Why I Never Make Wishes

I want my experience to guide me, not undeserved freebies.

Daily writing prompt
What is one thing you would change about yourself?

I never make wishes. Not because I lack desire, or because I am practical in a boring sense, but because I want the arc of my life to emerge from my choices and mistakes, not from a free handout from the universe. A wish, by its nature, is a shortcut. An attempt to acquire a future without traversing the path that shapes the self along the way. I am more interested in that shaping than in the outcome itself.

Neuroscience

Neuroscience gives a strange kind of validation to this intuition. The brain learns most deeply through effort through what researchers call prediction error, the moment when expectation meets reality and the system adapts. Dopamine spikes which respond to effortful achievement serve to reinforce connections in the prefrontal cortex and striatum, helping us encode both skill and memory. If wishes were real, they would bypass that process. In a sense, it deprives the nervous system of experience, its most potent teacher.

Consider the subtle difference between a student who struggles for months to master a piece of music and one who magically acquires the ability with a single wish. Both may be able to play the notes, but only the first has undergone the kind of plasticity that transforms the mind. The hippocampus consolidates memories, the motor cortex refines its output, and the brain’s error-monitoring circuits, especially in the anterior cingulate cortex, learn to adapt. The journey, not the shortcut, builds agency. The wish, however tempting, is neurologically inert. Sorry, Aladdin. It asks nothing and returns nothing of value beyond the superficial.

Philosophy

Philosophically, my aversion to wishing aligns with existentialist thought. Kierkegaard wrote about authentic existence as reliant on decision, risk, and reflection. To hand over the authorship of your future, even symbolically, to some external wish is to abdicate the very process that makes life meaningful. Wishing collapses experience into instant gratification; it divorces outcome from effort, action from responsibility. And the self, stripped of its formative trials, becomes lighter, but also emptier.

Stories like Aladdin illustrate a subtle truth about wishing and effort. Aladdin becomes wealthy, meets the princess, and transforms his life, but only because the narrative allows him access to opportunity. In real life, outcomes are far less generous. Contemporary philosophy and social thought remind us that effort alone does not guarantee escape from suffering. Structural barriers, resources, and circumstance shape who can act on their potential and who remains constrained, no matter how hard they try. Refusing shortcuts or wishes is therefore a personal ethical choice because it shapes the kind of person you become, but it cannot erase the imbalances of reality. What we gain from experience is valuable, but it is never distributed evenly.

Therefore, this is not to romanticize suffering or struggle. I am not advocating for unnecessary pain or the glorification of difficulty. But I do believe that real growth requires living inside the friction of consequence and choice.

Ethics

There is also a subtle ethical dimension. When we wish for unearned advantages, we are implicitly saying that we value our own gain above the discipline of learning or merit. By refusing to wish, I am also, in a small way, refusing to outsource my development to luck. I am committing to a life where reward is proportional to engagement, where consequence is respected, and where experience remains my guide.

The Reality

Sometimes life is harder, slower, and less immediately satisfying than it would be if wishes were real. I miss opportunities that might have arrived on a whim. I watch others take shortcuts and sometimes envy their efficiency.

And yet, I want my story written in synapses that were built in response to challenge, not circumstantial fortune. I want my character shaped by choices that left a mark both on my mind and on my life. The wish tempts me with speed, but I choose depth. I choose learning. I choose experience.

Because in the end, it is experience, not magic, that teaches us who we are.


Written by Mason Lai, a California high schooler.

Should We Erase Painful Memories? The Neuroscience Behind Memory Editing

Quick Shot/ Shutterstock
Memory-editing research is advancing fast. But removing our pain may also remove the person we became because of it.

There’s a question that keeps surfacing in neuroscience labs and ethical journals alike:
If we had the power to soften or erase painful memories, should we?

Researchers already know how to disrupt memory reconsolidation, which is the process by which a recalled memory becomes flexible before being stored again. Beta-blockers like propranolol have been shown to dampen the emotional intensity of traumatic recall in PTSD patients. Optogenetics experiments in mice have altered fear memories by re-tagging them with different emotional associations. Even human trials are exploring noninvasive stimulation to interrupt unwanted memories during sleep.

We are, quietly, entering an age where pain is editable.

But the more I read about these findings, the more a different question forms underneath the scientific one. Not Can we edit memory? But What happens to the self if we do?

The Problem with a Pain-Free Self

Memory is a fragile process, forever rewriting itself. Every time we remember something, we alter it slightly. Neuroscientists call this reconsolidation, but even without jargon, most of us know the feeling: a memory that once hurt becomes softer; another becomes sharper for reasons we can’t explain.

This plasticity is what makes memory-editing plausible, but it’s also what makes identity complicated. A life without painful memory might be easier, but would it still be yours?

Where Identity Lives

One of the more haunting ideas in cognitive science is that memory is less about accuracy and more about coherence. Rather than storing experiences like files; we reconstruct them to match who we believe we are now. The philosopher Daniel Dennett once suggested that the self is the “center of narrative gravity”, like a stabilizing illusion that helps us make sense of flux.

If that’s true, altering memory, scarily enough, changes the storyteller as much as the story itself.

A person who erases the memory of a betrayal becomes someone who never had to learn trust again.
A person who erases the memory of failure becomes someone without the quiet resolve that follows.
A person who erases grief becomes someone untouched by the shape love leaves behind.

One thing I continue to wonder is whether the edited self still be continuous with the original, or if the break in memory creates a break in identity too.

The Ethics of “Improvement”

There’s a moral seduction in self-editing. We are obsessed with optimization. Think better bodies, better habits, better productivity, everything in modern life. Why not better memories?

We know how important pain is, though. The fear of loss teaches us to hold people closer, and failure teaches us resilience. Even the most painful moments, those we’d give anything to erase, become part of how we find meaning again.

Neuroscientist Karim Nader, one of the pioneers of reconsolidation research, once said that memory’s primary function, surprisingly, is not to preserve facts, but to help us adapt. By that logic, even painful memories are functional. They help us navigate danger by recognizing patterns.

So when we “improve” ourselves by removing them, we risk becoming someone optimized, perhaps, but hollowed, a self that is easier to carry but harder to recognize.

The Risk of Losing the Lessons Without the Pain

The most compelling counterargument to memory-editing is not that it’s unnatural or reckless. It’s that we might remove the pain without keeping the wisdom.

In one study at NYU, rats whose fear memories were disrupted no longer avoided dangerous cues. They walked into places where they had once been shocked, oblivious to the threat. When we erase hurt, we erase the part of ourselves that learned how to endure.

A Different Kind of Healing

This isn’t an argument against treatment. For example, PTSD is more than just a memory; PTSD is a nervous system in overdrive, a life paused inside an unrelenting moment. In this case, damping the emotional intensity of those memories is more a form of liberation.

The ethical line appears not at the removal of unbearable pain, but at the removal of meaningful pain, a subtle difference.

So, scientific interventions can help us loosen trauma’s grip, but perhaps they should not offer us amnesia.

What We Stand to Lose

Every once in a while, when I think about memory alteration, I imagine a version of myself who never had to rebuild after loss. Someone lighter, less afraid, unburdened.

But that person would not know why loyalty matters, they would not understand the texture of fear or the softness that follows grief, and they would not know the cost of love. They would be me without the evidence that I have lived.

Maybe the Goal Isn’t Erasure

The goal is not to extract a memory as if it were a stain that can be lifted. Perhaps the goal is to reinhabit it in a new way, so that its emotional weight is redistributed and its meaning evolves rather than disappears. To reshape the experience without erasing the fact that it occurred.

Neuroscience may eventually offer the ability to select what we carry forward. Yet meaning is something we craft through engagement, not something we inherit passively or delete at will. The self grows through reinterpretation, revision, and integration, not through subtraction.

So, Is a Life Without Painful Memory Better?

It might be simpler, or lighter, but what makes a life whole is rarely what makes it easy. Pain itself is not the adversary. What harms us is the sense of being imprisoned by it, unable to move beyond its earliest form.

A life without painful memory may shield us from suffering, but one shaped through painful memory gives rise to everything that matters.

Most of us live somewhere between those two possibilities. We carry moments that hurt but keep learning how to carry them differently. In that ongoing process, memory acts as a teacher, and the self becomes something we build rather than something we escape.

That is where the story, no matter how tragic, ends, and growth begins.


Written by Mason Lai, a California high schooler.

Ingredients for Your Perfect Day, Backed by Neuroscience

Your perfect schedule is already built in to your brain, here’s how to find it.

Ever wonder what a perfect day would look like if your brain actually cooperated? As a student, I’ve spent countless mornings staring at my planner, wondering how to get everything done without going crazy. Between lectures, homework, and the never-ending influx of notifications, it often feels impossible to stay focused or energized. Luckily, neuroscience has some surprisingly practical answers, tools and insights you can actually use to design a day that works with your brain, not against it.

Sleep: The Non-Negotiable Starter

Your neurons are night-shift workers. They do not take coffee breaks. Deep sleep is when your brain consolidates memory, prunes connections, and basically declutters itself. Skipping it is like trying to run your laptop with twenty tabs open and battery at 10%. For students, this means late-night cramming is usually self-defeating. Your brain might get the homework done but it will forget half of it by tomorrow. I know it’s hard, but please aim for 7-9 hours and try to stick to a consistent schedule. Your future self will thank you.

Timing Matters

Your brain does not operate at full power all day. For most people, mornings are best for focus-heavy tasks like writing essays or solving math problems. Afternoons are better for lower-stakes or social tasks because your alertness naturally dips. Evenings, surprisingly, are when creativity peaks, making it the perfect time for brainstorming, art, or revising your philosophy blog. Mapping your most important tasks to your brain’s natural rhythms is like scheduling meetings with your most demanding client, which happens to be yourself.

Work in Bursts

Attention is a finite resource. The brain has ultradian rhythms, cycles of about 90-120 minutes of high alertness followed by a dip. Working for long stretches without a break is like driving a car without refueling. Try focusing for 25-50 minutes, then take a 5-10 minute break. Walk around, stretch, or just stare out the window. Your neurons actually perform better when given a pit stop.

Tiny Wins and Dopamine

Dopamine is the brain’s reward molecule. It helps you pay attention, remember things, and feel good while doing them. Checking your phone releases dopamine, which is why it’s so addictive. You can hack the system by rewarding yourself for small accomplishments. Finish a paragraph or send an important email, then treat yourself to a song or a snack. These micro-rewards keep motivation high without falling into the trap of procrastination disguised as productivity.

Flow Is Your Friend

Contrary to popular belief, your brain cannot multitask. It can only switch attention quickly, leaving a trail of incomplete thoughts. Flow happens when your skill level matches the challenge in front of you. That sweet spot where time disappears is the perfect zone for productivity. Batch similar tasks, eliminate notifications, and dive in without guilt. Flow loves focus, and your brain will thank you with higher quality work and less stress.

Move Your Body

Even a 10-minute walk or a few stretches trigger brain-derived neurotrophic factor, or BDNF. This protein helps neurons grow and stay flexible. Movement literally helps your brain work better. Try walking to class, stretching between study sessions, or even dancing in your room. It’s scientifically proven to reduce stress while boosting energy.

Reflect and Reset

Reflection is where your brain consolidates memory, processes mistakes, and primes itself for tomorrow. Journaling, meditating, or just mentally replaying the day helps you learn from experience. 5 minutes of reflection at the end of the day can provide actionable insights and make tomorrow feel a little less chaotic.

The Takeaway

A perfect day is not about cramming more hours into your schedule or pretending to be a productivity robot. It is about designing your environment, your tasks, and your mindset around how your brain actually works. Sleep, flow, movement, timing, rewards, and reflection are the ingredients. Layer them thoughtfully and your day becomes less of a struggle and more of a rhythm. With a little planning and a lot of understanding of your own brain, students (like you and me) can actually make each day feel productive, energizing, and maybe even a little magical.

You got this! Now go take the steps, no matter how small, to achieve your goals!

Written by Mason Lai, a California high schooler.

Razumihin’s Wisdom from Crime and Punishment

“I am a man because I err! You never reach any truth without making fourteen mistakes and very likely a hundred and fourteen… To go wrong in one’s own way is better than to go right in someone else’s. In the first case you are a man, in the second you’re no better than a bird.”

-Razumihin, Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, Constance Garnett Translation

Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. Crime and Punishment. Translated by Constance Garnett, The Macmillan Company, 1914.

Senior Year Crunch Time: The Final Stretch

Daily writing prompt
What have you been working on?
If you’ve been wondering what I’ve been up to lately, here’s the honest answer: college applications.

That’s it. That’s the post.

Okay, not really. But it certainly feels that way. Every day’s been a mix of writing essays, editing essays, thinking about essays, and then trying to remember what I was like as a human before essays existed.


What It’s Taught Me

Weirdly, the process has made me more organized than I’ve ever been. I’ve learned how to actually manage time. It’s an improvement over just making to-do lists that never end. I’ve learned how to tell my own story in a way that feels authentic instead of trying to sound impressive.

And I’ve learned that writing about yourself is harder than any AP class.


The Reality Check

It’s not glamorous. There are nights when I’m staring at my computer at 1 a.m. avoiding cliché words or phrases like the plague. There are days when I want to throw my laptop out the window.

But then there are also those small wins: when a sentence finally clicks, or when a teacher or friend gives you a pep talk.


Why It’s Worth It

Somewhere between the drafts and the deadlines, I’ve realized this isn’t just about getting into a school. It’s about slowing down and figuring out who I actually am when no one’s grading me for it.

So yeah. That’s what I’ve been working on.
A lot of writing.
A lot of reflecting.
And a lot of tea.

Hey friend, be empty of worrying.

“Be empty of worrying. Think of who created thought. Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open?”
Rumi

Hey friend, before you jump to the next thing on your list, before you check your phone again, let’s pause here together for a moment. You don’t need to fix anything right now. You don’t need to figure it all out. Just this breath, just this second, is enough.

The world moves fast, and it feels like you have to move just as fast. But right now, you get to rest. Notice your breath. Feel your body. Look around. Even for a minute, you are allowing your mind and heart to catch up.

This is mindfulness without effort. It’s a reminder that you don’t need a perfect meditation routine or a quiet room to be present. Every small pause counts. Every second you give yourself is a gift.

When you’re ready, you can go back to your day. But take a piece of this calm with you. The world can wait a little longer, and your mind will thank you for it.

Until next time.

How Multitasking Is Rewiring Your Brain (And Not in a Good Way)

Think multitasking makes you more productive? Think again. Here’s how switching between tasks is rewiring your brain, lowering focus, and raising stress (and how you can fix it, too).

Let’s be honest.

You probably have five tabs open right now. Maybe a podcast is playing in the background. Maybe you’re half-texting someone.

It feels like you’re getting a lot done, right? Like you’re maximizing your time.
But here’s the truth: multitasking isn’t helping you. It’s actually training your brain to lose focus, remember less, and crave constant distraction.

Let’s unpack that quickly.


The Multitasking Myth

You’re not really multitasking. You’re task-switching. Every time you jump from one thing to another, your brain has to pause and reset.

Those tiny switches might only take a second, but they add up. Research shows that constant task-switching can slash productivity by up to 40%.

It’s like trying to run a marathon while stopping to tie your shoes every ten seconds.


What It’s Doing to Your Brain

Here’s where it gets wild. Multitasking physically changes your brain.

  • Less gray matter: Brain scans show that people who multitask a lot have less gray matter in the part of the brain responsible for focus and emotional control.
  • Worse memory: You’re training your mind to chase what’s new instead of digging deep into what matters.
  • More stress: Jumping between tasks keeps your brain in “fight or flight” mode. Cortisol (your stress hormone) stays high, and that drains your energy fast.

So yes, multitasking might make you feel busy, but it’s also reshaping your brain in ways that make it harder to focus later.


How To Reboot Your Focus

Good news is, your brain can rewire itself back.

Try these simple fixes:

  1. Do one thing at a time. Close your extra tabs. Finish a task completely before moving to the next one.
  2. Batch your distractions. Set times to check texts or emails instead of reacting all day long.
  3. Practice deep work. Start with 20 minutes of uninterrupted focus. Add time as your brain adjusts.
  4. Let yourself be bored. Boredom isn’t bad. It’s where creativity and clarity show up.

The Bottom Line

Multitasking isn’t a badge of honor. It’s a brain trap.
The more you split your attention, the more your brain adapts to distraction.

If you want to think clearly, remember more, and actually finish what you start, then do one thing at a time.

Your brain will thank you later.