that you’re in. That may explain why so many Princetonians feel a need to work all the time: this environment is conducive to it. While I’m still trying to find my own balance between work and play, I admit that part of me is still drawn to that intense balance—partly because I feel it allows me to live life to the fullest. And that’s a theme I see at Princeton. Whether students work hard or play hard, Princetonians have a certain discipline and passion in everything they do. Life is lived to the fullest. 

And while this mentality may serve my college years, I admit that this certain binary scale may not serve me forever. Is my work ethic—my Princetonian Work Ethic—a lifelong thing? I’m not sure. Maybe the wiser of us knows the answer, but all I know is that I’m going to live life to the fullest. Whether that's work, play, or something else, the only thing I can do is keep trying to figure it out. 

This Summer, I found myself interning at Atento Capital, an early-stage investment firm focused on unlocking unsung potential in Tulsa, Oklahoma. While I was initially apprehensive about relocating to the midwest for the Summer, I have found myself growing quite fond of the people, the places, and the memories I have made here.

Over the past 10 weeks, I experienced my first rodeo, stepped back into medieval times, and even touched bison! While each activity has uniquely shaped my perception of what the Midwest has to offer, it is truly is the people who make this place special. While we are a group of 19, it has been surprisingly easy to connect with my fellow “Atenterns.” We are co-workers during the day but we seamlessly blend into close friends by night. With everyone coming from such different backgrounds, it truly is such a privilege to be in Tulsa and learn more about the impact venture capital can make on the local community.

Indeed, since coming here I’ve learned many things about venture capital, including how to do due diligence and analyze product-market fit. As part of a startup company, I have learned how to be resourceful and flexible, taking each day as a learning opportunity. Contrary to what some might expect, the most important skills I’ve learned here have not been how to pitch companies or network, but how to embrace being a giver and through so, build community. 

For every drive to work, coffee chat, and weekday/weekend spent together, I’ve learned to appreciate the importance of community in both my immediate and broader circles of friendship. Community is big in Tulsa — it is what drives the transformation of the city’s tomorrow. This transformation, to me, is what makes the city pulse with hope. This hope is what makes my work, and the work of every person who lives here, feel like it has a purpose and an impact beyond ourselves. 

At the start of the summer, I asked myself how I could take everything I’ve learned at Princeton to improve the work I would do in Tulsa. Now, I find myself asking how I can take the lessons of being “Atento” (helpful) to shape the trajectory of my last two years at Princeton. While I do not know what these last two years will look like, my personal and professional experiences have taught me to take that leap of faith — whether it be in a new industry or a new city and to never cease to venture. 

Many Princetonians find themselves on the east or west coast, whether through an internship during school or a job after graduation. As part of a larger trend, the middle of the country is often overlooked, flown over, and forgotten. This sentiment has been valid in my mind up until now. Thanks to one of Princeton’s Center for Career Development’s job/internship fairs, I found an opportunity hidden in an overlooked place: Tulsa, Oklahoma. 

When I first walked up to Atento’s booth, I had no clue who or what their company was. It turns out, they are a venture capital firm out of Tulsa, OK, looking to do good by unlocking unsung potential in marginalized founders. Their mission is to provide capital to groups who are often overlooked. There is no better place to do so than Tulsa. 

When I first heard that I got the internship, I was excited, but then I realized that I’d be in Tulsa for the summer—essentially the middle of nowhere. Oh, how wrong could I have been? Since coming to Tulsa, I have been pleasantly surprised. Although the city is nowhere close to the likes of NYC, San Francisco, or other coastal metropolitan cities in terms of size, it is still a city with its own unique culture. This culture is what makes Tulsa amazing. 

Tulsa is growing, and growing fast. In the past, Tulsa was the ‘Oil Capital of the World’ and home to what was known as Black Wall Street, both of which are no longer, but it is now trying to become great again. My internship has given me some insider knowledge on this mission, and it seems to be coming into fruition, thanks mostly in part to the philanthropy of George Kaiser. 

George Kaiser, in short, is a philanthropic billionaire who made his money from his family's oil and gas company as well as the Bank of Oklahoma. He acknowledges the life he was born into and has pledged at least half of his wealth to charity upon his death (the giving pledge). He also has a foundation, the George Kaiser Family Foundation, which is committed to reversing the generational cycle of poverty in Tulsa through early childhood education (among many other initiatives). He is fully committed to making Tulsa a better place, which is symbolized in how much he has done for Tulsa, including his flagship park, the Gathering Place, and what he plans on for the future. With this backing, Tulsa will be a great city once again, included in conversation with other large cities. 

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You may be wondering what the point of this blog is, well, it is to encourage my fellow Princetonians and others alike to take a chance and explore opportunities in ‘unknown’ places. It is hard to find those hidden gems, if you aren't open to looking for them. Maybe moving to a city you never pictured yourself in could be an amazing opportunity. If venture capital has taught me anything, it's time to invest in a small city! 

Dear Reader,

When one thinks about Princeton, academics, internships, classes, and pre-professional extracurricular activities often come to mind—serious stuff. However, I have been on many side quests, aka. casual things that I enjoy doing just for the sake of them. I hope this first side quest blog will provide a glimpse into something new that I tried for fun, amigurumi, which is a Japanese art form of crocheting small, stuffed yarn creatures.

I’d never crocheted before Princeton. I always saw it as a tedious, difficult chore to secure each even, endless stitches. Last fall, I joined the Crochet Club with the encouragement of a friend who already knew how to crochet, and secured two free bee crochet kits from the club’s giveaway. It was quite difficult: my fingers cramped, my stitches were loose, and I had a hard time with the “magic loop:” the first few stitches to begin the first row. Fortunately equipped with my patient friend’s help, I began to improve and gradually inched through each row, barely keeping track of the number of stitches (which is not good, since you are supposed to count the stitches in each row). I fell into the comforting pattern of single stitches, and as academic life became more stressful, I gratefully turned to my bee, even just a few stitches a day. After a few weeks, my initially lopsided stitches became more tidy, and I successfully created my first pink bee.

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The week before winter break, the Princeton Student Events Committee (PSEC) hosted a finals event and gave out free Woobles kits, which are self-guided crochet kits with yarn, stitch markers, hooks, needles, and an instruction packet. Eager to practice more, I continued my hobby and created a rainbow narwhal. With more time on my hands, I found many free crochet patterns of cute amigurumi online and embarked on larger projects, like a medium-sized tiger to keep me company on campus! The Crochet Club also has a GroupMe chat for members to share recent creations, yarn recommendations, and more general advice. It was a warm community for us to geek out about one another’s cute projects. Thanks to the club and my peers, I pushed myself to learn something new and am now able to create cute creatures, which make great gifts for my friends and family!

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This summer, I have been giving out yarn and hooks to my new friends and teaching them how to crochet, starting with the “magic circle” and single crochets. The crochet circle is only growing!

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