Author Archives: monica.malviya

Hello Professor Gunderson,

Regarding the response paper due Tuesday, did you intend for us to use the reading listed on the syllabus for that day or are we to use the movie we watched in class in order to answer the question?

-Monica Malviya

It’s such a paradox, how this is simple yet difficult all at once. At first glance, I’m quiet, an introvert: reserved. You will be shaking hands, exchanging smiles, initiating small-talk and I’ll just be sitting here, eyes transfixed on a spot in the room yet hearing everything. No, that’s not eavesdropping…I hope. Well, that’s at first glance. Get me to talk and I’ll have worlds of stuff to say. I’d call myself a Pandora’s box though not nearly as bad. At least I hope, I guess that’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it? I’m not afraid of being judged, because (and c’mon, we all know this one) I’m still going to be me. Who is “me”? Who am I? I’m a friend who never lets go and keeps forgiving. I’m a student who thirsts for knowledge and remains dedicated. I’m a daughter who does her utmost to make her parents proud. I’m a sister who will always give her brother someone to look up to. I’m a person, I’m many things.

Being a freshman is in and of itself a concern — to be at the bottom of the food-chain. Seniority in high school was the most ethereal experience ever. Ethereal yet ephemeral, as is this state of being a freshman. Out of it, however, comes the concern of “fitting in” while maintaining who I am. Look at me, it’s 12:17am and here I am writing this post because I did what? Procrastinated. That was a major concern of mine and it still is. I want to sleep though I end up doing this to myself. However it’s not so bad since I love to write, just as I love to talk. I wasn’t joking when I said I have a lot to say. Where was I? Oh. Procrastination. Yeah. I’m fighting that to the best of my ability. Don’t worry, I’ll come through.

A lot about Baruch makes it different from high school for me. The independence especially is something I value. I adore this concept of homework not being due the very next day from which it is assigned and whomever brought up the idea of syllabi, well, allow me to say that, you sir (or madam), are brilliant. Information is no longer crammed into my head from having ten subjects in one day; I take my time with the readings given, begin early, and absorb it all. It’s better this way. Though I’ll never deny how much I miss high school.

Will college change me? Change is inevitable, right? I have no idea how it will though. In my last year — no, last term – of high school, I went through some major changes in my life. Anyone who knew me say, first term senior year, took a vacation, then met me at the end of second term, wouldn’t recognize me right away. However college changes me, I can only hope it’s for the better.

One practice missed.
Catch.
Move.
Breathe — careful! She’s right behind you.
Move. Right. Dribble. Left. Dribble. Repeat. Crossover. Eyes, use your eyes! She moved. Your right! Fake to the right. Pivot, make sure it’s sharp.
Breathe.
Maya, she’s on your left. Step. Dribble. Step. Pass.
Got it.
Don’t stand there admiring it, loser, MOVE!
Cut. You’re open. Eyes. Catch.
Shoot. Wait a second.
Breathe.
Shoot!
In. Repeat.

Number 22 of the Stuyvesant Phoenix. Power forward. Speed, endurance, aggression: all are necessary to uphold the position.
Arrogance…was it needed? To a certain extent.
After being the top scorer for three consecutive games, number 22 overflowed with arrogance.
Practice? Why? They need it, she doesn’t.

Two practices missed.

Next game.
Coach? Just a warning.
Whistle starts and ends it.
15 points, number 22 on top again.

Third practice missed.

Next game, Townsend Harris. A rival.
Coach? Benched.
Watch. Only wat, with bated breath.
No! Audrey! Pass it back! Don’t shoot! She can’t run as fast!
Number 22 needs to play.
Coach? No. Benched.
Game lost. Pride shot. Arrogance grew.

Fourth practice missed.

Thanksgiving break, 2008. Practice at home? No. Doesn’t matter. She knows it…how to win.
Back to school. Townsend rematch.
Off the bench.
Caoch? She liked winning, too.

Build the arrogance.

Game 25-23, them. 44 seconds.
Number 22′s locked by defense. Townsend number 96: a stubborn one.
22 cuts. Blocked. Cuts. Blocked. Cut. Cut. Cut.
Barely breathing.
Maya passes. 22 catches.
Dribble. Stop. NO. Why stop?! Dammit. Shoot or pass.
Pass means certain tie, Audrey’s open with a good shot. Shoot means the best comeback ever.
Arrogance.
She shoots. She missed.

She didn’t breathe.