Bombed Interview :)

Good morning Patty!

This is a follow-up email to update you that I um, I bombed my case interview haha. Before I dive into the facts of the matter, I must thank you for all the preparation you gave me yesterday. I am so grateful for your grace and always so lovely and wonderful. 

Ahhh. The facts are... um, I didn't even finish the case. My ears were all flushed and nervous and so I was hearing the prompt, but I didn't understand it ahhhhh. And spent time there re-clarifying basic points. I mis-read a word on the graph they gave me, I saw "with" instead of "without" and that changed my calculations. Ahhhh. 

And I had a lot of pauses. Yeah. 

Overall, very um, nerve-wracking experience and also of course, I do need to be kind to myself and understand yes, it was my first time ever doing a case interview but I also disappointed myself as well with my fumbly thoughts and words. I thought I could handle the pressure. I really did. 

And also, I really did hit rock bottom with an interview like this and don't anticipate an offer, but what I do know is that I'm still not discouraged at all by this experience. Casing is something I really want to be strong in and can see myself thrive in one day. I just know that it wasn't it yesterday but tomorrow and the days after this, wherever I am, I really do want to help people solve problems and it's so satisfying to me. 

Sorry for rambling! But consulting was something I came into very late in my college career. Like... the last 2 months of it. And I didn't ever consider it seriously until I started interviewing for it like yesterday and learning more about it and the skills needed to succeed in a case. Those are the exact skills I want to develop and especially the skill of having grace and not succumbing to pressure. That's probably my favorite skill haha.

I hope this finds you well. If you know of any folks who are consultants and might be open to having an unemployed mentee or how to go about finding a mentor in consultancy, I would love to learn more how to do that.

For now, I'll be back on the grind!

I hope this finds you well and thank you very much!

Warm regards,

DieuNgoc Nguyen

Dear Old Friend

When will we connect again? Like tonight? 

Paradise Pond shimmery, the last of its diamonds living. 

I wonder, when will I see you again?

I look at you. I look past you. I look back to the pond, big enough to be a small lake. I look back to the top of your forehead, the one I've given too many pats. To your smile, probably the one I made when I made that absentminded joke. Your eyes, that confirm my presence here tonight.

With you, I feel like I'm doing my job; I'm living.

I make a wish aloud as I raise my hand up in the dark, my hand and fingers make a new tree.

"I better see you again... after this." I look at you. 

Your lips move in the dark, a smile white, your hair lifting to the wind, "We will certainly try," you breathe out.

"So it's a yes then," I confirm, the space between my eyebrows folding. 

You laugh easily, slower than usual. We are pressed for time to press this memory of us and our histories, our complete friendship, into the cool air. 

The mosquitoes bite us for more.

"Of course, Ngoc. Of course!" 

"Good girl, haha." 

I reach for you. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, into a hug. How could I... just let you go? 

How could I do that? When the part that feels alive needs you?

Can any of us fathom what it took for me to find you? For you to find me back? And want me back? 

Our friendship, a string of Christmas lights. A castle-colored evening, every night. 

How magical I am with you. How brighter I burn. How you nourish my energy. 

How could I let you go and not cry and not hurt? 

You shall return to where you came from. I shall return. Our returns separate us. 

We will be a string of voice messages in each other's phones. Bursts of texts in the mornings and evenings. A random call I make, not random at all, because I'm heading out to the club alone that night. Because you are as well, and how are we going to feel even half of what we felt when we used to dance together? 

You will go into your 9-5, that new job after graduation. Your lunch, and then... our lunches when we shared them. I know... I would compare them too. 

Remember when... it was midterms season? It fucked everyone over. I kept getting fucked and how hard you fought for and chased your own sleep. You sought me out, in my own dorm room, for a hug. 

I held you there under my Christmas lights. I felt your tears on my shirt. I held you tighter. How badly I wanted this to be over, what was hurting you.

Remember when I wanted to go shopping that day and it was Friday, and since you're a damn good runner, you made it back in time to change and hop onto the G37 bus. We shopped and shopped and all my cute dresses, my favorite swimming suit, I got with you. 

Inevitable how bright you shine in my mind. 

The diamonds on that lake are still alive in my head. The sun hasn't set yet. 

When will I see half the diamonds I saw with you? Twirl like I'm in love to bachata. Shop and shop and feel so beautiful, next to you. And hold you because... is it not obvious? Is it not rare? 

I love you. 

Because, I cannot unsee my life, not without all the wonder you brought into it. You even bought the bread I liked.

I love you, my friend. 

Dear old friend,

I am reaching out today, because I want to connect again. Any time. 

At all. Always, reach out to me, any time. At all. I don't need a reason

to see you, silly bean. 

Miss ma'am. Somehow, the universe thought it right, when I sought for good friendships and good memories and growth and joy, that I found you. And that you may find me back. 

How hard we found each other and when we did, we had to stay. Let us choose each other, often as we can. The distance after this can't make time erase the pressed memories to pages of the days when I learned to love you and the days that I did simply, love you.

That is why, dear old friend, I will see you again.

"Of course, Ngoc."

when I pray

When I pray, all I ask is: the strength, dear Buddha please, to realize both dreams I've had and dreams I could never imagine. 

       My father and I drove past my elementary school a week ago.

When I pray, I pretend I'm there, in an unforgettably bright place, my mind a fortress, my heart an open flame burning white-blue. Let there be a voice from an ancestor who loves me whisper behind my ears, "You are here. You are true."

       I realized he drove me to school for 13 years, always in a truck. I realized how old he was. A glance to his face and a much skinnier skinnier frame.

When I pray, I lift both hands for the strings between my soul and my ancestors and spirit guides. How sure I am, that they surround and hum around me.

        I realized I had as much blind faith in myself as my parents did. Sitting in a car driven by your parents makes you feel like you're going somewhere without forcing anything to happen. 

When I pray, I pretend I hear their music. Wisdom, insight, words that passed through mouths I knew but came from somewhere beyond, all along. Words that found me exactly when I needed them.

        I was convinced, in every backseat, that doors will open. I just have to sit in the right seat.

When I pray, I feel a vibration course through me, pulling me apart. 

        My parents' gazes never changed. As long as I was in school, I was going to be someone great. That's the truth they felt in their bones. That's the reason I shiver with fear, every step I take. A heavy necklace interlacing across my throat, the charm a constant dull weight on my chest bone. 

When I pray, I wonder if time could reverse itself to before my reckoning. Back when I had time to afford being as careless with time as I wanted. Dog day summers. Sitting on the floor of my bedroom with my little sister, writing parodies of Taylor Swift songs.

        One day, there will be a reckoning. No matter your chances, you will always have a weight to remind you one thing: succeed and bring honor. 

When I pray, I think about that beautiful past. How I yearn to be that comfortable again. Maybe that's all I miss. That comfort of being a mindless, choice-less child.

        Culminate. Ruminate. Until I can only do one thing: choose. I have to choose well. I have to choose and then fight for that choice to be as true as myself. 

When I pray, I no longer see only myself. There's a moment and more where I feel the veins of the earth and the universe bleed through me. And then my family.

        It is both a burden and a gift. I am no longer a student. I am now the chooser. The maker. There is no academic institution that could hold me in that comfortable, easy-to-measure success anymore.

When I pray, I realize

        that all those years of my life when my Dad would drive me to school, I sat comfortably in that backseat. Watched the same houses go by for 6 years. Watched different houses go by for 3 years. Watched different houses go by for 4 years. I sat there comfortable because someone else had to bear all the choices. 

        I didn't have to bear one real choice. I bore few consequences. Life was a game, a numbers game or a letter grade or who were my best friends. 

        I was allowed that grace and that youth and that carefreeness, privileged to that backseat to life, because someone else drove me to school.

When I pray, I learn my life again. In a small glimpse. Like how in one drop of water, Buddha had seen, before Western science ever did, all the micro-organisms that could heal us and hurt us. More than life will ever know lived in one drop of water.

When I pray, I only learn and re-learn how blind I've been. How wrong I was. How hopeful I was. How all I can repeat in my head is for "me, me, me," for "I, I, I." 

        I want to re-learn my life again so I can be well. So I can choose well.

        I want to be well. To choose well.

        See well, to be well, to choose well.

What do I see now? When I pray? 

Exactly like you. An oceanic darkness. That's all I see. 

        I see no answers. None. 

        Just hope? 

        Because anything can live and hide in darkness. Things and possibilities I never imagined could exist are things I've never seen. And how can I see them ever, if they've only been in darkness. 

        So of course, darkness is all I'm supposed to see. 

        Of course, darkness is hopeful. 

        There are things I haven't seen yet. 

        In the reflections of my life and past lives. In the present day. In the futures I glazed quickly over with a brush, "I'll figure it out." 

         So when I pray, I am calm. I am still. To be ready and stronger and calmer, resilient to whatever moves and lives in the darkness. 

Every choice I make now, with the strength I keep praying for, is a different thud, a different noise, waking up different creatures and possibilities. I need the strength to carry the weight of each choice, just as others have done so for me. 

It is my turn to wake my own leviathans.