It’s simple: I don’t stop myself from feeling negativity because that’s unhealthy, if not impossible. Instead, I work through it and remember the bigger picture.

Whenever you have to work hard on something with others for an audience, conflict is inevitable. That diversity of ideas is what makes your project great, and it’s what makes a community. I’ve been around APO long enough to know there will always be somebody who wants to make APO more exclusive. There are always people who are catty, are passive-aggressive and like to gossip. There are always people who are unnecessarily defensive and put others down out of their own insecurity. There are always people whose limited imaginations hold others back from meeting their potential. But these people are not bad people. Misguided though they may be, they are your Brothers—your family.

I firmly believe that we should welcome and accept everyone for who they are and help them grow however we can. Cardinal principles like “friendship” don’t only apply to people who stick around in the organization or during APhiO events; they apply to how you conduct yourself throughout your life. You don’t kick family to the curb when things get tough. You give your best effort and work at it.

To deal with negativity, try to forget about how terrible you might think things are now and remember to work toward your vision of how things could be. To me, APO should be the foremost collegiate service organization, second to none in sharing the principles of Leadership, Friendship and Service to anyone who knows us. If I want to achieve my vision, I can’t give up on the organization or other people very easily.

I decided a long time ago as an active that I never wanted to let negativity define me or affect someone else’s experience. There are so many great things about APO that I guarantee you would be sick of hearing me ramble about it. I don’t want my negative feelings to spoil that for anyone else who might be getting something valuable out of this experience. Instead, I try to work through those feelings by talking it out with the friends who I trust not to gossip about it with others. Find your own constructive outlet to let the negative feelings pass, allow life to go on, and keep the big picture in sight.

My biggest piece of advice to each member is to own your experience rather than letting someone else own it for you. It doesn’t matter if you’re timid. Your voice deserves to be heard, so speak up loudly and don’t be afraid of failure. If you’re worried about your inexperience, ask questions to learn how things work. It’s your chapter. Prepare yourself to lead it. If you’re already good at speaking up, remember to encourage others to speak up too, because yours is not the only important voice.

As you push forward, if you fail at something, make it a point to do something even greater instead. Let failure be the best thing that ever happened to you. You are a competent person with a lot to offer your community. Do something you can be proud of using that potential, and let no one take that away from you. You are a force to be reckoned with. Act like it, and own your membership

“I received a letter from a parent who wrote: ‘Mister rogers, how do you do it? I wish I were like you. I want to be patient and quiet and even-tempered, and always speak respectfully to my children. But that just isn’t my personality. I often lose my patience and even scream at my children. I want to change from an impatient person into a patient person, from an angry person into a gentle one.’

Just as it takes time for children to understand what real love is, it takes time for parents to understand that being always patient, quiet, even-tempered, and respectful isn’t necessarily what ‘good’ parents are. In fact, parents help children by expressing a wide range of feelings—including appropriate anger. All children need to see that the adults in their lives can feel anger and not hurt themselves or anyone else when they feel that way.”

Write a post about at least one person who might not know just what they mean to you. You might want to say how your opinion of them has changed, how they’ve surprised you, how they’ve made you feel, or what you’ve learned from them. Keep writing until you’ve said what you wanted to say.

A lot of people rarely get to feel special. Imagine how good you might make someone feel by letting them know what you think. Please indulge me on this!

“As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us really is, that each of us has something that no one else has—or ever will have—something inside that is unique to all time. It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.”

—Fred Rogers

I’m sorry Mary; this might embarrass you, because I’m a huge admirer. If your friendship were a prize, I’d keep it spit-shined and safely guarded. The number of people who might see this and know who you are is close to zero, but maybe they’ll get lucky and understand a little about why you’re such a valuable person in my eyes.

I met Mary at the 2009 Region X Conference. At the time, she was just an adorable Berkeley student I’d affectionately nicknamed Pedobear for her childlike appearance and trademark bear hat. (I don’t call her Pedobear too often because she probably hates that. She nicknamed me Bestie, so yeah, I’m pretty horrible. Shush!) I forgot how it happened, but we became AIM buddies and talked every so often about all kinds of things, despite having talked in person less than a handful of times.

It turned out that Mary and I have a lot in common: both pledged Spring 2008, both fairly involved in APO, capable of making each other laugh, she always understood my outlandish pop culture references, she’d usually heard of the music I was excited about, and the list goes on. I don’t think I’ve ever ‘clicked’ so well with someone. That said, I feel there’s much more our friendship than those commonalities.

As well as I could deal with the bad APO days on my own, Mary always had a way of indirectly making me feel better. To really understand, you need an idea of what it’s like to stay involved in APO when you’re older than almost everybody else still around. The passage of each term meant fewer and fewer people who knew me for my personality, as opposed to my involvement in the organization. As lovely as the newer people are, we just don’t share that mutual experience of the relative “old days”. I think older people know what I mean. That said, you start to feel hollow when you don’t have peers to talk to. That’s where Mary comes in for me.

Talking to Mary is like having a piece of the old days with me. It was a time where nobody looked to me for answers, and people’s questions questions for me weren’t more complicated than how was your day? I think we all need that from time to time to remember what we like about ourselves. While I cherish that piece of times past, I also cherish that I feel comfortable enough to talk to her about anything and everything in the present.

Today, we are both mentors of many people only a couple years younger than ourselves, and that’s a daunting thing. To do the role justice, we have to adapt; we need to teach ourselves what maturity and levelheadedness truly are to set a good example. When meeting that standard gets tough, it’s a serious relief to have an equal to bounce today’s worries off of and hear, “Yeahhh, I know what you mean.” You need to be able to speak honestly without feeling someone’s judgment looming, or feeling like you’re being an inconvenience. When someone can give you that level of comfort, they have a valuable gift. Mary’s got it in spades.

Beyond her maturity and openness, I see a truly caring and nurturing individual. Whenever she talks about her mentoring role, I get a sense that she adores the people she watches out for. There’s nothing she wants more than to see them achieve things greater than they thought possible. If she’s touched your life, you’re truly the lucky one.

To Mary: thank you for sharing yourself with people. Remember that what’s special about you isn’t something anyone could ever see, hear, or touch; it’s how you make people feel. You are trusted, and the bedrock of your very being is good stuff. I like you just the way you are.

“As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us really is, that each of us has something that no one else has—or ever will have—something inside that is unique to all time. It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.”

—Fred Rogers

Dear, sweet Leslie. How? How are you such a giving person? I’m quite sure I won’t understand in a hundred years what drives you to help people out so much.

I met Leslie some time in the fall of 2008. What I remember is that everybody adored this girl. She was always smiling and somehow managed to put people in a good mood when they were around her. I became one of those people soon enough. Once in a good long while, you meet a person who you don’t quite understand why, but something about being near them is just very comforting—like nothing else matters for a time, and everything’s at peace. That’s Leslie.

In college, I spent lots of time with Leslie when family chairing with APO. It feels like a lifetime ago when all that seemed really important, but I remember Leslie’s generosity vividly. Among her many gifts to give, she’s always been extremely talented with crafts. I signed up for a little bro three terms in a row after Leslie crossed, and she came with me to Jo-Ann’s Fabrics every one of those times and helped me pick out what I needed to make my gifts. More than that, she always opened her apartment up for guests like me during that week—you know the one—to help people with zero aptitude for crafts make all kinds of amazing pillows. I remember a few times when she even offered to make people’s pillows for them, because they wouldn’t have finished in time otherwise. What amazed me about it is that no matter how many people she helped, she made the most insane things for her own little bros or friends. (Giant Totoro, anyone?) Leslie has a gift, and she had no complaints about sharing it.

She devoted a ton of energy for our family activities for no reason other than good will. It’s safe to say that she was a family chair every term after she crossed until she graduated, whether she was listed or not. I know she helped out far longer than I ever did. On top of it all, if you’ve ever seen the Close Family stuffed monkey, or the monkey suit, guess who made those? They didn’t just appear out of nowhere. Those are Leslie’s creations, and she didn’t charge us a penny to make them either. We gave her materials, and she gave us a dozen hours of her life to answer those ridiculous requests because it meant that much to us.

Crafts aside, if I could describe Leslie in a word, it would be “concerned,” and I mean that in a good way. She’s always concerned for other people’s well-being, whether they’re emotionally distraught or physically not feeling good. When people get stressed out, Leslie’s willing to take some of the burden off their shoulders. She’ll always be ready to give you a big hug when you need it. I’m very sorry I never got to give her something nice enough to pay her back for all the times she helped me out, so I hope this post might do.

To Leslie: sometimes I feel like the world’s just not good enough for you. When things look tough, just remember that you’re a wonderful person. You are valuable far beyond what you give people from the goodness of your heart. You’re special, just as you are.

“As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us really is, that each of us has something that no one else has—or ever will have—something inside that is unique to all time. It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.”

—Fred Rogers

There are those people who are showered with attention: their friends make scrapbooks for them, throw them a surprise birthday every year, that sort of thing. I don’t feel like writing about those people today. Instead, I want to write about someone I feel is often overlooked by people, but who’s got a pretty terrific heart. I’ve always got my fingers crossed that good things come to him, because damn it, he deserves to be happy!

A kind word or few is long overdue for Sarn Saeteurn.

My first memory of Sarn is talking to him at the MU Games Area in the fall of 2009. Sarn was there pretty often, as we did CoHo hours there that year. I don’t think we ever talked about anything substantial back then—I just remember us making a paper table out of newspapers and flipping it. (They were the best of times; they were the worst of times.) Over time, Sarn struck me as genuinely curious about people. Whether you’re old or new, if everything feels uncomfortable and unfamiliar, Sarn will welcome you with conversation.

I know for a fact that Sarn tried to help a few people who went inactive in APO and were too intimidated to come back. Those people felt like they didn’t know anyone anymore. Whether Sarn’s offers were accepted or not, he would tell those people, I can be the person you know. Just come out! We’ll meet people together. After all, those people were a part of his life. He’d watch out for them even if others forgot. That’s true stewardship, and it’s sure sign of someone with real character.

Sarn is very generous with his time. On a whim, he came over once to teach me how to take care of my car for three hours. Another day, I remember asking him if he wanted to hang out, and he said I’ll be a bit late. I’m helping Tiffany jump her car. He doesn’t show off all the good things he does, and nobody celebrates his giving nature, but he just keeps on quietly helping. He is never condescending when he helps either. Typical Sarn. You’ll often catch him in the middle of something like this.

It would be a crime not to mention how considerate Sarn is of other people. To give an example, I drove around a lot in the past few years (by my standards), and Sarn was one of the only people to consistently pay me back for gas. In general, he puts a good amount of forethought into how he treats people. These sound like little things when you say them out loud, but they show me that a) he acknowledges people’s efforts, big or small, b) he pays his debts, and c) he puts other people first.

There’s one good random fact I’d mention about Sarn: he’s pretty adept with hands-on things. The guy is good at figuring out how things work, and he’ll tinker around to make adjustments (this applies both to physical objects and to abstract ideas). I think that’s what makes him such an opinionated guy. I enjoy hearing his thoughts on things. His sense of humor is a bonus.

There you have it: approachable, watchful, helpful, and considerate. The true bottom line here is that it’s wonderful Sarn’s willing to share all these aspects of himself so freely with people, and I’d hope people would return the favor to him. He’s earned it. To Sarn: you’re a unique guy who really puts the “human” in human being. It’s a pleasure to know you, just as you are.

I would like to preface this and similar forthcoming posts with a quote by Fred Rogers: “As human beings, our job in life is to help people realize how rare and valuable each one of us really is, that each of us has something that no one else has—or ever will have—something inside that is unique to all time. It’s our job to encourage each other to discover that uniqueness and to provide ways of developing its expression.”

This post is about Kaycee Calip. Why do I have a featured post about her? To that, I ask, “Why not?”

Kaycee’s a person I met in undergrad, a couple years my junior. She’s got a very loud voice, and a loud personality—and I mean those things in a good way. My very first impression was that she was just a loudmouth who I probably wouldn’t have much in common with or really get along with. (Sorry, Kaycee!) But now, I really do find myself checking up on her every now and then for no reason other than to enjoy her conversation. My impression of Kaycee improved in the first year of my knowing her, but I’d say it really transformed around last winter, when we started talking more often and working together.

Last winter was a really busy time in my life: every day was about working on my research project, my personal statement and law school applications, and, of course, the APO Nationals bid. Some older alum—including my namesake—were interested in bringing 2012 National Convention to San Francisco. The fool that I was, observing that process somehow turned into actually participating, despite the mountain of other stuff I had going on. I needed help. I start delegating tasks to a handful of different people.

Kaycee was a relatively active person in APO, and she was going to Nationals, so I naturally came to her. Turns out my namesake had been bugging her about helping for a while, but she hadn’t given in yet. The reason she chose to help when I asked is because I was under a lot of stress, and I just didn’t have a ton of time for APO things in the weeks leading up to the convention. Kaycee managed to put the entire convention bid binder together mostly by herself. She tried to figure things out without asking me too many questions so I could be more at ease. Let me stress that she had zero obligation to help. She spent two weeks of her much-deserved winter break working on the project, and few people even really knew about what she’d done after that. It’s not something she went bragging about. I can safely say most people wouldn’t have approached the work that way, but that’s who she is.

Kaycee will empathize with you. She is the type of person who will see you struggling, and go out of her way to support you. I’m not the type who looks very excited about things too often, so I’m glad I had Kaycee around to be excited about law school for me. You can really see genuine happiness she feels for you when you succeed, or the genuine pity for you when things don’t go your way. That’s something many people have a hard time doing, so I really appreciate when I meet people who can.

Just a few random facts about Kaycee:

1. She’s obviously a huge Harry Potter maniac. There is no bigger fan. She’s known as the Harry Potter Chair, or Headmistress of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Kaycee set up a Deathly Hallows Part II fellowship for all of her APO friends by reserving an entire theater and bringing giant cardboard cutouts of the four house crests for people to take pictures with. Why? The Harry Potter series is a really big and positive part of her life, and she wanted other people to share in that happiness.

2. She is a strong feminist. You might be surprised at how articulate she’s become about gender discrimination through reading feminist literature in her spare time. Talk to her, and learn a thing or two. She’s very intelligent.

3. She’s always eager to learn. As I’m writing this, we’re talking about racial and ethnic politics. She knows I’m passionate about the topic, so she thought to ask me some questions.

There’s plenty more to say, but I think I’ll have embarrassed the kid long enough at this point. I’m proud to know such a special individual. To Kaycee: there’s no other person like you, and I like you just the way you are. Keep being you.

I’m going to retroactively edit this post to explain what’s ahead. What I do in the following posts is just express what I think of people. The quote at the top of every post is kind of a mission statement for my life that I took from Fred Rogers. I don’t normally quote people, but Mr. Rogers is someone whose life I spent a fair amount of time studying. I really tried to understand what kind of person was saying those words, and it was clear that the man who spoke those words was the man who lived them every day of his life. That’s something I aspire to.