Asian Outlook | Spring 2023 Issue #2

7 | Falling | Brian Lum

14 | No Country For Old Men: 50 Things I Learned at Bing | Nortee Panpinyo

4 | Last Words | Celeste Pietrzak

6 | My Nights Are Often Plagued By Nightmares | Kathryn Kwon

8 | Dreams Are My Escape | Anonymous

9 | We’re Somewhere in Brooklyn | Anonymous

10 | Raft | Kathryn Lee

12 | Memories in the Winds | Yaying Zhao

13 | I Dream In Anticipation of Not Being Me | Rui Zheng

16 | Sleep Paralysis Demon | Kathryn Kwon

17 | Late Night Thoughts / Late Night Walk | Fatima Gonzalez

18 | Senior’s Guide to Surviving Bing | 2023 Seniors

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letter from the editor...

Dear Readers,

Spring is upon us. I wrote previously that Binghamton’s sharp turn into freezing temperatures always catches us by surprise, and that’s true of the spring heat too. Spring break, a brief ellipse in our rambling sentence of a semester, has fallen away to reveal hordes of students sunbathing on the Peace Quad.

This issue’s theme is “dreams” — specifically, the places to which we travel when asleep. Dreams are complex things. Tangible but unattainable. Innocuous but dangerous. Some people dream every night; others don’t dream at all. Half-truths rise to the surface of the mind when we unspool the tension from our shoulders and surrender ourselves to human nature. In these pages are thick nightmares of mortality, Adam Sandler, great-grandmothers and midnight walks.

This is our last magazine of the year. As always, this issue owes innumerable debts to each member of Asian Outlook. Special attention should be given to our seniors: Michelle Chan, Grace Chen, Kathryn Kwon, Kayla Maharani, Celeste Pietrzak, Jina Wu and Vivian Zhu. Despite preparing to move onto luminous things that cannot be contained in our simple Fine Arts meeting room, they have never wavered in their enthusiasm and kindness toward our events, magazines and media.

Saying goodbye is always difficult; saying goodbye to this particular class, who defined the Asian Outlook experience for myself and our continuing members, is especially so. Time is a wheel that catches us in its spokes, rolling us forward and forward. But in those rumbling cycles, we also rise from the ground to the top — precisely where we catch a glimpse of those who have left us, watching us with pride. We’ll meet again in the fall.

Yours in faith and shared memories,

Kathryn Lee Editor-in-Chief

ASIAN OUTLOOK EXECUTIVE BOARD SPRING 2023

President Vice President

Editor-in-Chief

Conscience Editor Secretary

Treasurer

Copy Editors

layout editors

Kathryn Kwon

Vivian Zhu

Kathryn Lee

Celeste Pietrzak

Anna Liu

Adrian Wu

Jessica Kwok

Jina Wu

Yaying Zhao

Suhyeon Kwon

Anna Liu

Tina Oh

Megan Pan

Bryan Wang

Publicity Chairs

Event Coordinators

Historians

Media Producer

Media Producer Intern General Interns

Kayla Maharani

Jenny Zhao

Annie Liang

Kaysie Liang

Michelle Chan

Fatima Gonzalez

Nan Lin

Chloe Hsiao

Sophia Lam

Brian Lum

Carmen Tan

Rui Zheng

EDITORIAL POLICY

Asian Outlook is the art, literary and news magazine of the Asian Student Union of SUNY’s Binghamton University. Originally conceived and created to challenge, redefine, re-imagine and revolutionize images and perceptions associated with Asians and Asian Americans, Asian Outlook also serves to protect the voice of those in the minority, whether by ethnicity, gender, and/or political orientation. All matter contained within these beautiful pages do not necessarily reflect the views of the editorial board. Asian Outlook reserves the right to edit submissions and publish work as deemed appropriate. Prospective contributors are encouraged to discuss their work with the editors prior to submissions. All submissions may be submitted as e-mail attachments to ao.editor@ gmail.com.

CONTACT POLICY

Uninvited contact with writers and contributors is strictly prohibited. Please direct all questions, comments and complaints to ao.editor@gmail. com.

E-mail us at: ao.editor@GMAIL.com

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Last Words

By Binghamton University May 2023 Graduating Undergraduates

Hubert Zhou

- Integrative Neuroscience Major

Dreams: I hope to become a healthcare administrator and provide more affordable and accessible healthcare to those who need it. I really want to especially make a positive impact on mental health across the country. I believe people need access to mental health resources which aren’t so readily available right now. I also just hope to live my life happily surrounded by people I care about who care about me too.

A Forever Memory: My Asian Night as Presisdent of the Asian Student Union (ASU) when my E-board made me a plaque.

The accomplishment you’re most proud of: Creating a closer board of directors as ASU President and honestly just being president

What’s Next? Cornell MHA for grad school!

Last Words: I love the ASU community fr; I wouldn’t miss Bing without it.

Alura Tom

- Psychology Major, Education Minor

Dreams: Live happy and healthy with my 200 horses on a farm.

What’s Next? Grad school!

Advice to underclassmen: Have fun!

George Lee

- Financial Economics Major

Dreams: Money.

A Forever Memory: Sleeping in the ASU room.

What’s Next? Job.

Advice to underclassmen: Pick something easy.

As we say goodbye or see you later, I wanted to collect some messages from our wonderful community. The Asian student community here at Binghamton University has played a role in all of our lives — it is one thing we all share. A few graduating members were gracious enough to share some advice and memories from over the years. Thank you for taking the time to let us be us the past four years. We look forward to seeing all the underclassmen find their paths and all the seniors grow in the real world.

Kathryn Kwon

English Literature Major, Human Rights Minor

Dreams: In terms of my career, I want to enact or inspire change. Whether that be through human rights law, public service or investigative journalism, I want to help people even if it wears me down. Beyond that and in a more simple light, I want to rest without anxiety gnawing at me. I want to melt into my sheets and fall into sleep without what I assume is the weight of the world crushing me. I want peace and healing. Someday in the future, I can see myself sit ting on a rocking chair (maybe in North Carolina) with a dog in my lap, listening to soft music as I let nature push and pull at my skin. That would be the dream — ease.

A Forever Memory: Honestly, all the memories that [have] stuck with me over the years are bad ones — times when I sat on the edge of everything and nothing, when the world felt like impending doom, when things were shallow and sharp. But I hope one day when I look back at my time here, sunshine slips through the curtains and reminds me of a happier experience than I can recall now.

What’s Next? Reflection and travel.

Last Words: Don’t regret not acting sooner.

Chasing an image of yourself and reaching it only to look back and realize you were fine before is one of the worst feelings ever. Be gentle with yourself.

Your life in college is neither the beginning nor the end of your world.

Everything in moderation.

Jina Wu

- Linguistics Major, Speech and Hearing Sciences Minor

Dreams: I hope to become a speech-language pathologist working in schools around the world or country. In the end, I hope to travel around the world, either solo or with a companion.

What’s Next? Grad school.

Advice to underclassmen: Do not pressure yourself into choosing a major too early. I know it may seem like everyone around you has everything figured out, but try to take different classes to see what you enjoy.

- Social Work Major, Spanish Minor

Dreams: My dreams are to have a lot of dogs and travel a lot.

What’s Next? Grad school and then getting my social work license. Then, maybe working in an aquarium.

Last Words: I appreciate all the love and support that I have received throughout my college years, and I hope to continue to grow and reciprocate that love.

Advice to underclassmen: Just be yourself. It really does not matter what anyone else thinks of you, so do what makes you happy.

Celeste Pietrzak

-

By Kathryn Kwon

My nights are often plagued by nightmares (An unfortunate product of the environment I was raised in).

Dark circles and exhaustion settles into fine lines. Sleep was a predicament; A battle between giving up — giving in To tendrils of temptation And fighting to stay awake — prolonging What is inevitable.

I dream of the world ending nightly. Against my will, I am drawn into apocalypse. What should have been peaceful rest is fear raising.

Soft fields of flowers turn into Asphodel. Infernal landscape, fiery hell. Pits of fire that drag me in — down. Chained legs and tethered wrists.

I am not my own, no longer. I am victim to, sacrificial. I have succumbed to my mind, hostage.

Falling

By Brian Lum

Jesus Christ!

I jolt up from my bed, heart pounding, head spinning and palms sweating. I had been tumbling through the air, feeling certain I was falling to my death. At some point, I thought I could even see clouds.

Where am I?

I look around frantically. I’m in my bed, at my dorm. It’s pitch black. I can hear my roommate snoring and the sounds of kids laughing outside as they stroll past my window. Unfortunately, I also begin to smell weed.

Oh well. The smell of weed isn’t as bad as crashing to the ground. I take a minute to ease myself. Then, with my hand shaking, I turn on my phone and check the time. It’s 1:30 a.m. I take a deep breath and slowly pull my sheets up and shut my eyes again.

I guess I’ll stay like that for a while. After having a dream — no, more like a feeling — like that, it’s going to be a lot harder to fall asleep.

I get that falling feeling from time to time when I go to bed: “hypnic jerks,” as they are called. I’ve heard a theory that the reason why some people get hypnic jerks shortly after going to sleep is because they were supposed to die; the angel who was supposed to carry them off to heaven suddenly dropped them out

Maybe the angel was tired. I guess even as supernatural beings, they aren’t able to escape the daily grind of carrying all sorts of people up and whatnot. I mean, if I had to do that every day while I’m already sleep deprived, I’d rather drop my victim (target?) than stumble and nosedive to the ground myself. Maybe God would reprimand me but oh well, at least I can move straight. I can at least sympathize: I myself am not looking forward to the inevitable nine-to-five, five-day workweek.

Maybe the angel realized they got the wrong guy and suddenly dropped me because they needed to find the correct person before they woke up. It’s kind of crazy to think about. The person nearest to me who died in their sleep that night could have been me, and I just got really lucky that the angel decided to do a double-check.

Or maybe …

Maybe my subconscious knows how much I still want to do. There are so many places I want to go and things I want to accomplish. I can’t graduate college if I’m dead. I might be able to travel to places around the world in spirit, but I can’t eat the food or interact with the people in other countries as a ghost — well, at least not effectively. What if it was my time to go, but my soul put up a struggle?

I settle with that thought. I like it, it’s comforting. I still have a lot of aspirations that I wouldn’t be able to complete in one day. A lot of dreams, if you will. I wouldn’t appreciate it if an angel appeared to put a stopper on them. On that note, I soundly go back to sleep.

By: Anonymous

Dreams are my escape. I crave the moment when I can sleep and drift off into an alternate reality. I dream of crazy things and play out different characters as if I’m in a movie. Sometimes, I’m a billionaire or a child free to do as I please, while other times, I’m a working professional with an established and decorated career. However, I also dream of sinister creatures that haunt me throughout the night, leaving me scared and fearful once I awaken. Regardless of what it is, I embrace and appreciate everything I dream about, both the good and the bad.

As a child, my dreams revolved around the idea of freedom. I longed for a life where I could make my own choices and live independently. I daydreamed about escaping pointless fights, leaving behind friends who treated me poorly and forgetting all about my hometown. Whether it was studying abroad or exploring the world with new friends, being away from home always brought me a sense of liberation.

Now, as an adult living away from my family, I long for their presence. The love and comfort I felt were irreplaceable, and I feel the weight of their absence in every aspect of my life. It’s harder to function nowadays when most things feel like an endless drain. The things that once brought me joy now seem like a burden, and I’m left with nothing but the nightmares that keep me company each night. I dream of being alone, ignored or chased away from the few places where I find peace and comfort. And yet, sometimes, I prefer those nightmares over my current reality.

I find myself wishing for more time to sleep, to dream and to escape. I regret having fantasized about leaving my hometown and forgetting the people who have always been there for me. I miss the simple joy of waking up to familiar faces and to the comfort of home. But most of all, I miss being happy and being surrounded by that sense of familiarity I once hoped to erase.

We’re somewhere in Brooklyn

We’re somewhere in Brooklyn, waiting for an escape room when young Adam Sandler comes by and tries to cut in line. Then, we all go in together. The escape room turns out to be a museum and it’s crumbling over our heads. We race to collect the books and put them back in their rightful location to ensure that the museum doesn’t collapse on us. We make it. I go upstairs and I’m in school. But we’re now in a castle. The top of the museum is a castle.

Instead, we’re in high school in Ireland. We’re doing a school play. I’m watching and I start crying. The play is good. I feel something pull my hair. It’s my friend. She stole my hair clip. I start chasing after her outside. The sky is gray and the sun has set. I start chasing her until she summons the winds and rain and fire and earth from beneath her. I start running back towards the castle while she chases me, spewing fire and earth from her hands. I slam the door before I catch on fire only to see my other friend with my ex-boyfriend. He’s holding her hand and taking care of her. Why didn’t he ever take care of me like that? I can’t watch so I leave and sit outside the classroom. His friend, who is also my friend, comes out to check on me. He lets me cry on his shoulder while I wonder why I couldn’t be loved by him like that. And then I wake up.

We’re not in Brooklyn anymore.

Raft

By Kathryn Lee

It started as mundanely as anything else. My mother was taking a shower in the bathroom.

I could hear the water gurgling through the pipes, the drops pelting the plastic curtain as I burrowed into the blankets on the bed we shared. My mother has never cared about textures. Her bedsheets then, as they still are now, are made of thin polyester. Bare skin, like the kind exposed by short-sleeved and short-legged pajamas, constantly slides against the sheets. The further I burrowed, the more I slipped and struggled for sleep.

I laid on one cheek and surrendered to the domed ceiling light and its belligerent glow.

Somewhere in the haze — in the rhythm of water drops, in the harsh yellow glow of the light, in the restless scratching of my leg against the sheets — I drifted off. Drifted like a raft flowing downstream, a victim to the heartless waves. I surrendered quietly.

I know what drifting off to sleep feels like. I do it most nights, aided by a hefty dose of melatonin for an indefinite case of insomnia. The line between waking and sleeping, when the latter is done right, is invisible.

This kind of drifting off was different. It was unwilling, unbidden and dramatic. Behind my nose, behind my mouth — where postnasal drip invades amidst spring pollen — there is the sense that everything inside you is shutting down. It is like drowning. No matter how hopeless it is, as you sink deeper and deeper — a cinderblock in the opaque waves — your body makes one last effort to save you. It’s called the instinctive drowning response. Though you are already under the surface — never to be seen again — your body refuses to believe it. Your head snaps back. Your arms flap, akimbo. You die with your eyes facing the cloaked sky, your body wide open and waiting.

I dreamt of something before I drifted. The Power Rangers, I think. Whatever a six-year-old could have dreamt of.

When I came to, I never really came. I remained lost in the haze — the light beating down on me, the distant thunder of the shower.

I was trapped on an exhale. It was like trying to breathe through latex. I screamed for my mother and then realized that nothing had happened. I hadn’t opened my mouth or slid my legs restlessly against the polyester fitted sheet. I’d only thought, intensively and desperately, about calling my mother, and tried to will the action into being. I hadn’t even figured out how to breathe yet.

I don’t dream during these episodes.

Eventually, because I am here and writing this, I figured out how to breathe. Over the years, sleep paralysis — the condition of being frozen after awakening, unable to move your body — has become a companion of mine. Infrequently now, though much more present in my middle and high school years, I have come to regard it as a minor nuisance.

I recognize the murkiness of being awake, the unwilling drifting in after the unwilling drifting off. I take stock of my body, how it’s crunched against the wall on my right side. (It’s always when I’m sleeping on my right side.) I realize I’m not breathing; this, listed last, is of course usually recognized first.

Breathing is still difficult. No matter how many WebMD articles assure me that I’m still breathing throughout a sleep paralysis episode, I will never not feel like Giles Corey, being pressed to death. But over many years and many episodes, I have learned how to breathe — to fancifully envision myself sucking air up through the bottom of my lungs and diaphragm and holding it in the back of my throat. And then exhaling, voluntarily returning to the frozen state from which I started.

The one thing I regret about sleep paralysis: the sleep paralysis demon.

I regret that I don’t have one.

Seeing a sleep paralysis demon, a menacing blob in the dark, is a consequence of the hallucinatory effects of sleep paralysis. While my friends with sleep paralysis assure me I don’t want one, I still feel I’m missing out on a fundamental part of the sleep paralysis experience. I always fall into sleep paralysis when I’m sleeping on my right side; therefore, I’m always facing the wall since all of my beds are pushed up into a corner: an L rotated 90 degrees clockwise. I never get to see my sleep paralysis demon.

I have so many questions. Is it the same demon waiting for me through every episode? Has the same demon been there for me since I was six? Is the demon offended that I’m always paralyzed in the same position, unable to turn my head to give them the attention they clearly deserve? Has the same demon patiently waited for me, for thirteen years, to turn around? And if so, is that why I’ve had more infrequent sleep paralysis episodes, because my demon has finally given up on trying to terrify me?

It’s a sad thought. I’ve lost a lifelong companion I’ve never even seen. I may have to risk all of it again — the terrifying grogginess, the racing heartbeats, the choked breaths — just to see them.

Memories in the Winds

By Yaying Zhao

I never really reminisce much about my great-grandma, but she is my spring. On particularly sunny days, when pollen still works to infiltrate arctic winds, I catch myself expecting a steaming metal plate of transparent-skinned dumplings at the end of the road.

Great-grandma was mostly a label to a face during weddings, reunions and Chinese New Year. As with various immigrants raised on old traditions, her love language was food. Despite the fact that most of our interactions were characterized by her lectures and my glazed eyes, I knew one thing was for sure. Like clockwork, during a span of three weeks sometime between late winter and early spring, she would begin preparing for “fun guo” season. With my mom and grandma, a day would be set aside for dumpling making. The result of that day would always be boxes upon boxes of circular tins piled on top of the mahogany table. The transparent-skinned dumplings were best warm and straight out of the steamer but somehow tasted the same when left sitting out for hours.

When she eventually got too weak with age, the fun guos became yet another tradition lost to time. She passed away a few years after, and I eventually mustered up the courage to ask my mom if she could make some fun guos for me. Although I was presented with a nearly identical-looking plate of dumplings, the first bite told me something was different. While they were still delicious, there was taro where there should have been kohlrabi. The skin also wasn’t as shiny or chewy as the ones from my childhood. I’ve grown accustomed to my mother’s version, but the occasional smell of Callery pear tree blossoms from the NYC streets will always bring me back to the woman who spoke with her mountain of transparent-skinned dumplings.

By Rui Zheng

I dream in anticipation of not being me – r.

My dreams are always a little too real; I wake up disoriented, unable to differentiate memory from imagination.

I’m not someone who mulls over their dreams often — unless they’re particularly outrageous, but that’s rare. My dreamscapes tend to be peaceful, idyllic — located in grassy fields or blocks of a small town. I sit and walk and talk with my friends, one or two or a few, but sometimes I’m alone, and that’s okay too. It’s just a regular day, but so much more beautiful.

I wake up thinking it’s Thursday; I lived Wednesday already. But no, no, I have a class — now! I’m late. The lecture is eerily similar to the one from last night. All that professor’s lectures sound the same. I let my imagined Wednesday slip as my mind merges back into reality.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m gullible, my mind almost dangerously malleable, especially regarding spoken words. Once there are enough degrees of separation between now and then, the past becomes a sort of dreamscape too. In conversation, I wonder:

Did you say this? Did you do this?

Did you?

Did you?

Did you?

Or did my subconscious speak for you all those weeks or months or years before?

In times of extreme stress, my dreamscapes transform into nightmarish, larger-than-life sequences, teetering on the line between terrifying and horrifying. I don’t know how my mind sends tingles throughout my skin at the sight of a spider but manages to stay oddly calm when I’m faced with giant robot earth-wolves intent on destroying the crust on which I stand. And when I’m a mind-reading bird getting mistakenly operated on. And when I’m the subject of an elaborate murder plot involving a pet tiger and ivory stairs. I accept my fate and go along with it all.

Better to have no control at all than to have it and get a front-row seat to the prospect of failure.

People let sleep consume them in order to escape, but my conscious never allows me to rest. My mind works hyperactively, exhausting me preemptively, so all that’s left is the staticky buzz of what I dream to be.

I dream in anticipation of not being me

No Country for Old Men: 50 Things I Learned at Bing

FROM FRIENDS

50. Sometimes you gotta be a lil’ savage.

49. Pay it forward; bless as you’ve been blessed.

Thank you, for 5 years of the Asian Student Union (ASU), for 2 years of the Thai Student Organization (TSO), for 5 years of this wonderful community. I was able to be ASU President, to help create TSO, to unite the community, to become a respectable person, to make friends and most importantly, to be myself.

Dreams is such a fitting theme as all of you reading this were a part of my dream. I never had any high aspirations, but rather my only dream was to be able to sit down, eat, laugh and even drink alongside the people I have met and have come to love. I’m so grateful that my dream has been fulfilled for this chapter of my life, so I’d like to do my part in giving back to you all and pass along as much as I can so you can fulfill your own dreams. Here’s a “50 Things I Learned at Bing,” — inspired by Mike Messina’s “60 Things I Learned at Bing” — passing down the torch once again to the next generation.

48. If you’re close, don’t split a check. Cover for them and have them pay next time; eventually, it should go without saying.

47. Drink with a purpose — to reconnect, to meet, to laugh, whatever.

46. If you need help, ask for help. It can get hard doing it on your own.

45. It’s better to be laughing than stressed, so try your best to take things lightly.

44. Never forget what you put on to other people, when you vent, when you spill, when you confide in, for those that you have done it do pay it back in kindness.

43. The best way to make friends is to treat other people like your friends.

42. It is what it is; learn to accept and reflect.

41. Appreciate life and time together, you never know where time will take you.

FROM LOVE

40. It’s better to be the person who cares more; love and effort realistically comes more from one side, so it’s okay to give everything you can.

39. Learn to love yourself before loving others.

38. Trust others; if trust is broken, it will come back around one way or another.

37. Be honest with yourself and your partner.

36. Don’t forget to meet your own goals in a relationship.

35. Compromise and communicate with your partner.

34. Learn empathy and selflessness; love is about care.

33. Often, hate can come at the same rate that love does, so try your best to spend time focusing on the positives.

32. The harshest reality you may face is that it is sometimes impossible to make others care.

31. Wear your heart on your sleeve; tell the people you love that you love them as much as you can.

FROM ORGANIZATIONS (ORGS)

30. If you can’t find a home, make one.

29. Orgs should strive to be like a circus. It’s important to have people running the show, but it’s equally as important to have clowns.

28. Let people know you as yourself before they know you in any position.

27. Apply to an org with confidence; it should be their loss if they don’t take you. Keep doing your best and be as great as you can be. An org is only a social construct, but you are invaluable.

26. Pay special attention to the oldest members on E-Board and the youngest, as the mix of new and old insight creates amazing ideas.

25. Feasibility checks! Make sure you know how feasible everything you do is and how much you are asking of others.

24. Don’t let one person lead every meeting. Maybe spin a wheel and let the voices of those not normally heard speak.

14 ASIAN OUTLOOK

23. Don’t forget about fronts; choosing communities (whether it be your own E-Board or multicultural, Greek, external orgs, etc.) provides direction, which is essential.

22. Keep org metrics in mind. Re-evaluate your org based on these factors: structure, future proofing, purpose, fun, reputation/respect and innovation/uniqueness (refer to my article from the Fall 2022 issue, “Cultural Organization ABC’s”).

21. Learn to let go at some point. School orgs exist for just four years (or five years in my case, LOL) of your life, but you come away with the interpersonal connections you’ve made along the way, so make time for your friends.

FROM MY LIFE

20. Don’t forget that you wear shoes. If you had to walk barefoot over every rock and piece of dirt every day, it would hurt, so remind yourself of the comforts that you have.

19. Leave your door open if you can, even when others don’t.

18. Life can feel and be hard sometimes or even all the time, but the sun will rise the next day.

17. Give without expecting anything in return. That way, whatever does come to you is a surprise that may feel much sweeter.

16. You have no enemies. Sure, there are people you might not choose to be friends with or those you don’t see eye to eye with, but never choose hate when someone has never done anything to you.

15. Live with no regrets; do everything you want to do.

14. Utilize questions. They can show others that you care about them and may even change a dictatorship into a democracy.

13. Take a lot of walks — alone or with others — be there with your thoughts and process them.

12. Treat yourself to a nice meal once in a while; good food can warm up the soul.

11. Meet people. Everyone’s lives contain millions of hours of content, so you can learn more about who you are and who you want to be by diversifying the type of people you meet.

10. Make eye contact with people from across the room and acknowledge them. We can spend our whole lives feeling like strangers so in those short moments, a smile, a head nod or a wave can go a long way.

9. The happiness in your life stems from the quality of your thoughts, particularly in regards to how well you are able to perceive things and process them.

8. Your words are important — how you say them and what you say impacts the people around you. Slow down and think through how to express yourself if you feel you are overspeaking.

7. Everything is all yours in your life. Don’t compare yourself to others and don’t constantly focus on how they are doing. Be with yourself and see yourself for who you are.

6. Breathe. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Take a second to breathe at every happy moment and every sad moment. Be cognizant of your own breathing.

5. Share your thoughts and ideas as they may be the only things that remain when you’re gone.

FROM MY MOM

4. Call the people you love often; just hearing someone’s voice helps to keep your loved ones from becoming just memories.

3. Love no matter what, no matter how far and no matter how long time has passed. Love overcomes every darkness that you may find yourself in.

FROM MY DAD

2. Do whatever it takes to survive — to pass your classes, to eat, to sleep, to get a job and to be self-sufficient.

1. No matter how hard it gets, try your best to be a good person. Find the definition of what good means to you and it will always pay you back in the long term.

This is written in honor of Alby. For walking me, a random freshman, back to my dorm before I really knew anyone at Bing, thanks for showing me how to be a good role model. I hope I have been able to pass down the kindness you showed me.

Until we meet again, I love you and everyone I’ve been able to meet at Bing. In solidarity, for the last time, Nortee Panpinyo

Late Night Thoughts.

By Fatima Gonzalez

Senior’s Guide to Surviving Bing

Try everything. Don’t let setbacks define you! Everything bad that happens is temporary and only a wrinkle in your entire life. How you jump back from it will change everything for the better before you know it. If you don’t feel right somewhere, that just means the right people and environment [are] waiting for you somewhere else.

Best Place on Campus

ASU Room Greenhouse

My Bed Memorial Courtyard

The Pegasus Statue

Best Food in Binghamton

Los Amigos

Phonomenal

PK Thai

Red Chili

Royals

Maybe CookingKathryn’s How to Survive Going Out Drink Water Pee

Focus on having fun so you don’t crash Learn how to pace yourself Find friends

downtown Pre-game hard If you go out as a group, you go home as a group

Grow up. Just kidding!

“You don’t owe anyone anything” is such an overrated motto. Our generation is so often focused only on ourselves. Enjoy life, but spread love. Be mindful of others. Respect boundaries. Be kind to yourself. Be strong but not cocky. Hate festers like mold on a humid day. It’s ugly, and it brings you down. (Even when you think you’re being subtle, believe me when I say gossip is obvious.) I’m not saying to be nice to every stranger you meet or to forgo your self-preservation, but a little bit of heart goes a long way.

Thank you to our contributers: Hubert Zhou, Celeste Pietrzak, George Lee, Jina Wu, Kathryn Kwon, and Alura Tom