Author: Chia Amisola

Making the choice of technology

A reflection on how I knew I wanted to go into technology since I was a young girl, and why I’m not so sure of that career path anymore. I’ve been having a bad job hunt. It is so bad that I feel like I’m genuinely in the worst state of mind I have ever been in, am dissociating more often, and feel like my self-improvement is simply feeding into this slate that has already run past its time. Lately, I’ve been joking and telling people that I should just become a music journalist. I am likely better at writing than I am at design, though I’m really not too good at either. It seems like I know as much about the music industry than I do the design one, and it feels like I have a perspective to share about it. It feels like it’s something I genuinely want to do. This of course, won’t happen–but it’s sincerely the first time that something has even been at a stage for consideration and commitment: that you know, this is impractical and just as impossible to break into–but given the miracle, I wouldn’t mind doing it for the rest of my life. I think I know why. When I was a young girl, I already knew that I was going to enter the field of technology. I just feared saying it. Like many isolated kids, I spent most of my growing up online. I built things by hand, learning how to code by copy-pasting source codes and fighting with people on chatboxes over the legitimacy of the content I worked on. (I distinctly remember a sixteen-year-old with a WordPress website and domain angered at my offering of four different Pokemon website layouts repurposed from some site’s free website structure. A week later I sat down and learned how to absolutely position my own layout, measuring things with shapes and pixels on Photoshop.) It’s not a new problem for there to be so few ways to explain why this sense of living is so meaningful to me, and how it’s still difficult to describe. I don’t know how to quite explain the impact talking to strangers everyday, losing innocence and making dozens of friends that I sometimes still remember idly had on me. I was wasting time but also consuming the world. I was not outside, I was in this greater, moreMore?

POST Adolescence

I frequently forget that when Will Toledo released Twin Fantasy, he was the age I am today. At nineteen and in college, a lull in life that I can’t characterize with anything but the feeling of being outcast and past my prime–my fears all center around whether I have already been at my most prolific.

A Suspension

but the lord was not in a fire There are always two sides to it. Some describe it as the falling and then the terror of the flames, inextricably impossible to actually understand unless you are right there: no matter how many times we have seen this unravel on television. Or in the moment before it, another writes, is a lifelong struggle with our body–the only vessel that we must live with for our entire lives. Here, it’s as simple as crumbs on teeth, a self-induced fear of eating, and how in essence, it is just as easy to wipe ourselves from the face of the earth as with a wrapped, store-bought craving. The ability to erase ourselves does not ever diminish our lived lives. If anything, it adds value to it. If we were brought into an ephemeral, dying world without choice then temporary goodness is what we must do. The acceptance of this is integral to the act. During the first week of my freshman year at Yale, and precisely a day after I first settled in early in the dormitories at Vanderbilt Hall it happened (I was there early for the international student orientation; I came out of it with no friends that I still speak with until this day). I was lying on the Twin XL bed, feeling myself spilled out on it; getting used to an indentation and hum in the basement that would mark my next ten months on this campus. Then, I heard footsteps and a loud knocking on my door with a member of Yale Police stepping in and asking me if I was okay. She was very sure that I might have intended to kill myself that night. In around late 2019, I began thinking intensely about whether my coming to America had been my biggest mistake. On this space in the internet, for so many years, I’ve fawned and talked about how I lifted myself up–out of depression, out of fawning over the piano, out of revelations in school trips–and it had all led to my becoming. Now, I am more understanding; I do not bear knowledge of everything, but have given myself the counsel of empathy. It might be hard for you to believe, but talking to people is easy. It’s staying interested that’s the hard part. That I am fine with my voice filling rooms and memories, butMore?