There are times when the world just feels overwhelming. There’s this persistent desire to stay informed — to keep up with current events, to understand what’s happening beyond my own small universe. But opening the news now elicits a familiar sinking feeling. Another headline about human rights being rolled back. Another policy undoing years of climate progress. Another reminder of democracy eroding in broad daylight while a billionaire purges a newsroom in the name of ‘efficiency.’
All of this is a lot to hold alongside my own, admittedly self-interested, anxieties. There’s a clock ticking in the background of my mind reminding me that I’m supposed to have a summer internship lined up, even though I’m constantly told I don’t have enough experience — I’m left wondering how I’m supposed to get experience without being given a chance. I think about whether the career I’m working toward will even exist in ten years, as automation and AI creep further into creative and entry-level fields. And somewhere in between that spiral are midterms, deadlines and the expectation that I keep performing normally.
And yes, it is important to be aware of the events occurring around us — to resist feeling numb and desensitized to violence and authoritarianism and to allow anger to fuel action. But I’ve also recognized that hope and art and excitement are necessary fuel to keep on going, to keep on living and resisting. Through this column, I’m hoping to train my mind to see the good. When you start to recognize it somewhere, you’ll notice it starts to pop up everywhere.
So, welcome to The Bright Side, where I’ll tell you about something exciting going on, some beautiful piece of art or music, positive climate news or uplifting stories I witness or experience. Consider it a breath of fresh air from midterms or the president’s latest remark.
For today, I want to talk about something we all should be excited about: the Winter Olympics!
Next week, I’ll be traveling with my family to Milan to see one of my childhood friends, Olympic figure skater Alysa Liu, compete in the Olympics. You might recognize her from your Instagram feed as the ‘alt’ figure skater proudly showing off her freshly-bleached halo hair and smiley piercing, confidently redefining what it looks like to be a figure skater in 2026.
We grew up skating together, starting at the age of six. She was a child prodigy. At age 13, she was the youngest women’s figure skater to win the U.S. Figure Skating Championships title as well as the youngest female skater to land a triple axel in the competition. But I knew her simply as Alysa: my friend who would play tag with me on and off the ice, doing the best we could to evade scolds from our coach. Whoever took off their skates the fastest was ‘it.’
I moved away in middle school, and I wasn’t there to witness her career unfold leading up to the Beijing 2022 Winter Olympics or her retirement shortly after. I didn’t see how training in isolation during the pandemic affected her, or the toll of being flown from city to city, coach to coach, competition to competition, often without much say. She needed a break — a space to explore herself without being defined by her sport.
After some time away from skating to enjoy her teenage years, she realized she missed her sport. In 2024, she came back from retirement, this time clear that she would be in charge of her decisions and her career. She chose her music, her costume, her hair. And now she stands on the ice with a sense of authenticity that feels unshakeable.
The last time I saw her was this past spring when she came to Boston to compete in (and win) the World Figure Skating Championships. This was the exact same Alysa I remembered from elementary school — the girl from Disneyland trips and sleepovers, just with different hair and a new piercing. We got udon and walked around Boston, talking about our favorite films, college life and random updates, as if she didn’t have to compete the next day. I asked if she was nervous. She said not at all.
I aspire for that kind of self-assuredness. Not rooted in ego or bravado, but in a genuine lack of pressure.
She once told me she only competes because it gives her an excuse to skate every day. It’s the joy of skating that fuels her.
You might’ve seen that at a recent team competition, Alysa was delayed behind JD Vance’s motorcade. Already running late, gathering her belongings last-minute (very classically Alysa), she arrived at the arena with only minutes before her short program. And still, she skated a practically clean routine, placing second. On the ice, she looked so genuinely free. She smiled at the slow-motion replay of her wobbly double axel. I can almost hear her inner monologue — laughter, maybe a ‘whoops!’
I’m not sharing this to say, ‘I’m friends with an Olympian!’ I’m sharing it to illuminate the power of authenticity — and the relief that comes from releasing some of the pressure we place on ourselves.
What’s the point of contorting ourselves for external validation when we might perform stronger simply by being who we are?
It’s something I’m learning from Alysa, even now. How to take some of the pressure off. How to stand firm in my beliefs. How to express myself in ways that feel true.
Maybe that’s the bright side today: remembering that even in a world that feels heavy, we’re still allowed joy. So this week, I’m trying to channel my inner Alysa. To laugh a little more, smile a little easier and not take everything so seriously all the time — even when JD Vance’s motorcade is in the way.
