Reflecting on 2024

Foreword

Last year, I ended 2023 with a reflection of sorts. I wrote about my biggest lessons, things that went well and things I could've done better, and my outlook on 2024. This introspection was instrumental towards my personal growth and is something I intend to do indefinitely. Last year, I kept this reflection private.

If there's anything I've learnt in 2024, it's that you should build in public. This comes in part due to the idea of luck surface area—the concept that luck is a multivariate function of doing and telling—an idea largely associated with network effects. To put it simply, from now on, I'll be writing publicly to document my journey and share my thoughts. Maybe, it'll lead to unexpected opportunities, connections, and ideas that wouldn't have been possible otherwise.

Moreover, I'm inspired by the likes of Alexey Guzey, Paul Graham, Tim Urban, and the countless other blogs that I've digested in the past twelve months. They have largely shaped much of my current mindset.

If anything, I hope this reflection imparts some of the little wisdom I have. Frankly, I don't take much of my own advice, so consider this a warning if you're looking to learn anything from reading this.

And, perhaps more selfishly, I'm writing to keep myself accountable—I can't write if I don't do anything.

On growth, consistency, and intention

2024 was a year of growth. Looking back, I see it not just in the milestones I achieved, but in the challenges I chose to face. Growth doesn’t come from comfort; it comes from doing things that scare you, things that stretch your abilities and force you to confront your limits.

This year, I took CS 145, and it was probably the hardest course I’ve ever taken. This should scare me—every advanced course from here will only get harder. But it pushed me to think algorithmically, to approach problems with rigor, and to understand computer science in a formal and abstract context. There were moments when I felt completely out of my depth, but in hindsight, I have no regrets. The struggle was worth it because it taught me how to think, how to persevere, and how to learn deeply.

Throughout high school and even prior, I've always tried to find the "easy way out". The shortcut. I treated much of life, especially school, as a convex optimization problem—maximizing grades while minimizing effort for instance.

I’ve realized that taking courses or pursuing paths simply because they offer "easy grades" or quick rewards is orthogonal to my goals. I am optimizing for the wrong things. True growth requires embracing difficulty and stepping into the unknown—not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. The harder the challenge, the greater the opportunity to learn and expand.

You can’t expect extraordinary results from ordinary actions. Doing things that scare you, things that test your limits, is what separates meaningful progress from stagnation. Whether it was in academics, personal projects, or even pushing myself physically, 2024 taught me the value of effort paired with intention. I am a better person for it.

On comparison

I've always struggled with comparing myself to others. In part, this stems from an almost irrational need to compete. To have the best grades, to secure the most prestigious internships, to outperform wherever possible, to "win".

Time and time again, I ask myself: "Why is this?" I've come to the realization that I am driven by an underlying fear of inadequacy. I've always told myself that my greatest fear is being average. This mindset has often made external validation feel like the ultimate measure of success.

For much of the start of Grade 12, I was torn between computer science and health science—with the intention of chasing medical school. In hindsight, the idea that I initially struggled with this decision seems almost absurd. I have been coding since third grade, and programming has been an integral part of my life. Yet, I felt drawn to health science because it seemed more "impressive", more socially validated. The prestige associated with becoming a doctor felt like a surefire way to avoid mediocrity and to prove my worth to others.

I reinforced my beliefs by telling myself that I was good at memorization—that I would excel in medical school, that I had the discipline to handle the rigorous workload, and that my abilities made me a natural fit. I convinced myself that this path was logical, even though deep down, it wasn’t something that truly excited me. I wasn’t drawn to the day-to-day realities of a medical career. Instead, I was chasing the external validation and status associated with the title of "doctor".

Even within my choice to pursue CS at Waterloo, I can't help but notice how often I fall into the same patterns. The "Cali or Bust" mentality at Waterloo has a way of taking over. It feels like a benchmark for success that everyone around me is striving for, and it's hard not to get caught up in the frenzy.

The idea that my worth as a computer science student might somehow be measured by whether I end up at a "prestigious" firm is both motivating and deeply draining. I find myself constantly comparing my progress to others: who has the most impressive projects, who got the best internships, who is ahead in preparing for technical interviews. It’s as though there’s an invisible leaderboard, and I’m always trying to climb higher.

This mindset is a double-edged sword. Tangentially, I believe that labelling most things as "good" or "bad" is a false dichotomy. I don't think there is anything inherently wrong with the mindset maximizing effort and focus in the relentless pursuit of greatness.

However, the problem arises when this pursuit becomes all-consuming—when every step forward feels insufficient because it’s immediately compared to someone else’s success.

I’ve come to realize that the relentless pursuit of greatness must be balanced with self-compassion and perspective. While I value ambition and hard work, I’m learning to appreciate that success isn’t defined by geography or the brand name on my resume. This isn’t a mindset I’ve mastered yet, but it’s something I’m working on every day: to strive ambitiously while remaining grounded in what genuinely matters to me.

On ego, humility, and authenticity

It's only fitting that I follow the previous section with a dedicated rumination on ego as a whole. Ego is, in many ways, the root of both ambition and comparison. It whispers that success is a finite resource, that every achievement by someone else somehow diminishes your own.

Throughout this year, I’ve become more aware of how my ego shapes my actions and thoughts. When I feel the sting of someone else’s success, it’s often my ego interpreting their accomplishment as a personal failure. When I chase opportunities primarily for the recognition they bring, it’s my ego that craves the applause.

Yet, ego isn’t inherently "bad"—just as ambition isn’t. In fact, it can be a powerful motivator, pushing us to set high standards and pursue our goals with intensity.

The truth is that prior to 2023, I carried much of an inferiority complex. I often felt that no matter how hard I worked, I wasn’t quite measuring up. Whether it was academics, extracurriculars, or personal achievements, I saw myself as perpetually falling short of others’ expectations—or worse, my own. In 2023, this sense of inadequacy, ironically, fuelled my ego. It became a defence mechanism, convincing me that if I could just outwork, outperform, or outshine others, I could silence the doubts I held about myself. It led to an overcompensation that, looking back, probably made me insufferable. I was so focused on proving my worth that I often failed to consider how my actions and attitude might have come across to others.

In 2024, I’ve tried to break this cycle—not by suppressing my ego entirely, but by understanding it. I’ve realized that the ego’s whispers about success being finite are a distortion. Someone else’s accomplishment doesn’t diminish my own; if anything, it’s a reminder of what’s possible. This shift in perspective has been liberating.

At the same time, I’ve been learning to separate my self-worth from my achievements. I no longer want to pursue goals solely for the applause they might bring. Instead, I aim to focus on what genuinely excites and fulfills me, even if those pursuits don’t always come with external validation. It’s a work in progress, but the more I let humility and authenticity guide me, the less power my ego holds over my decisions and sense of self-worth.

On agency

Agency, I've realized, is about taking control of my narrative and owning my decisions—not just the big, life-altering ones, but the small, everyday choices that define how I live and grow. This year, I've thought a lot about what it means to act with intention and to take responsibility for where I'm heading.

For much of my life, I often felt like I was simply following a script—doing what was expected, whether it was excelling in academics, taking part in extracurriculars, or pursuing opportunities that aligned with what others considered "prestigious". While there’s nothing wrong with hard work or ambition, I began to question how much of my drive came from what I genuinely wanted versus what I thought I should want.

Choosing computer science over health science was one of the first big moments where I asserted my agency. It was a choice I made not because it impressed others, but because it aligned with my passion and long-term goals. Since then, I’ve been trying to apply that same intentionality to every aspect of my life.

Agency also means recognizing that I won’t always have control over everything—but I do have control over how I respond. Whether it’s facing setbacks, like a disappointing grade or a rejection, or some unexpected challenge, I’ve tried to remind myself that I have the power to learn and adapt.

My favourite quote from the year is "you can just do things." Agency is the realization that you can just do things. From David Perell:

Being high agency is independent of the quality of the output itself—in fact, an obsession with quality is often a convenient excuse for those who would otherwise be able to create singular things. Just go and do things.

I'm looking forward to continuing to just do things in 2025.

On people and character

This year has reminded me what humanity really is. Humanity is not found in accomplishments or accolades—it is found in people. Whether through fleeting interactions or deep, lasting relationships, the people we surround ourselves with influence our values, our aspirations, and even how we view ourselves.

I’ve come to appreciate the importance of seeking out individuals who challenge and inspire me—friends, mentors, and peers who embody qualities I admire and who push me to grow. At the same time, I’ve realized that character isn’t about striving to please everyone, but about standing firm in my beliefs while remaining open to growth.

In reflecting on this, I am often reminded of Marcus Aurelius’ wisdom:

Be strict with yourself and tolerant with others.

This principle has pushed me to hold myself accountable to my own standards while offering grace and understanding to those around me.

Character, as it is often described, is what we do when we think no one is looking. It’s in the small, unseen decisions. The choice to stay honest when it’s inconvenient, to help someone without expecting anything in return, to forgive. These moments define who we truly are, and they shape how we connect with others.

The moments that stand out to me this year aren’t just about what I accomplished, but about the people I shared them with. Studying at Angus Glen with my high school friends until the library closed, goofing around during orientation week, all the poker nights, and so much more.

I’m grateful for all the people I’ve met this year, and all the people I’ve continued to grow alongside. Each interaction has left its mark on me. The new connections have challenged my line of thinking, while the enduring ones have provided support, encouragement, and a sense of belonging. These relationships, both old and new, have been instrumental in shaping who I am and reminding me of the importance of connection in building character.

I’m equally grateful for the people whom I’ve drifted apart from. Though our paths may have diverged, the moments we shared and the lessons they brought remain with me. Sometimes, letting go is just as valuable as holding on.

Character, I’ve come to realize, is as much about how we treat others as it is about personal achievements. It's about being empathetic and realizing that it's everyone's first time in life too, with all its uncertainties and challenges. And the more I strive to embody these qualities, the more I find myself surrounded by people who reflect them back.

Outlook for 2025

For countless reasons, 2024 was the best year of my life. It was a year of growth, challenge, and relationships, filled with moments that pushed me out of my comfort zone and shaped the person I am today.

I'm truly excited for what's to come next year. This comes with the caveat that I'm careful not to make any predictions on how life will be like in [x] months from now. Every six months, I hardly recognize the person I was half a year ago. Regardless, out of an innate curiosity and hopefulness amidst uncertainty, I'll provide some speculation on some of my goals for 2025:

• Just do things. Do things without overthinking the outcome. Do things for the sake of learning, for the sake of exploring new possibilities. Do things because the act of doing is often more valuable than the result itself.

• Continue to grind LeetCode. Lately, I've been solving problems out of a love for problem-solving—rather than a mindless pursuit of technical interview ability. I hope this isn't short-lived.

• Learn as much as I can. At the moment, I'm interested in probability, luck, finance, and uncertainty.

• Improve my time management. Something I didn’t mention is that I had much more free time this year than I initially realized. Yet, despite having the space to accomplish more, I often found myself slipping into unproductive habits or spending too much time on low-priority tasks.

• Participate in as many hackathons as I can.

• Keep on meeting new people.

2025 holds so much promise, and I’m determined to make it a year of purpose and momentum. If 2024 was about learning who I am, 2025 will be about putting that knowledge into action.